Thursday, June 30, 2011

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I didn't have to read a word. It's one of those things you just know. Just posting this, my love-letter ability rose like 100 levels. Hell, I might write a sonnet for some random bar-rat tonight and make her instantaneously fall in love.

Don't sleep on his Airness' handwriting ability. That shit is better than my Mom's writing and no dude can write better than a mother. When your handwriting is heartfelt, that's when you know you're onto something. I could have written my high-school crush a letter in Wingdings with Jordan's handwriting and had her getting down on one knee with a more than solid cubic zirconium ring ready to get hitched.

If basketball ability directly translates to love-letter writing ability, I am in serious trouble. The last time I made a valid love-letter attempt I think the girl was legit offended. Must mean I'm in like the bottom 2% of basketball skills in the world.

Here is the link to what the letter actually says.

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So Entertainment Weekly posted a few behind the scenes photos on the set of Deathly Hallows Part 2. Gotta say I don't necessarily approve. Yes, that right there is Bellatrix seizing the day with Chosen One, kissing him on the cheek like it's her little brother. You also just laid your eyes upon Snape chucking up an old man joke to his two most despised students.

Can we say out of character? Damnit we're not supposed to see this shit. Makes them look like real people. Sorry I had to share this...but if my view of the finale is ruined yours will be too. What can I say I'm selfish. That said, the most disturbingly awesome pic of the bunch is Lord Voldemort (if you dare click). Now there's a guy who knows how to party. Really hoping to see some celebratory photos of Lord V and HP popping bottles with Dirk and Mark Cuban at the end of it all.
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This looks exactly like those helicopters the dudes at Brookstone try to sell you when you're within 10 feet of their store. The ones that only store personnel seem to know how to control. You ever use one of those things? As soon as you get the control pad, that shit goes completely haywire and is somewhere inside Banana Republic on the 2nd floor of the mall. I can imagine riding/driving one of these is a similar experience.

The main reason I'm skeptical is because the dude from "Family Circus" clearly drew this picture. Looks like a technical designer didn't want to go near this idea. I was under the impression that we'd be doing Jetson things by now. Hell, I expected that in 2000. Hovercars without unnecessary wheelpellars that got me to and from Spacely's Sprockets in like 4 seconds. It's real bleak when I look outside, know I'm going to be riding on a T with no air conditioning, and NOT being apart of the most profitable sprocket business in the galaxy taking orders from Mr. Spacely.

P.S. Judy Jetson can most certainly get it.

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

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I'll say it. Someone had to. She's been tossing her non-existant ass in our face for years since that stupid Charlie's Angels scene in those wack undies. Now she's fake washing cars every other commercial in that assuredly mediocre movie "Bad Teacher."

Chick's a 6. Your standard trashling that throws on a tight dress, takes a few pouty face pictures, and tries to act like she's hot shit. Nah honey, you're a trash bag in a makeup disguise. Cameron I'm onto you. You snagged the biggest "is he gay?" athlete in the world right now and are trying to re-validate your career. You were hot in "The Mask" and like 65% of "Something About Mary", you can't parlay that into being considered attractive for the next 20 years. It don't work like that here on Working Man's Diary. We expose travesties, like Chris Hanson before he ironically got caught by a hidden camera.

Cameron, if you weren't Hollywood, I wouldn't buy you a Kamikaze shot.
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I posed this question on my Facebook wall last week and a few people sprinkled it with responses. Some were sarcastic, some were douchebag-ish, and one thought I was genuinely afflicted with a Black Widow spider bite, telling me to keep an eye out for the "bulls-eye"--thanks for that.

Personally I don't get it. What motivation does a bug get to bite people? It's the summer time and I'm seeing quite a few overzealous mosquitoes making less than valid attempts at my arms and legs. Getting smushed and smacked with ease like they're on some rookie-ball bullshit. Put my in a mosquito's shoes and you best believe I'm strictly biting cows, bull-dogs, and tree sloths. Those are three of the least efficient animals out there. Everyday just struggling to put one foot in front of the other.

On to the topic though, I definitely have a black widow spider bite. Four hours left to live or so. This presumed mosquito bite has been itching like a mofo for literally 3 weeks. It's not a rash, it's just a little spot causing all sorts of cholera, dysentery, and other Oregon Trail fatal diseases.

I'm just going to roll the dice and assume I'm going to turn Spiderman 10.0 or something. You know, since I'm black.
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Germany, what are you doing bro? Just lay low for awhile. You guys are literally inches away from sweeping some of your, um, "dirt" under the rug and you pull this bullshit. Dirk Nowitzki can't right this wrong, let alone hit a mid-range jumper out here.

I'm wearing an ankle brace just writing this post. I can't imagine what the deal is with rebounds out there. A casual miss off the back rim might bounce down and end up in the highway. There's no way anyone can succeed. Not even Slamball dudes. You're just treading water the whole time trying to figure out what hill or knoll your teammates are behind. Also, what's good with a lay-up out here? There's like a 50% chance you unexpectedly dunk it or fall to your doom. Like a 20 foot drop or some shit.

The minute it's revealed that Dirk practiced on these courts as a youth, is the minute I'm 3Ding the shit out my local street court and putting up one misguided-over-hill jumper after another.

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

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The. Worst.

There's nothing in the world worse than being tickled. There's drowning, being burnt to death, and being tickled, in no particular order. No one has laid an effective tickle attack on me since like '95, but it still sits in my memory like a late-night White Castle remains in my stomach from the weekend.

Dads love this shit for some reason because men are too stupid to remember how bad tickling affects kids. Like, "Oh, he's laughing. That means he's having a blast." No dad, ya jackass, I want to die. My limbs are spazzing out and I'm this fucking close to throwing up all over your work shoes. Does it have to come to that? That being said, once my dad caught on, tickling became the biggest threat in his deck of cards. Dude didn't have to mention a spanking or "smacking me upside my head." All he had to say was, "tickle, tickle, tickle" and every pea/string bean was reluctantly devoured and all necessary rooms were cleans. I just started pulling As and Gold Stars out of my pockets along with 7 successfully completed science fair projects--in case the first 6 weren't perfect.

Spas for tickling? Might as well reconstruct Chuck E. Cheese and make a place where kids can go to get waterboarded. If someone gives me or my wife a gift certificate for a god damn tickle spa one day, I'm 1 million percent smacking them in the face and smashing their cellphone.
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It is what it is. I watched Star Wars tonight and that demanded all my creative energy.

Don't get me wrong, I love dogs, but when someone wants to smash all their dog views in my face I just hit them with kittens playing an invisible harp. Shuts everyone right up and puts them into a happy place.

This is pretty much what we need to get through a TOUGH Hump Day before a big vacation weekend.
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Each day at work I'm faced with some sort random task that directly correlates with my height being slightly above average. "Hey, do you mind changing the light bulbs today?" "Can you reach up to this vent up here and fix the AC?" Next time I get asked one of these favors I might just lose it and flash this very diagram. "Sorry bro, what do I look like Sultan Kosen? Figure it out."

It's not my problem that all my co-workers hover around 5'7. Didn't sign up to be the designated tall dude. I work in the web department damnit. I'm here to use my mind, which solely entails mouse clicks and eyes locked in with the computer screen.

Let's not forget the sneaky heavy lifting requests too. "Heyyy big guy - if we could use you for a second to move these desks around that would be fantastic." "New chairs came in today, when you get a chance can you throw a couple of these old ones (all 20 of them) down by the dumpster? Thanks!" Just another Tuesday at the office.

Sidenote: Yeah I'm wearing a 1920's Ivy cap in that picture...rocking the shit out of it too.

Monday, June 27, 2011

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When you search "Dub Jeezy" on Google, Working Man's Diary is the third link. If that doesn't garner at least an image-less Wikipedia page by day's end I don't know what will.

I'm trying to figure out why this hasn't happened yet and I'm still completely in the dark. I checked, and yes, P. Diddy has a fucking Wikipedia. If you really think about it, what has Diddy really done aside from Sean John and "Mo' Money Mo' Problems"? Honestly, the fucking kid that made that BS "Chocolate Rain" has a Wikipedia page. That kid sucks more than terminal illness. I'm just saying, I run a multi-media-mini-mini-empire that is ready to crush the scene in roughly 5-22 years. Things take time, but I'm pretty sure a Wikipedia page would really set things in motion.

Readers (I know you're out there, I see the metrics) I'm not asking for much. I'm just looking to have a 2000-5000 word write up about the endeavor that is being Dub Jeezy. Put up fake quotes if you want, but it just needs to be up. STAT.
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Is it me, or is this emaciated pooch desperately gasping for breath? He clearly wants nothing to do with this cup and just wants a bowl of heavily oxygenated water. Maybe an IV, I don't know.

As much as I want to dodge the gross elephant in the room, this dog is a disaster. The equivalent of a 14.0 magnitude quake in his grill. I'd let this dog clean up the food I drop on the ground, but even in my heart of hearts, I can't put my all into caring for Yoda. Despite the awesome name, I can't. Real CGI 850 year old Yoda would fare better at the bars than you, man. Not a good look.

Someone get this dude a Propel and a motorized scooter, because that right paw looks ridiculously out of proportion.

Friday, June 24, 2011

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Cool Friday question, but not really. This shit's actually terribly depressing for so many reasons. It's even worse when people can answer the question at the drop of the dime like..I can. 6th grade. That was it for me. I've been a snowball rolling down a moderately steep hill ever since.

Let's paint the picture. I'll start by saying I was the fucking man. Killing it at just about every facet, because that's all you can hope for these days. Academically I was murdering math tests and giggling at social studies exams. Athletically I was one of the most dominant PGs in NYC (true story) and was getting some Ohio St.-esque treatment from potential suitors--like gym bags, offers for sneakers, and trips. Big ups to Terrelle Pryor, I would have done the same thing. Socially, I was the belle of the ball. Tons of friends and girls wrote me those "Do you like me: Yes? No?" things. On top of the world. Couldn't ask for anything more at the time. As soon as the bell rang on the last day of 6th grade is truthfully the start of the end of my life. I legitimately peaked at 11 years old, respectively.

Fast forward to now. First off, I had trouble spelling "significantly" today--that's not good. Athletically, I regressed from an all-world point guard, to a weird, gangly combo-forward thing that just chucked ugly mid-rangers off the backboard. Now I'm a playground legend at a park inhabited by high-school youths and crackheads. It's fine. Socially, I have like 7 total friends. 922 Facebook friends, but legitimately 7 actual friends. I'm at a solid job and I have a 401K. Cell phone contacts are almost barren as far as women go, and my PS3 just wants me to stop playing it so much. So, when did your life start to go downhill?

And the snowball keeps a tumbling.

Thursday, June 23, 2011

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I'd be more surprised that the sun came out tomorrow than Ron Artest changing his name to Metta World Peace. I'm not gonna front, Metta is a baller-ass name. There's no way around that one.

But let's talk about the elephant in the room. Dumbo being the fact that his jersey may read, World hyphen Peace and the other fact that he may beat someone to immobilization in the first preseason game. It's the biggest ticking time bomb waiting to happen. I'm truly pumped to see how Ron deals with this newfound responsibilty. Dude's on that Spiderman swag, "with great power comes great responsibility."

Guarantee this bomb blows up, almost immediately.
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I've been in silence for too long about this. I honestly thought this was an elaborate hoax by Coors Light to create shock and awe that would lead to people being so freaked out and bewildered that they order Coors Light. Nah, they were deadly fucking serious.

Don't get me wrong, I've had a few (1 billion) Coors Lights in my day, and I kinda like them. I just don't get what they're doing out there. Playing nervous or some shit. Bud Light (also, 1 billion deep) doesn't play games. When they get weird, they do things like make aluminum bottles. Nothing crazy. That's like when I go to work and unbutton that second button. I'm just letting people know I mean business, while at the same time wouldn't be opposed to a party.

Coors Light is like the rich asshole that makes a joke and laughs before anyone can react. They think they're cool and hook up with hot girls, but they are dead on the inside.

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

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This fucking cat is freaking me out. That was the most human reaction I've ever seen from an animal. If I'm caught singing Britney Spears or some other banger people wouldn't expect me to sing, I do exactly the same thing. I look back, collect my thoughts, and start rapping the highest rap song on the Billboard Top 100. Just trying to save face out here. I can respect the hell out of this guy, because he's playing the game like it was intended to be played. He clearly saw some rabbits or some other annoying woodland critter in his lawn taking dumps and what not and felt that his meow wouldn't get the point across effectively. Nothing wrong with digging in the reserves for your secret dog bark to make things happen.

My "fake intimidation voice" would most certainly be a sassy latina. They get what they want when they want.
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I can't wait to see the day-after news reports on, "Man Torn Limb from Limb by Indifferent Lion." I can't believe this dude is legitimately training to fight a lion. I've never heard of anything more pointless than "working out" to fight a lion. That's like me getting a shootaround in before facing off in a one-on-one with 1994 Michael Jordan.

Nothing will warm my soul more than when this insufferable douchebag gets figuratively put in his place by this lion.
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Seriously, J.K. Rowlings has got my balls by the vice grip right now. It's becoming a problem because I've been feverishly checking this god damn website like every 4.5 minutes just hoping for something. She said she was announcing it today and told us to click that fucking owl on the left, but I clicked it and got hoodwinked again. Shit took me to a Youtube video of her big fat joke announcement counter. I'm tired of seeing counters. Not trying to count 10 hours and 45 minutes down when you can very easily have a video telling us what these fucking owls are plotting on their branch perches. It's bullshit JK. You're like Oprah for me. I'll eat whatever you prepare.

Just let me know what's on the menu.

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

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--Girls, you can just skip this post. If you choose to read on, I'll probably marry you. Choice is yours.

This one is for all you gamers out there. You ever play a game and something so fucking terrifying just pops up out of nowhere? I don't know about you guys, but I straight up put the controller down debate turning off the system and removing myself of that situation for like 3 hours.

Keep in mind, I do this when cartoon spiders attack me in my "E" for everything games. The games that are supposed to keep me grounded. If I'm dabbling in a REAL game, with blood and shit, I still don't expect things like "Piggsy" to come out. I don't even know what game "Piggsy" is from, which makes it way scarier. Like any game I buy now might feature a guest appearance by my pig-faced friend up here. Though wildly unlikely, NBA 2K12 MIGHT feature a guest appearance by Piggsy. I don't know. I'm too scared thinking about it. Legitimately the biggest bitch in the game when it comes to video games that take place in the dark. When I'm ready to check out in the stores and the nerd Gamestop dudes ask me if I have any questions, I desperately want to ask, "Does that game primarily take place in non-dark, sunlit regions?" but I'm way too embarrassed and scared to broach the topic.

I know some of you guys can relate out here. You've played "Resident Evil" and during some weird sequences, "Ratchet & Clank." Games get scary, and someone had to address it.

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A few notables from the Boston Bruins bar tab Saturday night after winning Game 7 of the Stanley Cup Finals. $100,000, 30-liter bottle of Midas champagne, 136 Bud Lights, 36 RedBulls, 2 Blue Moons, 1 Amstel Light, zero food ordered.

First of all...gotta love the dude at the party who's like "you know what I'm all good with the champagne, an Amstel Light will do just fine." A few teammates chime in from there saying "hey man good call - I'll take a Corona." Meanwhile across the way is the Bud Light and RedBull shotgunning brigade.

The one thing I found most intriguing was out of a $156,679.74 tab, not one dollar went towards food. Shit if I won the Stanley Cup I'd be ordering every appetizer and seafood entree in the joint. Don't get me wrong this is coming from a fat guy, but that's neither here nor there. All I know is that night right there haunts the family men on the squad. Couple days after the finals and the husbands and fathers are back at home with a handful of souvenirs watching Nick at Nite leaving it for the young guns to rock out.
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There is 0% chance this little Asian girl is taking this cartoonish robot seriously, right? Honestly, I don't know anymore. Everyone is putting a bit too much faith in these things and I can only wait until one of them turns on us.

I'm not going to lie, I'm jealous as hell. Kindergarten would have been exponentially more fun if I had a robot teaching me. The alphabet and shoe-tying would have certainly taken a backseat to napping and pressing robot buttons all day-erryday. What's it going to do, call my mom? Robot please. It's like, if you threaten to call my mom, I'll threaten to accidentally spill my juice box dangerously close to your power cord. Someone needs to upload that new "compromise or else I die" software in this dude soon or else that'll be a piss poor investment real quick. this is what the Asian population has been doing to stay ahead of the game in literally every educational category. Secrets out bitches.

Monday, June 20, 2011

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This was poetry in motion. Purely watching someone do something that they're meant to do.

I'm starting to plateau in regards to my array of dance moves. Currently, I have reached a crossroads in how to attack the dance circle. It's turning into double-dutch out there. You have a 0.05 second window to get in there and perform or else you're ass is the laughing stock of the sketchy basement, at which point you become the rattiest of the rats. I'm going to study this kid's moves all week to the point where I'll be better adjusted to make things happen out there.

This video raises serious questions about PEDs being used in the bar scene. This kid is going to be burnt out and addicted to steroids and painkillers before he can have his first beer.

PS. Old white dude at 0:42 is FASCINATED.
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God dammit. Not happy about this at all. There will never be a point where I can enjoy this food item in peace. Not that I want to, but if the opportunity arose, it will never be in the cards.

As soon as I order this, I will literally be stared at by everyone in the surrounding area, regardless of ethnicity. Like, "look, HE's eating it." I'm not ready for that. I don't have that type of resolve within myself. Who was the "pioneer" who decided on this one huh? We should have just stopped at fried pickles. Those things are surprisingly decent. That was definitely our peak as a frying society. Absolutely no going up from that. Then someone decided to fry liquid, which I'm still in the dark about that whole process.

I'm not saying this is going to be detrimental to black culture, but let's just say we are going to have to rebuild a few bridges after this one.
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This is just like seeing a jar of salsa in the back of the fridge that you know has been there since September and still considering eating it--except this is an OLD ass dude being released from prison. Gross misjudgment on the part of everyone. On the guy for living til 108 on prison gruel and tap water and on the prison for releasing a prune into the wild.

108 is a delicate age. There is a very real chance that non-prison air could legitimately kill this dude. This guy's body has adjusted to a certain molecule arrangement and the second he leaves the diameter he's probably going to disintegrate. Just fizzle into dust and scooped into the trash.

Anything past age 90 is ridiculous. You're guaranteed to be either eccentric, offensive, senile, or most likely, all of the above. I'm requesting to be cut off starting year 2077 if I unfortunately to make it that long.

Friday, June 17, 2011

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...Not that anyone questioned it’s existence or anything.

A drop of this seemingly fake substance flew into my eye at lunch today, and I haven’t been the same. Rockin' the hand-over-eye-excel-shortcut-swag all day. Been playing through the pain on my pirate shit from like 2:15 till now.

But come on, when the science teacher brought up the idea of acid rain, you didn’t really believe it right? That shit seemed so preposterous, that I just took an L on that question during quizzes and test. Any question pertaining to acid rain was just left blank because I’m baller and above those stupid concepts (kidding Mom, every question was answered and checked through twice).

Now I’m a believer. Shit’s real and 100% effective on partially blinding you for 3+ hours. Just another reason Northeast weather sucks—diluted sulfuric acid money shots.

Thursday, June 16, 2011

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Dude's so German it's not even funny. A perfect mix of goon, scary, and awesome. Never before has someone dabbled in all three of those things and hasn't been arrested.

It goes without saying that he was shitfaced during this, but what's good with the other Mavericks just hanging out. Shawn Marion and Jason Terry looking all disinterested and shit. I'd be hysterically crying literally the entire time. Proves yet again I'm not cut out for the NBA.
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There's nothing more haunting in the midst of a causal work day than looking over to the bottom left of your respective computer screen at a pop up icon that reads "heyyyy guys" (sigh) And so it begins. Don't get me wrong its nice to hear from the buddies...and sometimes I get sucked in even though at some point I'll get slammed with a stack of papers as the personal pop ups keep rolling in. Around three hours later when it's safe to finally check the typically overzealous thread I'm hit with a good 30 or so one-liners regarding absolutely nothing.

If I don't respond for a while it's clear that the ensuing conversation has inevitably shifted to my absence. "Where's Craw? Haha oh yeah...his job sucks. I've been chillin' with my feet up eating cake all day because everything is so god damn peachy over here. So what's the plan again tonight?"

My email thread efficiency is simply atrocious. Either I'm not contributing at all or I'll come in late and keep it short with something along the lines of "I hate you all"...Yet I still get the nod. At least Dub J is always on the same page. That's one dude I can count on. In each thread that starts up I'll get a chat from him just seconds later stating one of three things: 1) Did you see this shit? 2) How pissed are you right now? 3) Fuck. There will come a day when I no longer make the email thread roster. When that day comes...You know what I think I'll be just fine.

Wednesday, June 15, 2011

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Chick Does 21 Different Accents - Watch more Funny Videos

I think I like her? Not sure, but I know she is pompous as fuck. Definitely a turn on in some situations, but probably not this one. She's getting filmed with a like a Kodak video-camera in front of a gray wall, so she's definitely not pulling me in with that. Also, am I tone deaf or did she do the British accent like 13 times? Everything started sounding the same at some point. Felt like it was some mandatory meeting I had to attend at work and all the sounds start blending together.

Chicks, man, chicks.
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I knew one of these games was going to come out. Once I saw the Wii using motion-control and then the X-Box making that Kinect bullshit, the wheels were set in motion for "games" like this. I can't live with the fact that the hot game of the future will probably be called, "Affection 2K11" or some other brand of lonely kid wackness.

Is this chick in the picture in Purgatory? That's exactly what I picture it to be. Nothing but infinite white space and the most depressingly indifferent game to be created.
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Nameless, faceless Koalas just GETTING after it all over Australia. Can't grab a beach chair without hearing some strange rustling in the trees. It'll ruin your day even more now that you know that the rustling is the sound of chlamydia being contracted.

You can't say it any simpler other than the fact that Koala Bears are fucking up on so many levels. Living life having unprotected sex and really not establishing a second food option aside from a Eucalyptus tree. If a Eucalyptus tree dies or gets cut down, do like 15 Koalas die in that region? Eat some bugs or something fellas, don't put your high values above yourself. You guys are too bizarrely adorable to all of a sudden go extinct.

I'm down to direct/produce a weird Koala safe-sex PSA as well as plant a few Eucalyptus trees in the fields to do my part. Lying distantly behind penguins are koalas as the exotic animal I want to irresponsibly own.

Tuesday, June 14, 2011

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Yup. That's me right there surrounded by The Backstreet Boys in sheer regret that I didn't attend their monster performance at Fenway Park with New Kids on the Block. God damnit. Just let a once in a lifetime opportunity slip away through pure ignorance. Could've been screaming "Everybody" and "The Right Stuff" with the best of them.

A friend of mine recently posted BSB killing "I Want It That Way" with the Green Monster lit up in the background on my facebook wall. Couple of my Maine buddies asked me if I went to the show. Earlier in the week I got a text from my dad saying they were on Good Morning America...But hold on a second. Why am I receiving all these NKOTBSB tour questions and updates??? Suddenly I'm the go-to guru for washed up boy band performances...Before I was under the impression that I'm a working man in my young 20's too cool to be seen belting out ballads with the old moms and little kids. 

Then it all hit me. Wasn't too long ago when fat-little Craw was rummaging around the pantry for more Wheat Thins in his Scooby-Doo PJ's with Backstreet's Back on full blast (man those were the days). Secret's been out dude. NKOTBSB was fucking awesome 10 years ago, today, and in 20 years down the road.  Can't afford to overlook something this monumental ever again. Simple as that. 
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Finally the book that says what every parent is thinking about their 0-13 year old boy/girl. Parents are immediately sick of their kids within seconds of them popping out. Starting out like, "Oh my god, he's beautiful!!" (2 days later after not sleeping and cleaning up tons of poop) "....I don't even like you. You're ugly as hell too."

Samuel L. has always been real. Telling it like it is since sometime in the 1980s. I sent this to my mom and she hasn't stopped laughing because she can relate to this. According to her, little Dub was a terror in the purest form. Consistently down to aggravate and annoy for literally 24 hours. I would ask so many questions and walk away right as they were being answered. Pure dickhead tactics. Literally woke my mom up at like 5:30am on some random Saturdays because I couldn't adequately poor orange juice correctly--and I wasn't even thirsty! I'd just mention that shit to her and walk away. Even though you got hooked up on Mother's Day, this is a secondary belated gift for you.

Listen to it 100 times and just erase the memories of the past.
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A new segment I'm thinking about starting because I feel like adding some pizazz to this thing. As of late, I've been having some fucked up dreams that I feel need documenting. I usually wake up and forget what happened, but today I decided to catch it. As soon as I woke up from one, I wrote down what I remembered on my phone and went back to sleep. All for you readers. All for you..

Setting: Some future shit. Kind of like Terminator Salvation.

Plot: I'm at war furiously fighting for my life. I'm ripped. Cut up like a Julianne Salad with some Gears of War mega-gun in my hand looking awesome. The dream seems like it's going to be fantastic--aka the necessary fuel needed to get through a Tuesday. It was until I realized I was fighting..bubbles. A constant stream of the most vividly colorful bubbles to ever attack Earth. They didn't even seem threatening. Like if they touched you, it'd be a minor inconvenience, but you'd overall be ok. That was not the case. People were running like Japanese people seeing Godzilla and hipsters seeing the Cloverfield monster. Except they were running from bubbles. I wish I could have woken up then, but I had to deal with the underlying love story and me ultimately suffering a HORRIFIC death by the hands of a god damn bubble.

Probably should be the first and last of this segment, right?

Monday, June 13, 2011

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Not sure what this thing is even for aside from human dismemberment, but I can really see it being useful in the office. Paper, broken chairs, cabinets, interns that won't hook up with you, and generic garbage can all be tossed in it.

Real talk, did my man toss a bag of diamonds in there at some point in the video? That shit doesn't even make sense because that's easily millions of dollars of diamonds being tossed into a Venus Fly trap devil machine. Baller, kinda. Wasteful, yes. An odd mix, but we all need to break up the 40 hour week somehow. Maybe dismemberment, blood splatter, and efficient office cleaning is what you need after spending a few years on the grind.

Work sucks. It can't seriously be Tuesday.
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Despite the temperature being sub-60 degrees today, it's starting to get hot around these parts. That means beach season is back in session. I couldn't be less fucking thrilled. I hate the beach. I'm EXACTLY like that tired ass seal up there when I'm on a beach.

I'm always verbally assaulted within seconds of getting on beaches. "Dub get in the water" "Dub your sand castle sucks" "Turn off your Ipod man and toss the football with us" Hate, hate, fucking hate. Leave me alone on the beach. I'm just trying to get my bearings out there. Literally haven't comfortably stood on sand at any point in my life. Consistently spraining my ankle casually walking near the water. The terrain is awful, the water is cold, the girls aren't as hot as you're expecting them to be, and there are douchebags everywhere. Johnny Bravos all over the place.

Hey, I'll pass this year. If I somehow get conned out there, you best believe I'll be on my lazy seal shit all day.
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Call me John Hollinger in this bitch. I'm done looking at the standard stats like points, rebounds, and assists. I'm not diving into PER. You got to break it down even further. Overly affectionate dudes win NBA championships. Factual.

High-fives in basketball are a dangerous practice. You really put yourself out there when you toss that hand up in the direction of a teammate. An all-your-eggs in one basket scenario. If that teammate doesn't see your hand, you are left assed out looking like a god damn fool while the entire crowd points and laughs at you. Best case scenario, he slaps hands with you and it's really no big deal. The risk-reward doesn't match up at all. But guess what? I wasn't very affectionate, and I have zero basketball championships to my name. Especially an NBA one.

Simply another case where the cool kid in high school spirals into a life of despair and blogging.

Thursday, June 9, 2011

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I shoot like 37% from the field on successfully completed captchas. It's at the point where it's RARE that I complete one on the first try. I literally pat myself on the back if I get it done on the first go. "You still got it Dub." No reason to make it that hard.

Now I know for a fact the ONLY reason that we don't get that many comments is from those fucking captchas. People see those and are instantly turned off. Total boner killers. So I will do my best to get rid of those and allow you guys to leave hundreds of comments per post. I don't particularly know how to stop them, but I'm pretty sure I have to talk to Google--which I'm 100% sure isn't possible. That being said, I'll give it a go.

Drinks tonight? Sure, why not?
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If Drake says the acronym for his name is: Do Right And Kill Everything, then this elephant should have something way more elaborate and fierce. Because this elephant literally killed everything. That fucking cow needs to keep it's head on a swivel if it's just going to pop in the street like that.

On another topic, why is it common folklore that elephants are scared of mice. I'm pretty sure this elephant killed at least 1000 mice somewhere along this path.

Wednesday, June 8, 2011

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So apparently this clip is now shown at the Alamo Draft House Theater in Austin, TX before every R-rated film in place of the standard "Don't Talk or Text" PSA. This woman really had it coming with the outlandish customer complaint. Tim League, founder/CEO also added his own personal message on the theater's blog page in regards to the matter.

"Ma'am, you may be free to text in all the other theaters in the Magnited States of America, but here at our "little crappy ass theater," you are not. Why you may ask? Well, we actually do give a f*$k."

Jesus who is this dude Clint Eastwood? Better luck next time lady. Everybody knows she just wants free shit whether its movie passes or coupons. I envy the businessman who will tell a rude customer to stick it where the sun don't shine. I hope he sent a written letter as well to thank her for improving business through their fantastic new PSA. So badass.
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Do you just @ the shit out of people? If so, what happens then? To tell you the truth, I don't see too many differences from this and a text message. You basically send a "mention" and hope for the best, much like every dude that has ever sent out a text.

I'm seeing all these politicians tweeting their Ds off and quite frankly, I want in. Not the sending my D part, but establishing a flirt relationship with a follower. Solely to get @WMsDiary Twitter name on the map, of course. I can't have CNN and TMZ coming into my place of work forcing me to point my private parts out of a line-up (What up Anthony Weiner!). Not a good look. What I do want, is to wake up one day to see a nice message from some overzealous fan, saying how they love Dub Jeezy...or Craw. Nothing crazy, no real pizazz. Just something that will make the 9-5 speed by a little easier.

So if anyone has tips feel free to let me know. Obviously, no one is going to comment on this because of god damn CAPTCHA's--I'm trying to get rid of it, but let me know via other forms of contact. I WANT to know.
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I'm not saying I'd love my kid less based on poor test results, but I'm definitely saying I'd love my kid less if they did poor on the test. It's not my fault or their fault. Just the tale of the tape.

It's like rolling a dice with a baby. Don't know if you're getting a dud or a stud. The fact that you put so much time into trying to figure it out makes you grow to love the kid. Take away the flare and surprise and I guarantee you are not going to see many loveable parent-child relationships. Especially from Papa Jeezy. I can't imagine my conversation with the doctor after a poor result:

Me: Tell me the good news Doc.
Doctor: Unfortunately your son...isn't going to be athletic. At all.
Me: That's not possible. I'
Doctor: I'm so sorry. I hope you can have a good day sir.
Me: Hey Doc, one last question.
Doctor: Yes?
Me: Does that mean I still have to keep it?

On that wildly controversial note, I'm definitely going to wrap this post up. Don't sleep on this test eventually ruining society, because all those meatheads and jocks won't exactly dive into fatherhood with a smile.
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Come on now. This is literally the most bullshit example, but it's the best I can find. To me, a typical, dedicated perforated line is nearly invisible and basically the same thing as the paper itself. Clearly I've been dealing with an undetected mental deficiency.

Things came to light when I was in the break room and had to open the new box of sugar packets. I thought it was going to be one of those pull back the tab things, but nope, a god damn perforated line. Acting as my kryptonite for years. You know how many SATs I had to snag? Three. Three motherfuckin SAT packets were ripped to shreds before I can even get started. It was the most embarrassing moment of my life. You don't know wrath until you hold up the most important test everyone in the room is taking for 15 minutes. But back to the sugar packet box. It was a disaster scene. Packets of sugar everywhere. The box was sliced into thirds, which I didn't even know was possible. I made an effort to concentrate too. Damn near broke down and cried at 9:04am.

Sure, you can knock me. Call me stupid and uncoordinated all you want, but you all have that random thing you can't do well for some reason. Some people can't fold paper evenly. I can fold the shit out of paper, but I don't throw stones at you. Just relate and slide gracefully over humpday.


Tuesday, June 7, 2011

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I remember when I got 152 friends on Facebook. Took like 6 minutes. Are you kidding me with this shit? It's 2011 and you could only muster up 152 people on your friend list? When the "Book" first came along for each generation I can only imagine that every person was frantically requesting everyone they remotely knew. Mailmen chillin' at the crib with 184 notifications and shit.

This is so stupid for a number of reasons. The second I found out this scallywag was putting my grillspot on her lower thigh I would un-friend and report this bitch so fast it wouldn't be the least bit funny. When she's getting denied job upon job in the future, she'll have to explain that all the faces on her body were "former" friends.

NOTE: It tells you to go to Youtube to watch it, which I HIGHLY recommend. I hate this chick so much.

-Thanks ER
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So the nerd E3 video-game conference was this week and I secretly love it. I keep tabs on that shit like a modern day watch dog--seeing what's good with the gadgets and games of the future.

Nintendo decided to be the wildcard this year and release an entirely new console since everyone realized that WiiSports is only so fun. It was literally one of those moments where the anticipation was built and people were sweating with anxiety. Then they took this thing out and everyone had one of those, "I don't know what that is, but I probably shouldn't look too surprised because no one else looks that surprised" looks on their face. Dudes confused, chicks confused, everyone pissed. Not a good look for Nintendo's big unveiling.

But really now, what is that thing? It looks like a childish Ipad or something. Apparently you play what you see on that screen on your TV screen? I don't know. That would kind of take away the purpose of one of the screens though, wouldn't it? Again, I don't know. Lastly, don't these controllers/consoles have to cost roughly $500? What about people that actually have friends? Each gaming experience people share together is going to cost like $3000. Ridiculous.

I missed the cool kid's boat on the Wii and I've been a hater ever since. Just following suit.
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This is a god damn travesty. I've been saving my pennies for literally 20 years just hoping I wouldn't have to spend literally 2 1/2 hours at a Coinstar embarrassingly dumping pennies into a robot. What will become of these full-ass piggy banks strewn throughout my house?

It looks like I'm going to fall the fate of this guy. Getting fucking incarcerated for paying my portion of the Comcast bill with 4000 pennies. I don't know what else I'm going to do. I can't in good conscience throw out potentially millions of dollars of pennies in the trash. Do I donate it to a homeless dude? What will they do with it? If they buy nips with it, they're getting arrested--which in retrospect, isn't the worst idea.

You backed me into a corner, law enforcement. I'm forced to melt my coins and build the most baller copper skateboard in the game and scream out, "Fuck the Poe-Leece" with some Rob Dyrdek swag.

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I swear bullpen pitchers and catchers have the best jobs in the world. Where else can you make up the most ridiculous games simply to pass time while calling yourself a professional athlete all in one. Middle relievers just gotta get up there and throw heat (if say the team ever actually needs them in the 6th or 7th). Otherwise dudes are just thinking up contests and placing bets on the most random shit.

Check this video of the Minnesota Twins bobsled dance to the bullpen. I was completely battled at this one. You think NFL linemen could put together some cool dance moves before kickoff...Not a chance (despite its great potential entertainment wise). God damnit this is the life. Weekly checks by the thousands to entertain your fellow cronies and look good out there in warm ups. Undoubtedly the coolest profession in all of sports.

Monday, June 6, 2011

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Jesus Chuck, can you look more like a pregnant middle-aged black woman here? I respect the hell out of you, but every time a video or a picture surfaces of you in public there's a 100% chance it's embarrassing.

Aren't you rich as hell? Pretty sure you're supposed to have a personal shopper or at the least an assistant to pick up 13 Ben & Jerry cartons for you. It's not a good look pulling up to the register with Ice-Cream, Beef Jerky, every type of DiGiorno and two 3 liters of Hawaiian Punch if you're in the Basketball Hall of Fame.

I think there's a good shot that's his weekly order. Charles hasn't touched a vegetable since '89.

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EMBED-Quick Spinning Hook Kick KO - Watch more free videos

An embarrassing display of agility and the ability to dodge right here. Sidenote, this kid's dead. A simple case of running into a buzz-saw at the wrong time. The other kid was way too prepared for this. He definitely ate 2 boxes of Wheaties that morning and screamed profanities at his dog for an hour prior to this fight. Plus this other kid is wearing a helmet like a herb. I completely understand that if he didn't wear that helmet, his head would have exploded onto the crowd, but still. Go out with some pride. Be the guy that takes over for me tomorrow morning with the headline article, "Karate Competition Gets Ugly: Head Explodes From A Roundhouse Kick To Domepiece." Think about the 40 hour a week guys.

Now you're just going to die from an aneurysm in like 10 years because you didn't let you head explode on Come on man.
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Every so often I kind of need a kick in the pants to remind me of the shit I used to get into back in the day. This post-grad life is slowly killing me and rapidly erasing the memories of my past. It's like I have the plague or some shit. Deteriorating way too fast.

Pictures like these are essentially keeping me alive. Just knowing there are still kids out there putting couches on tops of bunks above other couches let's me know there is still blood in my veins. I bet his roommates came in, saw the couch on the top of the bunk, and proceeded to shrug their shoulders and sit on the other couch. No questions asked. I remember I came back to my house senior year one particularly rambunctious evening and found at least 1000 beers on the ground along with pieces of multiple brooms/mops and possibly a puddle of blood or jungle juice. I gave it a 2 second look over, shrugged my shoulders, and went to bed. Woke up, took my hangover in stride and never addressed what happened.

That's how college works. Get shitfaced, ask no questions, accept your degree, and eventually die.
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Every old dude rocks their own brand of crazy. Making shit up, saying offensive things, and most of all, requesting to get buried in odd places. If all goes well, 50 years from now I'll be telling my kids about how I was the commissioner of the NBA AND the NFL, how much I hated short people, and requesting to be buried in a double cheeseburger wrapper off the dollar menu.

A pretty expected ending, if you ask me. Also, how are Pringles still in business? Didn't those "once you pop, the fun won't stop ads" end in like 1994? The drunk college/drunk young professional crowd could only buy so many $1.29 Pringle-mini packs. I know I've definitely supported the company with my consistent late night shitfaced menu of: 3 liter Poland Spring, 2 double-packs of White-Castle Cheeseburgers, and 1 can of BBQ Pringles. Called that shit the "3, 2, 1 Throw Up Combo." No I didn't, but that's definitely what I should have named it.

No shame in yo' game old dude. I can't knock you from my double-cheeseburger-wrapper ivory tower.

Thursday, June 2, 2011

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Me: Hey, hows it going?

FedEx guy: Good. What's your last name again?

Me: Crawford (reach to sign device)

FedEx guy: Haaave a good one.

Me: You too

Just look at that god damn smile. I've been seeing through that shit for 2 1/2 years now. Everyday I see the same FedEx guy and recite the same seven words listed above.  Should I feel bad here for not mixing it up? Sometimes I'll throw in a what's going on but that obviously won't get him talking. But each time we meet I can't help but think that he still doesn't remember my last name. Come on bro. Write it down or something - we go way back.

Granted it's the most minimal acquaintanceship in the history of mankind it's still there. I know our repetitive awkward encounter marks just one of hundreds for him through his daily routine. I'll have to catch him off guard one day and ask what his favorite color is. Maybe take a shot in the dark and wish him a happy birthday. Perhaps I'll inquire about the weather for starters.

Some part of me wants to dive right into deep conversation. Sort of like when Ben Affleck pours is heart out to Matt Damon in Good Will Hunting. "You know what the best part of my day is? The best part of my day is walking out front to sign for packages...thinking that maybe this will be the day you tell me a story about your kids or something." I could also take the Robin Williams route and try to break down that shield of a smile by repeating "it's not your fault." Unfortunately until then it's just going through the motions.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011

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Granted, I'm still rattled from the tornado/lightning storm, but I didn't get the funny in this sign for like 10 minutes. I stared at it like it was some sort of Salvador Dali painting. Questioning myself with, "Does hoeing refer to farming?" "Is that a church or the back of a farm?" Needless, dead-end questions.

Then I realized this may be the greatest quote for any dude between the age of 16-35. Pure unadulterated advice. You don't have to open a fortune cookie for this one. I've literally been casually asking the big guy about a good harvest for at least 11 straight years. It hasn't hit yet, but that doesn't mean a brotha doesn't need to bring in the crops for that season. Those tomatoes ain't going to buy shots for themselves (get it?). All in all, I learned a lot from this picture find and I hope you did too. So just check that informational box and let's just cut the bullshit.

PS. Follow me on Twitter. I'm shooting like 47% from the field on humorous tweets. All-Star numbers. @WMsDiary
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I'm not going to lie, dude sees a problem and he solves it. Didn't want these broads performing a concert in the backyard while he was trying to get after it on the slip'n slide. Nothing but respect for this young cat.

That being said, a fucking tornado touched down on Mass. tonight. I thought that was the one perk of living in Northeast, no natural disasters. Jokes on me I guess. Just wasn't planning on hiding under the blankets at age 23, hoping for the best. Seriously though, what the fuck does a blanket do? Why is that the #1 choice of "protection" when shit is going down? It's easily the wackest choice in the game. Maybe kevlar? A giant turtle shell? I don't know.

Rapture clock is back on.