Thursday, April 28, 2011

// //


Out of all female cartoon characters, I have to say Helga in the bottom 5% of attractiveness. Her and Peppermint Patty just living their lives as ugly cartoon characters for eternity. That being said, NO ONE should have aspired to look like her at any point. Not even for Halloween. Girls have strictly one rule when trying to dress up, and that's look sexy. Not look terrifying. I'm not even 100% sure this is a chick which just ups the ante in the disturbing-ness.

I'm not gonna lie, I like the touch on the Arnold pendant. If you're going to be bat-shit crazy you might as well sell the shit out of it.
// //


Watch this video about 1,000 times on repeat and that's what you get around me at the office today. Seriously though I feel so bad for the lady working directly across the way due to my antics everyday from 9-5. My friends have already dubbed me as the loudest human on planet earth between constant throat clears and sighs. Add sneezing into the mix and it's a whole different ballgame.

I'll say this though - Allergies will never affect my overall productivity. My nose will be draining like a god damn water fountain and I'll still make that phone sale. Not gonna sit there and clean up after putting a customer on hold - just battling through adversity at all costs. Urgency is the word.
// //

Thank you, Dunkin Donuts. Because when I woke up today, I thought, exactly what this world needs is  Royal Wedding doughnut.
Not only are we going to get up at 4AM to watch a "royal" guy wed a mere commoner, but we're also going to dedicate our own line of greasy American pastries to it. Too bad the divorce rate is at like 60% right now and the royal family doesn't actually rule over anything. At least we know doughnuts are forever <333

Wednesday, April 27, 2011

// //


Make sure to watch until #3 takes center stage. Not only is this kid advanced in throwing down monster jams but the overall presentation was just remarkable. Makes you wonder if Washington Wizards ownership sat him down afterwards and cut a deal right then and there. You know select colleges took some notes at the very least.

This showtime clip has aged a few years so I wonder where the kid's game is at now. Likely in a seamless transition from the 28.5 ball to men's size dominating the field...still brushing off opponents after every shot bringing down the house. The other 3 will later be telling stories at their respective accounting jobs...saying they once competed in a dunk contest against the best to play in Washington since...Jordan? The possibilities are endless.
// //


#1- Drunkorexia: Yup, it's real. It's a fucking clickable item on WebMD. Basically loses all credibility to easily one of my most important sites. I'm on WebMD before I complete sneezing. Shit's one of my crutches. But yeah, this "disease" basically means getting shit drunk and forgetting to eat, because, well, you're shit drunk. Fake.

#2- Orthorexia: aka the obsession with healthy eating. That's just a real cop out. Like some dude was pressed to have a new eating disorder on his boss' desk by 5pm and had to make one up on the fly. I'm not mad atcha random scientist, I do the same shit literally every day.

#3- Adult Selective Eating Disorder: remember when you didn't want to eat carrots and peas when you were little? You were diseased. That guy with dysentery, that guy with cholera, and you each have the "being diseased" thing in common. Seriously though? I guess I'm fucked too, I don't like olives and I'm not exactly fond of the idea of anchovies.

That's it folks. I'm pretty much shooting 2 for 3 out there with new diseases.

Tuesday, April 26, 2011

// //

This has to be the least intimidating sign ever, right? What self-respecting cop will respond to a police report from a drive-thru strip club? Dude must have to siren his way around that drive-thru curve to have them take his order. "One police report please, and I don't know, two asians and a red-head."

Much like bar goldfish racing, I feel like I severely missed out on something special. Not so much missing out on the strip club aspect of it all, but more on the "how." Like how the fuck does this work? Do you have to stretch your neck out the side of your Subaru and haplessly toss crumbled singles in hopes that the gods allow them to land in a g-string? I don't know, but I damn sure want to know. I also want to know about these strippers. This specific brand of desolate ho-bag must be on the same level of depression/suicide watch as toll booth operators. Must be so depressed to see a car full of high schoolers ride up, take a disappointed look, and continue on their way. I'd 100% place my platinum colored stilettos in the rafters and swiftly retire if that happened.



// //


Is the "thumbs up" the least assuring thing in the game right now? When fans see your knee twisted 1000 degrees and players on the other team waving trainers over, your thumbs up is pretty ineffective. Story goes the same with people getting shot out of cannons.

Apparently the thing these days in daredevil-ism is making your task just that more difficult than it originally is. Take the confident dude in the picture above. He could have just went about his task the normal, standard way, but nope, he decided to kick things up a notch. By kick things up, I mean blast out of a cannonball without a safety net deployed, and by notch, I mean proceed to die. There's some jabber that the net deployment was faulty and the shit collapsed, but I call bullshit. Call me insensitive and all, I'm just saying that if you're going to shoot yourself out of a cannon you should probably make sure the little things like SAFETY NETS are in order before you put that thumb up. Things are clearly not a go dawg.

My condolences.

Monday, April 25, 2011

// //

Men know exactly what they're doing when they get that innocent solo picture snapped cradling their brother's/cousin's/sister's/random lady at the mall's/you name it's infant. They look up at the camera endearingly, careful to balance a macho glance with such an emotional scene. They crook the baby up so they're still managing a simultaneous little flex of a bicep, but try to make it look like it all just happened naturally.

"LOOK. I am so strong but I am holding such a tiny baby. Can you even believe what a catch I am?" And we (being women everywhere) can't help but love it every single time. Giddy sighs and melty swoons and testing out your last name and we are DONE.

And that's all it takes, guys. I'd like to tell you we are smarter than that, but I can't. The baby pic is like Kryptonite to our entire gender. Just ask Dub J. He knows.
// //

(just going out on a limb that this dude's from England...)

The stars aligned, the moon is at a certain distance, and it's collectively "that time of the month" for the entire world's women population. Basically chicks are turning into low-grade werewolves. Ravaging water-cooler conversation with nonsensical royal wedding chatter. Men everywhere just have to chalk up a cool mulligan to their respective partners for whatever is happening. Maybe it's like when the Superbowl is on for us, I don't know, but I know for damn sure the fucking bar is being set on weddings for all of us.

Girls have always had the "I'm a princess" mindset that their dumbass father instilled on them. I have no idea why chicks are so down with the princess mentality to begin with. People just want to capture you and store you in castles. Guarantee Bowser scoops Middleton away as soon as vows are exchanged. Me personally, I'm setting the bar low as hell in the TERRIBLE event that I have a daughter. Have her aspire to be an entry-level financial professional. No one's going to crown you honey. You need to prepare for life on Excel and Dunkin' Donuts runs. No prince coming for you on a white horse. You're 100% meeting that special someone at a bar and you're probably not going to like him that much. Most likely meander into life teetering between happy and unhappy everyday. Hey, it's harsh, but that's me being an effective daddy. Not necessarily good, but effective. I certainly don't plan to raise expectations. Just let her know what's good from day one..literally. Getting that little hellion the most calculators for Christmas and her birthdays.

On the real though, people are waking up at 4am to watch two people that they have zero affiliation with get married. I heard someone at work say that they're waking they're daughter up and going to a friend's house for a "Royal Wedding Party." What the fuck? I barely want to attend my own marriage in 28 years. Shit seems like the worst. Looks like the snowball effect will continue when a bunch of little girls get aggressively woken up by their bat-shit crazy mothers, stuffed into dresses, and forced to watch a couple Brits get married.

Just another crucial life event that Dub Jeezy is going to have to save the world from.
// //














Funny how holiday perks shift with age. Back in the day it was about capturing as many Easter eggs as possible in the backyard. Through the college years everyone's excited to head home for the holiday weekend to catch up with old friends and toss some new stories around. Now as a full-time employee at the age of 24, there's one particular thing that stood out this year above all when it came to Easter.

Ham sandwiches. Yes, I am blogging about ham sandwiches. See the annual chocolate bunny is old news. Sure Mom is happy to present a candy basket but at this point in time it's not the real prize. However, I couldn't have been more thrilled to obtain the leftover honey ham from Easter dinner.

Lunch at the office today was out of control. I worked harder than ever to get everything out of the way in light of the good times ahead at my desk with a pair of grossly stacked ham sandwiches. This is what the world is coming to...Getting amped for ESPN articles and awesome lunches. Likely pathetic but not too shabby for an ordinary Monday...right?
// //


I don't know if NBA on ABC was playing some elaborate prank on me, but I'm pretty sure the Knicks broke the NBA record for points in a game.

232 points on 10-39 from the field. Standard fare it seems. Clearly "Rock and Jock" rules were in effect for Carmelo--hitting 40 point jumpers from the elbow. Dude probably picked up a Star-Man too. Just getting privileges separate from everyone else. Despite all these cheat codes we put in, apparently 232 wasn't enough to beat the Celtics.

PS. How fast was this dude fired after this mistake? In my head, I just imagine people being dropped and replaced in control rooms like drones.

Thanks EJT

Friday, April 22, 2011

// //


All it takes is a Chewbacca dog to remind you that this weekend should not be spent sinning and being weird.

Thursday, April 21, 2011

// //


The way I see it, it's just another composition of 17 melted Jolly Ranchers, malt liquor, a cap-full of cough syrup, and a little death. I'm not thrilled by "Blast" to say the least.

We all had our fun. By fun I mean we all got a little weird. Loko drunk is it's own distinct drunk like red wine, except without the sexy and the class. The few times I was Loko drunk I was scared, but in denial of being scared. Just a messed up existential experience that you're not supposed to have when you're depressingly drinking on a Wednesday. Now we have this concoction being pimped out by Snoop because he's obviously in problematic debt. My issue is that I'm most definitely going to try 1 or 4 of these before they're undoubtedly pulled from the shelves. I mean look at those cans. Fucking vibrant as hell. You'd be a fool to not be enticed into drinking one of these. It's like Van Gogh inviting you out to get strange drunk and regretting what you did.

Jesus Christ Snoop.
// //


Holy shit.

I've been waiting to see the bar game revolutionized and I think some higher being has answered my request. Gone are the typical bar games of Pop-A-Shot and unsuccessfully hitting on girls and here is Goldfish racing. First off, this has some Michael Vick-PETA Rally shit written all over it and secondly, this is fantastic. Like, these fish can't die BECAUSE of the race right? Goldfish die when the clock strikes 3:17PM on a Tuesday. Random and inexplicable. Sometimes the world's too much for them. Why not make life fulfilling and allow degenerates to propel you through dirty water via straw? At least have something to hang your hat on when you decide that you're a goldfish and life isn't that fun.

Sidenote, does having tremendous lung capacity guarantee you multiple goldfish race victories? I can definitely see girls eating this up for the first few months this is popular and then harshly realizing that they were hooking up with guys that were good at goldfish racing.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

// //


So after being idle for like 8 minutes, the microwave in my house decides to aggressively display the devil's 666 occasionally. Not all the time, but just when it feels like it. We've had the microwave since roughly November and no one addressed this. Just, "Oh, the microwave is doing it's Stigmata thing again. Guess I gotta wait to heat up this Lean Cuisine." Not an ounce of urgency. At first I thought it was nothing. Just a number that happened to pop up in succession. 1 and 10 chance, you know? But, why didn't 0-5 or 7-9 appear on the microwave? It's some scary shit if you ask me.

I'm not down to be a "based on" SciFy movie to be made in 2034. "The Exorcism of the Microwave." That'd undoubtedly be the wackest SciFy movie of all time, and that's saying a lot since I just watched "Giant Shark vs. Mega Squid"--which I'd argue, featured way less shark and squid than I thought it would. The main reason I'm concerned about the Damian Microwave is because(as some of you readers know), I want to die a baller death. Microwave death is not baller. Just getting blasted with uncomfortably high heat until I suffer heat stroke. Might as well chill in the Gobi Desert. I need this thing to really put it's all into it. Fireballs, biblical references, a deep echoey voice with a ton of bass--the works.

I'm just trying to heat a Hot Pocket for 1:47 seconds. Any less it's cold as ice and any more it's a wrap for your tongue.
// //


Robots are up to no good, I can smell it. Throwing out first pitches at Phillies games, always being equipped with lasers, and being slightly more effective than us at our jobs. Work in IT? FRIDA will produce just a little better than you. Factory worker? FRIDA will stock two more items than you can stock. It was pure genius on their part. Don't make an absurdly effective worker, but just something that epitomizes the idea of "above average."

As workers, the best thing we can hope for is to be above average. CEOs and Presidents-above average workers that eventually worked their way up. Poor workers get fired and excellent workers don't move up because they're so effective at what they do that the higher-ups don't want to fuck with them. Standard math. Mad scientists are trying to portray FRIDA as that blue-collar dude just trying to work his way up the ladder instead of them trying to make another WATSON. Smart play on their part, but I'm not trying to sit next to a robot for 40 hours a week. What if I accidentally spill my coffee on it? Is it dead? Can't crack jokes with it and definitely can't go to the bars after work with it. Or can I? How deadly would someone's game be if they had a robot wing-man?

Too many questions. Too little blogs.
// //














So Yahoo showcased a handful of pictures of this pirate ship bedroom, featuring that monster ship as you can see in the pic above, a rope traveling from one closet to the next, and a slide that twists and turns ending who the fuck knows where. If I'm not mistaken...this looks like a Disney exhibit in the world of Peter Pan.

This shit is straight out of the movie Blank Check, only it was the lucky boy's dad who dished out the million to create the playground one hallway down from his own master bedroom. Wish I could see what the man cave is like in this spot.

The only thing that sucks for the kid is when he outgrows his pirate fantasy land. He might not because the room is just so sick. But imagine bringing your new girlfriend up here at the age of 16 and saying "oh yeah, that was back when I was 5 but my parents told me it's too big to take down." Usually it's as simple as replacing the Aladdin poster with some sports memorabilia. This kid's in for a whirlwind of confusion once puberty hits.

Tuesday, April 19, 2011

// //


Seen a few of these guys around in my day. Joke is on you my man...just the way it is. Way too anxious and over confident in regards to the ensuing events. Jumping around early on as if the act wouldn't turn sour. Charlie Brown thought he was gonna split the uprights too...Just a poorly thought out play on your part.

His buddy in front must've had a vision the whole time...May have lost some kind of bet and snaked out last second but it's already game set match at this point. What else is left to say here. In the words of Eric Cartman...Well screw you guys, I'm going home.
// //


My God. Gotta feel bad for the dude trying to get his last minute party supplies for the night out here. Just a whole line of produce living on the edge right next to the tracks. Everyone waiting diligently until the coast was clear to get back on their grind.

Heard a couple veggie casualties from under the train but that's some of the best overall execution I've seen in ages. Like some Toy Story shit when Andy's Mom comes barreling into his room unannounced. Multiple shops back in action just seconds after the train had moved on.
// //


Anyone with an umbrella is already pissed off to begin with. If it's small, it's soaked and undoubtedly too weak to withstand the slightest gust of wind. You know those umbrellas that go inside out the second someone sneezes. No one's happy about that. This dude obviously has one of those large obtrusive umbrellas that take up the entire sidewalk and make enemies throughout the day. He probably got a few scowls during the day that attributed to him being a little bitter whilst in the Burlington Mall. Can't blame him there. We can blame the overachieving person (woman) that decided it was appropriate to call the fucking SWAT team.

Seriously, how do you respond if you're the person that gave that false report? If it were me, I'd immediately try to make a joke about it like, "Umm, MY BAD", and put one of those exaggerated smiles on my face. Just praying I won't get gunbucked by an especially angry SWAT member. Apparently umbrella guy was "cooperative" and "reasonable." I'd be outside my mind the minute I was found innocent. Doing everything just below the line of being detained and demanding Samsonite provide me with one of those baller $150 umbrellas that would truly establish me as the asshole of the sidewalk. It's the only course of action. Two wrongs absolutely make a right. At least in my world.
// //


I don't know if anyone saw the same video I did, but damn. What the hell was that? I was roped into a heartwarming tale of a tortoise and a hippo. I was completely ok with watching them chill in the mud pond and lay out in the sun for the entire duration of the video, but no, you have to bring in facts, figures, and conniving gold-digging hippo bitches into the scene.

How do you think Mzee feels here? They keep saying his boy is "getting too big" and "his weight may become an issue." I'm pretty sure that's what they're going to be saying about all my friends in 30 years. Doesn't stop us from watching football and drinking our faces off. What's wrong with them catchin' rays and crushing mud ponds for the rest of their lives? Nothing. Introduce Cloe, the needy, complaining girl that we ALL know wasn't right for Owen, and have her come in and seduce him away from his boy. I don't respect that. She doesn't bite him to lead him in the right direction/listens to his problems in the mud like Mzee did.

Just saying, keep your friends close guys.

Monday, April 18, 2011

// //
Still a girl. Still don't watch basketball. BUT I came across this picture and I'm pretty sure it's the greatest thing I've ever seen. What is he doing?!? Are karate kicks to the head allowed in basketball currently? I think when a karate kick looks THIS good, the answer has to be, undeniably, YES. 

If someone can promise me there will be a man basically doing a split to kick the other team in the head with his Nike every basketball game, I will become diehard. I promise. Until then, I've decided to be a Bulls fan. I like the little bull logo a lot too, so this all seems to be working out pretty perfectly.
// //


That title definitely sounds a little harsh, but I live by one rule here as kingpin of WMD: Never proofread or edit yourself, because you're always awesome. How else do you think we have all of this money and tons of advertisers drooling over us?

Back to real life--my man Walter is just really old. Nothing else to say about it other than 114 years is too many years to be alive. I'm 23, and I'm like "Mehh, what do the next 60 years really have in store." Dude was around for like 5 different recessions, 7 wars, railroads, cars, rotary phones, Facebook, black people not being slaves, leather helmets, and Woodstock. Shit's ridiculous. I probably would have called it quits when the internet rolled around. Just would have ate the most uncooked red-meat and tons of gummy bears until I just rotted away. After listening to fireside chats with Teddy Roosevelt it must have just scrambled his already scrambled mind that Obama has a Twitter account.

This is an open invitation to all readers to murder me if I ever break 100. (This is completely nulled if they invent some sort of elixir that keeps me young and awesome looking forever)

PS. How pissed would you all be if you had to get WMD links on your Facebook newsfeed for the next 80 years?
// //


It's safe to say that this would be the worst field trip of all fucking time right? I would form a revolt with the class so fast it'd make your head spin. Picket signs, sit-ins, and non-violent protests hitting from all cylinders.

What do you do there? Walk cautiously the entire day? If you have a catastrophic slip and fall, you can destroy the entire integrity and makeup of the entire shitshow. I can't enjoy myself at a place that I can destroy with a mistimed sneeze. Some bull in a china shop shit. Also, what's the skreel with the Jetsons display? Granted, I enjoyed the Jetsons, but you can probably find a more relevant cartoon show. I'm sure adults that would remember the show aren't going there for bachelor parties or honeymoons . Kids are probably just wondering who the brown haired white guy is in the middle of the ground. Maybe Dora the Explorer, I don't know.

There are war torn countries, poverty, and despair..and there's Eggshell Land. Find me a kid that's starving and I'll show you a kid that wouldn't step foot in that egg shelly hell.

Foot scrapes, boredom, and vibrant colors. That's what Eggshell Land does!
// //


Remember we just had to take teacher's word for it that dinosaurs existed? How irrational was that shit to hear when you were 5 years old? Like, look at this giant lizard with tiny ass arms, and spikes on his head and believe it was real.

Get out of here with that unfeasible BS. Kids these days need visuals. Facebook pics of slutty Brontosaurus broads, Triceratops Twitter feeds--you got to crush social networking these days. Or you can unleash a underpaid gym teacher dressed in a T-Rex suit.

Kids weren't as scared as I thought though. I thought it would be sure pandemonium with kids running into each other and floors covered with juice boxes and lunchables remnants. But no, these kids were literally staring down this faux-rex right in the grill just giggling. Pretty sure a kid at the 0:46 second mark shouted, "Oh Shit!"

Some of the most fearless, gangsta-hearted, 5-6 year old white kids I've ever seen.

Sunday, April 17, 2011

// //
So this is me 20 minutes before going to play poker with some friends who actually know how to play poker. How do I always end up in these situations? I've been hardcore reviewing and considering printing this handy guide out in super mini script and keeping it in my pocket. I never did this for tests in highschool, but now seems like the best possible time to start.

I asked my friend for advice, and he said, "Play tight and act clueless." Oh yeah... I'm a girl. I can't possibly know what I'm doing.

BUT if Craw can make it through an hour and a half of hot yoga, (and tell me that he'll go AGAIN with me at some point... CHAMP <3) then maybe I can walk away from the table throwing cash and chips in the air in pure joy and feeling like I have just won the most epic battle ever.

15 minutes and counting. I'll let you know how this goes. Bets on how long I last before I lose all my chips are welcome and encouraged in the Comments section.

Friday, April 15, 2011

// //


If you're one of my friends I probably told you about this guy. Crushing comedy, music, and television. It's like I'm promoting the dude, but receiving zero dollars.

It's the cross I bear. Enjoy the weekend.

Thursday, April 14, 2011

// //


I'm expecting some backlash on this one via every form of social media except the comment section. Seriously guys, I get so many texts and Facebook messages like, "You're post was so offensive" or "You're so cool can I marry you." Much rather deal with that in the comment section.

On to dolphins. Don't they kind of look more and more like people..just a little? Those beady little eyes are getting more defined and they definitely have facial expressions. Everyone is getting lulled to sleep by the "they're so smart" theory. I'd rather no animals get too smart. Can't have dolphins besting me on the SAT, flippers and all. I just feel eeked out by them, you know? The cat was the joke in this video. Like the people and the dolphins were in on it and the cat was just the dumb bystander. We can't be sharing mutual jokes with dolphins. I can sense bad things coming. The moment they're able to walk on land is one giant step closer to seeing dolphins at the bar on the weekends. Not a good look. Not a good look at all.
// //


This outfit just screams "I'm casually coming back to the game of tennis after suffering from a pulmonary embolism." Camouflaging like a moth on a tree.

Serena couldn't have been outside long in this either. Shit looks temperate like a mofo. Bumblebees must have been swarming her ass confused as hell. Landing on her mid-serve trying to snag some pollen off her butt.

What are the odds there's no ball above the picture and she just sat in this pose for like 5 minutes trying to capture the best shot?

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

// //


Anytime a pepper is measured in "Scoville Heat Units" you know it's on some extreme shit. Like the sour "Warheads" of hot peppers. First off, what's good with these peppers being from Australia, but being called Trinidadian? That's some super marketing right there. Really confusing the customer into making a regrettable purchase.

But yeah, I'm still trying to conquer jalapeños. Each one is a small test for my bitch-like palette. Low and behold, jalapenos are like 1:100,000 of these scorpion monsters. What I'm trying to say is, I'm pretty sure this pepper can kill me. Erase me like one of those guns they use in Star Trek. I just need these outlandish moves by foreign countries to slow down a bit. I'm not trying to die while sampling some chili at the local eatery.

Shit's not that serious. What's the prize for the "hottest" pepper? A thousand bucks and a year of free food at "Chiles"?
// //















Has anyone been watching the new season of The Real World Las Vegas? Sure it's jam packed with all the embarrassing drama per usual but that's not what's most important while observing their stay at the Hard Rock Hotel and Casino. As I watch each cast member crumble every Wednesday night on cable television...I can't help but think of the things I'd be most concerned with if I were to be thrown into the fire.

1) I would undoubtedly run out of money in days...hours...minutes? With a casino an elevator away and cameras all around me...definitely going to dive head first into some bad decisions. Roulette would take half my cash within the first 10 minutes...then I'd get kicked out of the black jack table maybe 20 minutes in due to my inabilities to play correctly. Only way to come back from an empty bank account in this situation is to barter with the MTV producers to stay on the show. Gotta have constant cash flow to keep making those bad decisions right?

2) There is a bowling alley right there in the house. An easily accessible lane in the same place you sleep in is grounds for a good eight hours of bowling per day. I feel as though I'd wake up in the early hours and my day would consist of free gin and tonics, bowling, gin and tonics, bowling, nap, gin and tonics, bowling, clubs, bowling, gin and tonics, sleep.

3) The amount of Subway and Sun Drop I'd be forced to consume during my stay. Straight in your face advertising every other scene. I don't have a problem with Subway so much in comparison to Sun Drop. What the fuck is Sun Drop anyway? Frankly the product seems frightening. All I know is there's a fridge full of it in the Real World house and that commercial with the weird chick dancing around the beach is played at least 4 times an ep.

4) The whole partying aspect when I'm not bowling...Yeah I'll just have to get back to you on this one.
// //

You have one of two options in this scenario: a) make lifetime enemies and come close to killing someone or b) find true love. Let's dig into these a bit.

Option A is what most of us will roll with considering the selection we have in this elevator. Just feisty women that just got out of work trying to catch their train. Might as well be Mufasa falling off the cliff into the stampede. Straight goner. Best bet is to fight fire with fire and identify yourself as the crazy dude in the elevator from the get go. Rather it be you than someone else right? So go ahead, say some outlandish shit, accost somebody and really give it your all without actually committing a crime. It leaves you in pole position until someone rescues your ass. I see it as the "Real World" principle. The goal is to get recognized, whether it be for good or bad reasons. No one wants to be the cast member that genuinely has no impact and goes through every day not mattering. Be the one that breaks shit, hooks up a ton, or has anorexia. Own it. Then the fire department comes and you go back to normal life.

Option B is some fantasy land bullshit that will never happen. I had this thought process last year that if I kept going to the grocery store I would eventually meet a girl that happened to drop a cantaloupe or something. Shit didn't come close to happening. Either girls have incredible skills in the produce section, or that's some stuff you see in the movies. File getting trapped in the elevator with 27 others as another one of those situations. If it was 2 people trapped it's a different story completely.

Or you could kill yourself. The video said there was no AC in there, and no one likes to be stuffy.


// //

Just want to give kudos to the developers of my new favorite website "How fucked is the T".... because, honestly, truer words have never been spoken.

Luckily, all of us writers of WMD (I mean, you can say that about me occasionally, right? AT LEAST twice a month :P) ... but really, luckily, all of US live on the GREEN line, which, according to this sage website is: ALWAYS fucked. All the other trains have minute updates and varying degrees of fuckedness, but not us. We choose to live in a barren abyss of late broken down trains and hipster college students and Wonderbar, and we're NEVER on time. Duh.

Thanks, Boston.

Tuesday, April 12, 2011

// //


At age 51, when I finally decide to buckle down and get married to some unfortunate broad, I hope to God I devise a plan a little better than this.

First off, you straight up broke a Harry Potter book--that shit's just wrong. Definitely didn't even make it look neat either. Clean it up man, it's your proposal, not a test run with a box cutter. And what's with that wispy ass fabric you having holding the ring? Ball out, get some Prada brand wispy ass fabric or something. Seriously man, the 6th book was awesome. I know the chapter was aptly named, but at least cut up "The Chamber of Secrets" because frankly, that book sucked.

As a girl, if you think this is a cute method of proposal (despite the fact that it's Harry Potter), you're outside your mind and certainly aren't in consideration for wifey position in 28 years. Pfft. You can only be so lucky.
// //


Been saying it for years. There is really no reason to get nice sunglasses. You can get drunk and leave them somewhere, accidentally sit on them, or monkeys will pull them off your face, taunt you with them, and hang them in the tree among other stolen sunglasses. It's basic math.

I used to work at a zoo for my first job and I always prayed someone would get close to the cage for some catastrophe to happen. Missed it, but I'm glad videos like these exist so I can see the follies of the idiots that got too close.

Monday, April 11, 2011

// //















In light of this being one of my typical habits I didn't exactly expect to dominate hot yoga on the first go around. Some of you might be wondering why my 250-pound not-so-flexible self would decide to take a trip to the 110 degree hot box for some weird ass stances...The answer is simple. I lost a bet.

Actually the bet took place a couple weeks ago in a bowling match where i proceeded to rip my pants...yikes. If I won I would've taken home 100 bucks and a buffalo chicken sandwich with a side order TBD. Unfortunately with the wardrobe malfunction I wasn't able to get past frame two...so hot yoga it was.

I step into the room and relay the fact to my crazy marathon-running buddy that it wasn't that hot...He then snapped back with "dude they haven't even turned on the heat." Oh shit. Once I actually felt the blazing temperature within the first time minutes I was ready to quit faster then Manny retiring. Then we moved on to the actual exercises...

At the end of it all looking back I don't think I performed even one yoga position correctly. Not only that..but I spent the majority of the class with my head in the mat while every other nut-job went about their workout. Sure every dude insists that yoga is a great way to pick up a few girls...I say false. What chick in their right mind would be attracted to the guy in the corner panting because he literally can't take the heat? Didn't even bother checking the scene out of sheer embarrassment.

I was also the only one in the place who snickered when the rest of the group started humming in unison while stretched with their legs twirled around like a pretzel. Safe to say I don't think I'll be attending the next session...and the class won't miss me.
// //


Are you kidding me? The report said the kid was saying "hello" and "goodbye" to the fucking walls. That had to be the funniest thing I've ever heard. What's with all these parents posting videos of their babies giggling at stupid shit and riding Roombas while completely overlooking opportunities like this one at Applebees. This video that didn't happen would have 170% won Funniest Home Videos last week. Probably a dude getting hit in the balls with a free-wheeling toddler going after a piñata.

For the kid, this is free reign. You're drunk and you can do anything, and I mean ANYTHING you want. Any and every swear is fair game. "Sorry Mom, I'm twisted off of spiked Apple Juice and I want some MOTHERFUCKING mozzarella sticks." Brings a whole new meaning to "I remember my first beer." Rocking a 0.10 BAC at age 3 like a baller. Granted he almost died, which he will undoubtedly leave out of the story when he tells his friends in 10 years, but I respect the hell out of this kid's grind. He knew immediately that the drink didn't taste right and just rode through it to see what happened.

Almost a guarantee that I would have engaged in conversation with the wall too. They're so engaging when you're shitfaced.
// //


"You go first"

"No, you go ahead"

"No, I insist you go"

We've all been there. Just trying to outshine that other dude in the elevator with that cute chick stuck in the middle. Clearly she's going first, but who's next is the real issue. And by issue I mean catastrophe. Dudes have been known to squabble about who leaves first for, at times, three minutes. Three soul crushing minutes of dick-swinging and overall confusion. After like 15 seconds the person who goes first is definitely the asshole and no one wants that. At this point the elevator door closes and reopens probably 4 times and it's becoming ridiculous. Shit happens all the time and there's nothing to do about it.

Solution: be ok with being a dick, push the girl/old lady/child out the way and get where you got to get to faster than the next person.

Thursday, April 7, 2011

// //


I didn't realize a vacuum could have so much pizazz in regards to what it can actually do. Who knew it'd be a perfect fit as a roller coaster ride for all babies alike. But I can't really tell how this one is taking to dad's new toy.

What kind of expression is she giving out here? Puzzled? Stoic? Fearless? Something tells me she's gonna grow up to be a fierce competitor through her high school playing days. Just straight unintimidated like nothing could ever phase her. 'You wanna throw Roomba's under me? Go ahead. Ain't nothin' gonna keep me from going about my day. I'll just keep chillin' in my seat like the world revolves around me...because quite frankly it does.'
// //

or


These are offensive names right? They have to be. I'm also in the dark on the spelling of Afrik(c)a. Like, does it go by Mortal Kombat rules where the "k" or "c" can be interchanged?

On to the choice though. Both are essentially Big Macs with interesting surroundings. Just a ton of pitas. Crisp ass tomatoes too. The definite kicker is the yellow substance that I can only hope is mustard on the McAfrika. I don't eff with mustard or mystery yellow substances. Could be some acrylic paint or something.

I'm taking my talents to Saudi Arabia and crushing pitas with Jasmine on a magic carpet ride.
// //


And by "crank that" I mean whoever can be the new voice for the duck. Apparently (obviously) Gilbert Gottfried made some tasteless tweets about the tsunami and that'll get you fired. No quicker way to get the pink slip than tweet insensitive shit (on that note follow us on twitter at @WMsDiary). Who knew that dude was still alive anyway?

But yeah, apparently Gottfried opened up a 100k job to portray a loudmouth duck. If there were ever a job I was suited for that wasn't what I actually do or authoring the most hilarious blog ever, it would be to voice the Aflac duck. My voice can hit that distinct annoying twang that could inspire people to immediately purchase insurance.

My life goals are becoming scarce and more depressing.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

// //




Another situation where law enforcement just takes the term "kick it up a notch" to the extreme. Cops crushing the idea of a "notch." Let me explain "Every 15 Minutes" to you guys for a sec.

Basically, your entire day is just ruined due to the fact that you have to REALLY reenact the deaths of classmates throughout the day. They take kids out of school to a made up disaster scene where one of their classmates is depicted as just getting in a car accident due to texting, drinking, or some stupid teenage stereotype. Upon hearing that, that's pretty extreme, but no..they don't stop there. They send minimum wage workers to dress up as the grim reaper to pull kids out of class, and they are dead for the day. They proceed to walk around the rest of the day with "dead masks", which essentially means you can't use your cell-phone or go to lunch with your classmates. And there's your fucking Wednesday. Dead as shit, missing crucial texts from your main bitty from astronomy. Seriously what?

First of all, if I were a criminal, I'd rob and pillage so many stores during this 15 minutes jazz. You literally have a time limit. So easy. But yeah, there is no estimation for how pissed I'd be if I got pulled out of a pizza party because I was determined "dead." I'd probably cry or some shit. Really break down in a completely unexpected manner. Crying like a bitch with a dead mask on while the grim reaper escorts me out. Principal reading my texts. Not a good look.

Tuesday, April 5, 2011

// //


This post had to come sooner or later. Why? Because my roommates and I simply can't put the sticks down when it comes to N64's Super Smash Brothers. Some people are addicted to drugs, alcohol, you name it...but this game is certainly the #1 activity bringing us down in our everyday lives.

You know, it's bad when you start looking up youtube videos for tips after a tough loss to cap a long Tuesday night.  It's even worse to know that Co-blogger Dub J will be cringing at the fact that I posted Kirby (my character of choice) straight dominating the rest of the field. He might even pull the CEO card and delete this before I can check if I racked up a few funnies or informationals in the a.m.

But the harsh reality of it all is in about 40 minutes I'll be 24 years old. My birthday will only be complete with a couple W's on the Smash court...those victories won't come easy and tragically it's already factored into how I'll be spending my time tomorrow. Is Smash Bros just a game keeping us young at heart...or is it an embarrassingly epic battle we fight within ourselves knowing that eventually the controllers will have to be set down...Judge me all you want. Time to rest up and win some games on my big day.

EDITORS NOTE: Happy Birthday Craw?
// //


First off, I don't even know what to do when I get to screens like this on the Wii. I just put the controller down or get frustrated and accidentally open up that shit where you create your characters. You can literally get lost in that section. Like where should my eyebrows be on this cute little bobble-headed videogame character. The real issue is you dude. I checked the ol' blog stats and low and behold someone peeped us through the Wii. Thanks for reading presumably 12 year old boy, but is the Wii really your only option to attain the hilariousness of WMD.

Where's your laptop? Ipad? Cellphone? Come on man. I'm not yelling at you, I'm just a little concerned. And a little confused. Am I missing the boat here? Is the Wii the hip, go-to way to access the internet these days? Having my little bobble-headed dude with perfect eyebrows interactively creep on other bobble-headed bitches on Wii Facebook does sound more appealing then sitting in silence with my laptop.

Wherever you are man, fire up your Wii, hit me up at workingmansdiary@gmail.com and you can tell me all about it.
// //
or

^keep in mind, they're pretty much the same thing at this point.

Theres no doubt in my mind that Chad Pennington not only tore his ACL playing basketball, but tore his ACL shooting around (insert link). Garden variety shooty hoops. Dude has the wobbliest limbs in the game right now. Gust of wind—torn shoulder, a small baby lets out a sneeze—ACLs ripped to shreds. It’s so fucking sad. And I’m a Chad fan too.

As a big time Jets fan, I put the hope of the organization into the golden accuracy of Chad’s arm. Tuning in Sunday after Sunday watching #10 throw 15 yard strikes and cringing anytime I saw a receiver open deep. I jumped in the game as a Jets fan around the end of the Testaverde era and saw the emergence of one of the weakest arms to ever dominate the game. Frankly, I miss him and am pained every time (it’s become a yearly occurrence) he tears some significant muscle in his body.

To answer the question though, I’d rather have a large bowl of Jello run the Jets offense in 2004, but would much rather a Chad Pennington controlling the 2010 offense. The Jello could have been a pseudo-game manager that would have ensured us the top 2 pick in the draft we so desperately needed.


thanks John for the EMAIL tip.

Monday, April 4, 2011

// //


5 year old Dub Jeezy just covered in his own vomit, unconscious in the middle of the floor. That's the scene at my house if every fucking Power Ranger that ever existed was just warring Lord of the Rings style on these suped-up Putties.

I lost connection with the rangers after Power Rangers Zeo. I was able to deal with the unexpected change when they re-upped and added hotter girls, but shit started to get weird with Power Rangers in Space and Jungle Power Rangers. I was 100% out, but I definitely appreciated what the original did for me. Made me fight like every kid in Kindergarten. Rocked like a 4-18 record. Just didn't expect that retaliation blow, you know?

PS. What the FUCK was the deal with Beetleborgs?
// //


Yeah, I'm surprised too. Dude looks like my dad at my graduation. Gray suit and a distinct "I really don't want to be here" look on his face. Was my dad the greatest athlete ever? Digression.

Seriously though, my boy Dave up here got fucking drafted by the Minnesota Vikings in the NFL with no discernible football experience. They had to check his Pop Warner VHS's to get confirmation that he even knew how to play the game. He got drafted by not one professional basketball team, but two. The NBA and ABA were playing tug of war with my dad up here. He was essentially the hope of two professional sports leagues. I'm flabbergasted. I thought it was a known fact that Bo Jackson ran the show, but Dave "Papa Bear on my graduation day" Winfield just snuck up and took the title right under him. Oh, he settled on Baseball at the end of the day. Ho hum, crushed it and got inducted into the hall of fame.

Guess the genes don't really fall down from my fake dad. 4 sport pro athletes rarely translate to a decent blogger kids.

PS. Charlie Ward is a dangerously close second. Won the Arthur Ashe Amateur Tennis Award.
// //


Say hi to him everyday and immediately follow up with a "how are you?"--dude has yet to respond. I know he won't answer, and frankly I'm not really pumped to hear what his answer may be. Probably something about back pain or denture problems. Depressing shit that I'm not trying to hear at 9am when I'm still young and limber.

Here's the deal, I don't know if he even works in my office, but he has an office. Stay with me. He's THAT old I think he may have wandered up into a room and just kind of made a home there. Pretty sure everyone's just scared to tell him to get out. It's like a bird building a nest in the back of your porch or something. You're not telling it to leave but you'd rather it not there. Every time that mystery office door closes I'm scared to leave him. When you're that old you should have your door open at all times in case, you know. I'm not trying to age discriminate here, but I'm totally age discriminating on this geezer.

Job Description: tell tons of pointless stories, try to pinch cheeks, ask questions about everything technology, avoid dying. Just an annoying bird in the porch.

Sunday, April 3, 2011

// //
 
"Conor Oberst Gets Mad At Freebird Guy" by G   :P

So in case you didn't know, I am a concert whore... not like a groupie who is a literal whore, but as in I love going to shows, love live music, spend absurd amounts of money on seeing all my favorite bands. You could call me a hipster, but it would have to be just musically since I don't have a pair of nerd glasses or Converse shoes and am just plainly, not cool enough. Point in case: I still wore Uggs and a Northface all winter. 

But anyway, I love taking pictures and videos at the shows and throwing them up on my Youtube channel, and this video is particularly great because it's at 1,000+ views right now. (And there is just something about 1,000 whether it be WMD posts or Youtube views that just feels AWESOME) It's Conor Oberst, the lead singer of Bright Eyes, getting really overly riled up at this asshole in the balcony who kept yelling "Freebird" the whole show. I mean, yes, I wouldn't have objected to someone throwing Freebird guy off the balcony into the non-moshing crowd, but still, relax Conor. Have some candy, watch a movie, bang someone... but whatever you need to do, just CHILL. You're a rockstar who has the House of Blues packed for you, he's a drunk fool who is going home alone. It's all about perspective, Conor. You are doing OKAY.

Saturday, April 2, 2011

// //

When I was home in Scranton (reminder: "genetic cesspool") recently, Lil Bro and I were both chilling on some random night and he convinced me (this took about 3 seconds) to settle in for a night of drinking and watching a full season of "The Walking Dead." AMC (who also came out with Mad Men) took a crazy leap by making an actual show centered around a horror movie theme: zombie apocalypse. The pilot season was only 6 episodes long because no one knew if the public could handle the gore.

Turns out, they could. The show is awesome. (Unless you're my mom, who kept coming in and asking if we were done watching the "mummies" yet) While the first episode had me practically crying in terror at some of the creepiest images I've ever seen,  the finale had me literally crying because it was SO GOOD. 

So, I'll just say it. I love this show. I love scary movies in general, and definitely every zombie movie ever made (Even that really weird one with John Leguizamo). But the problem is I'm absolutely terrified of them immediately after I'm done watching. So basically now that they're coming out with a new full season, I'll be freaking out watching every episode, and then not sleeping one night a week because I'm too scared of a sudden zombie attack. (This is a whole new level from my old occasional one night of lost sleep if I watched a scary movie.) And thus continues my life as a mature, responsible, independent adult who is legitimately scared of zombies.