Monday, December 31, 2012

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God dammit. I didn't want to talk about it, but I'm fascinated with this unborn child that potentially doesn't exist.

As much as we hate to admit it, this baby represents modern America. With all of the reality TV we watch, gossip mags we read, and garbage that we consume, we as a country earned this baby. A baby so screwed that I have mixed emotions even talking about it. This thing will be the crack-baby of opulence. Addicted to clothing brands my poor-people eyes can't even process, baby food imported from New Zealand, and most of all its name. Everyone is throwing out suspicions of cocky ass gender ambiguous names like "Kanye II" and assorted symbols like: "$" and "}", but I think they're going to mess with all of us and name it something like "Matt" or "Jennifer."

London had the "Royal Wedding" and we're going to have, "What Are They Going To Name This Poor/Rich Bastard." I call this baby poor because there is no fate worse than stumbling on a video of your mother having sex with a man named Ray-J that had his own two-season reality show on VH1. Nothing worse than that. And parents that will routinely forget what your name is because they will stop caring about you in like 3 weeks.

This made me think about the inevitable day that I produce some offspring. What if they find out about WMD? I think my only option is to leave a bag of money in the house and flee the country because if this shit is embarrassing now, imagine what it'll be like in 30 years. Can't have my kids responding to "Wash the dishes" with "Yeah, right....Dub Jeezy. Pfft."

I'm worried for you K-baby, but not really.


Friday, December 28, 2012

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Everyone is going to jump on this guy's back and act like he's some big prude or something. Nah, I feel your plight, bro. I can't say I have been in this situation, but I have gotten into some high stakes pillow fights when I was younger and soft suffocation is probably the worst way to go.

Look at that cleavage. Where does it end? A centimeter down? All the way down at that bottom of your monitor? I don't know and frankly, that scares me. Imagine the hell it must be to find yourself trapped betwixt two never-ending bosoms with no possible way out. I'd have this bitch arraigned too if she tried to pull this shit. Can't even begin to think how this guy escaped either. Based on my calculations, there's like a 75% chance you can end up in Narnia if you make a wrong turn on Quadrant 1, Section 2b of the right boob.

PS. Is it bad that I still don't really have a grasp of what breast size actually means? 38DD just sounds like a Battleship move to me.

PPS. Bro, I still kinda know what you look like:

Thursday, December 20, 2012

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A new year, a new way to shame your kids because you don't have a grasp on society. It's ok, I have a blog and I say shit on it that's occasionally helpful. Plus I was a kid like 20 years ago, so I'm basically tapped into what today's children like. Let Dub lead the way, parents.

Gift Idea 1) Pee and Poo

So many "I'm the shit" and "Shittin' on y'all" jokes to be had with this duo. The pee is clearly the Robin to the poo's Batman, but an unstoppable combo nonetheless. Borderline must-have.

Gift Idea 2) Blippy, aka Fucking Blippy

Took creative control with the name a bit there, but as you can see, this is the perfect toy if you have a bad-ass kid. One of those assholes that doesn't even try to listen. Wrap Blippy's ass up in a box and watch discipline levels soar off the charts.

Gift Idea 3) Gutfish

In the terrible event that you can't afford "Operation." The "Safety School" of gifts.

Gift Idea 4) Stuffed STDs

Exactly why herpes is designed to look like the sun is beyond me. And what's the fuckin' deal with Chlamydia? These mysteries are EXACTLY why this toy is hot bananas right now. Parents can teach with nonsensical characters and make their kids absolutely terrified about having sex. I'm buying 100 for the daughter I don't have yet.

See you Friday, Mayans.

Tuesday, December 18, 2012

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I went home this past weekend to spend time with family and needless to say, my mother lost her mind. There was a whisper of pictures by someone and that flipped a switch in my mom's head. She basically scoured the house top to bottom for like 3 hours and came out with some absurd pictures. Because this blog is super transparent and I'm begging for some "Awww"s in the comments, let's take a look at two of the most ridiculous pics:

Picture #1:

-Whatchu know about a shirt that makes you kinda nauseous and has you thinking you're wearing 3D glasses, but you aren't? I mean come on now. It wasn't even fair to the other kids at the playground when I was out there obstructing people's vision. And those shorts? Can you say American? The game was already a blowout before we got to my long yellow socks.

Picture #2:

-All purple everything (except, strangely, the shoes) - looking like a confused container of grape Juicy Juice. Once you get past how much I channeled the artist formerly known as Prince, please focus your attention on that neon green fanny pack. What does a 4 year old need a fanny pack for you ask? If you have to ask, you weren't as cool as me and you obviously didn't have like 17 Teddy Grahams on your person at all times. Pink sunglasses in case the sun got in my eyes, homie.

PS. I'm just going to assume my mother was on a TON of LSD and Angel Dust during the early 90s and give her a mulligan.

Thursday, December 13, 2012

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Aside from the obvious fact that this duck is the most unfit mother in the animal kingdom, this was the most harrowing event that I have ever witnessed since the end of Bad Boys 2.

I want to know the informed decision that this duck made before trying to splatter herself and her kids on the pavement. Like, did it see the large, fast-moving, death machines barreling forward every second? And if so, was this duck just cocky as (wait for the rhyme scheme) fuck and had this all planned out the entire time. If it's the latter, consider my face covered with egg.

Can we talk about birds for a second? I've been having a HUGE issue with them as of late since I moved into my new apartment in September. Namely geese and the occasional psychopath turkey terrorize the park near my house. Basically the avian Bloods and one psychopathic Crip. You can't make eye contact, walk within 20 feet of them and you damn sure better not freak one of them out or it's over. And by "over" I mean you're in a fight to the fucking death with a goose. I don't want to be put into a situation where I have to snap a goose's neck. I don't. All bets are off if a turkey is involved. Vegas will probably have that fight as a "Pick 'em."

PS. Is it bad that, as a human, I demand a certain level of respect from any and all birds? I think that's reasonable. Like some birds get it. Those little sparrow things get the FUCK out of the way if you're within earshot. They get it.

"Shit my pants moment"

Wednesday, December 12, 2012

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What a rough 365 days for Kris Humpries, huh? Got dumped and is now getting cuckolded on the E! channel nightly. Got kinda beat up by Rajon Rondo and tweeted a picture with scratch marks. Couldn't possibly the 2011-2012 you expected.

And now this, bro:

This small ass ref couldn't even let you get the ball off the palm of your hand before he tried to Mutombo your shit. Dude is just praying for a fresh start so he can stop getting disrespected by every person that can possibly disrespect him.
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First we had SARS and then there was Bird Flu. Then gross ass pigs joined the party and Swine Flu was invented. Now we have reached the next stop on the CDC disaster train that is Being-An-Idiot-And-Burning-Yourself-With-An-Iron Flu. Very tragic. I'm a survivor and currently afflicted, so it brings me great sorrow to present another semi-equally terrible case Iron Flu.

The first sign that you might be getting sick is when you start getting real cocky while ironing. I'm talking no-look, steam filling the room type of antics. When it happened to me, I put my TV remote right next to the iron and reached for it without looking. That resulted in a life-threatening 14th degree burn on my pinky. This guy was in the same situation. Except instead of flipping between Homeland and Sunday Night Football, he confused his cell phone for the iron and scorched off half his face while leaving an undoubtedly hilarious iron imprint. Just know, this could have happened to any of you. Maybe it's a sign to start dry cleaning. Maybe it's time to visit a neurologist to determine if you have a problem distinguishing the weight of an iron and the weight of a cell phone. I don't know. All I do know is that I've listened to "Survivor" by Destiny's Child like 11 times and it hasn't gotten close to being old yet.


Tuesday, December 11, 2012

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I haven't the slightest clue on how to get a read on this thing. Like, what's your deal, little guy? Where'd you get that comically small, tailor-fit coat? Are you friendly? Do you know how ergonomic the Malm Bedroom set is? All very, very important questions that need answering.

First off, that jacket is bananas (intended) and the monkey clearly knows it. You see him leanin':
I know the look all too well. It's the lean you get when you're feeling yourself a little too much. Sidenote: really proud of the stereotypes here - Black guy skeptical and slightly terrified of the uncommon situation and presumably Asian tourist ready to snap a pic at a moment's notice.

Lastly, I love the planting yourself in Ikea move. This monkey wanted to be different. He didn't want to perch on someone's shoulder while they shopped. Abu basically did that already. Nah, this monkey wanted to establish residence in arguably the greatest place in the world to randomly establish residence.

Real talk, if I saw this:
right before I walked through the automatic door, I'd pause, turn right around, get in the car, go to the Red Lobster that's undoubtedly adjacent to Ikea and try to forget what I saw through a haze of Cheddar Bay biscuits.

Monday, December 10, 2012

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So last night I burned my finger while ironing my work clothes. As pure of a disaster as anything could possibly be. While I did wanted to cry, I was completely fine amputating my finger with a butter knife right on the spot. Then as the dust settled, I thought, "I honestly haven't been burned in like 15 years. This is terrifying." And then it made me think about injuries that twentysomethings straight up don't get anymore.

1) Burns
As indicated by that 9th degree burn on my finger, burns are no joke. You can basically see my bone marrow. Frankly it's amazing that I'm able to type right now. But yeah, who gets burned anymore? Assholes that still iron? Check. What else is there? I think the only things that qualify are unruly toaster ovens and tampered-with oven-mitt nightmares. Either way, I can't foresee myself getting a minor burn for the next 20 years.

2) A Regular Cut That Needs A Band-Aid
-Any cut that I get these days is just there. Sure there are a couple uncomfortable showers where you avoid trying to get soap on the spot, but all in all, it's left unattended roughly 100% of the time. You honestly think I OWN Band-Aids? Lolwut? The EXTENT of all injuries I get range from: small paper cut to kinda big paper cut. If I'm not there to get these spreadsheets out of the printer, who will?

3) A Splinter
-If you're getting splinters in 2012, you have a very serious problem. Either you're handling an unruly 2x4 or you're sitting on a sketchy park bench with some sad fabric on your jeans. You should be doing neither of those things. Also, I'm convinced that I still have some splinters in me from like '93. Shits got lodged so far into my blood stream that they just connected with my DNA and what not.

4) Stung By A Bee
Personally, I've never been stung in my life, but I know plenty of idiots that were. Using my guile, wit and just the right amount of bitchassness, I was able to evade bees for the younger portion of my life. Most of my friends weren't as lucky. But nowadays bees just don't exist anymore. Almost unsure if they even existed in the first place. If my calculations are correct, we don't have to fear getting stung by these fictitious creatures until our asshole kids start being idiots.

PS. Takes a lot of guts for a man to post a picture of his finger. I've posted plenty of pictures of my face, but it took the most courage I have ever had to muster to put my finger up. Too wrinkly? Crusty? I don't know and please don't tell me.

Thursday, December 6, 2012

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A question that has plagued me since the day my mother freaked out on me about "leaving the seat up" when I was little. From the moment I replied "But why?" and received "Because I said so" "Because it's considerate" as a response, it has been a life quest of mine to find real answers. I've been skewered for leaving seats up in female dorm rooms for years and never once heard a legitimate reason why. My only real hypothesis is that ladies fall in the toilet if the seat is up, but I'm giving you guys a chance to explain otherwise. Here are the questions that I have had and my logical response:

As 5 year old Dub Jeezy asked, "But why" is it considerate?

-As a woman in 2012, why do you guys need assistance dealing with toilet bowl related matters. Yes, touching the seat is gross, but we have to do it too. It's not a big deal if you have soap at the sink. Nothing on the toilet will give you gangrene. If it's up, you literally just have to put it down and go about your business. Takes like .09 seconds and it's not particularly heavy. There are things that can be called "chivalrous" and this is not one of them. Beyonce didn't write sing "Independent Women" for this.

A) Is the toilet seat itself really that gross? Or..
B) The sight of what's on the lip of the toilet that disgusting?

-It has to be one of these two things right? I've heard the "guys pee everywhere" argument and I get that. Guys for the most part, are disgusting. But even the grossest, most inaccurate guy (that lifts up the seat before urinating) gets it on the lip of the toilet and not the seat thus creating an effective barrier from your hammies and glutes. I've also heard the more far-fetched, but plausible "pubes on the lip of the toilet" argument. Admittedly, that's nasty, but ultimately it's your own fault for associating yourself with someone that sheds pubic hair and/or doesn't manscape correctly. It's a micro issue getting blown out to a macro level.

PS. All bets are off for the guy that doesn't lift the seat before peeing. He's crazy, call the cops.

Do you fall into the toilet if the seat is up?

-The most important question and the overall purpose of this post. Are girls actually falling into toilets out there? I've heard a consensus "yes" that this happens as well as a resounding "no." You know what they say, "where there's smoke, there's fire." Look, I get that you guys never have to look at the seat before going, but give some respect to the infrastructure. Take a glance at it. Make sure a fucking tarantula isn't chillin' on the seat. Honestly, if I have a daughter, I'm telling her a made up story about how a girl didn't look at the toilet before sitting down and she didn't see the 12 pounds of C4 on it and exploded. #ProudFather

I love you guys, but this is WITHOUT A DOUBT the most absurd female social trait that exists. Watch the toilet, you guys.

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

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God dammit, internet. You can't go a day without dropping something ridiculous on all of our retinas, huh? None of you understand what life is like for the 6,703rd ranked internet blogger on the planet. It's not all "pray an awesome Youtube video popped up today" or "check every news website for a stupid story." No rainbows and gumdrops here. Sometimes you see an absurd, yet semi-accurate picture of the original Super Mario Brothers and it's relatability to how relationships develop and you have no choice but to post it.

Well shit, whoever just dropped the proverbial Microsoft Paint mic just spoke the realest stuff ever. Alcohol is the Stockton to every relationship's Malone. Alcohol finds the crease (inhibitions) in the defense (the guy/girl) and allows you to get to the basket (making out or whatever you new-age hoodrats do these days). You'll be hard-pressed to find a relationship out there that was not assisted by alcohol. It doesn't have to be "take someone home" level, but it definitely breaks the ice for both parties and lets them breathe a little bit. Hell, I think I talked about Harry Potter, Pokemon and my ability to burp professionally on my last first date. If neither party had a drink that night, I would have been left at the restaurant and not with that person now because Pikachu, Horcruxes and oral flatulence ain't fly. So I guess, thanks, alcohol? And bigger...thanks, Microsoft Paint oracle?

Most of us wouldn't be where we are in our relationships/even exist without alcohol. Let's not even sugar coat it.

Monday, December 3, 2012

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There are ways to hang out with dolphins:

And ways not to hang out with dolphins:

They're slippery, fun-loving creatures that are strictly down to play and and jump over shit. That's it. They literally have no qualms about anything as long as they eat roughly 300 tiny fish daily and have a beach ball to play with. This girl fucked with one of those things. If you're not popping beach balls or tampering with one of the 300 tiny fish, you're 100% in the clear. Jillian messed up and got dealt with. It's how the world works. You cross the line, you get checked. Just dance the Merengue with it and allow a professional photographer to take like 75 pictures of you so your girlfriend can post them on Facebook and your friends can make fun of you for it like the rest of us.

Friday, November 30, 2012

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First thought was, "LOLWUT?" and that was quickly followed by a second thought of, "Oh yeah, duh."

Now it's official, I'm officially crazy by psychological standards. One of my co-workers decided to pass around this test to everyone during the tail end of a Friday and let's just say I lied about my score because apparently I'm crazy.

Let's break down my list:

Authority: No lie, I thought the world LITERALLY revolved around me until I was like 12.

Self-Sufficiency: If any of my clothes get kinda-a-little stained, I just throw them away.

Superiority: There was a period of time when I refused to play basketball unless I was the point guard.

Exhibitionism: Sick bod? Check.

Exploitativeness: The red squiggly is telling me this isn't a word, so I'm going to assume this doesn't exist.

Vanity: I've written my own blog about myself for over 3 years.

Entitlement: No. I just expect everyone to read all of my blogs immediately after I post them.

If you want to take out this super wack, non-descript test, be my guest. It's not accurate at all and proves nothing.

Thursday, November 29, 2012

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Straight up fantastic. Nothing else to say about this other than the fact that he definitely has a voodoo doll of Seth MacFarlane in his bedroom. I also laughed out loud during the Cleveland part. Haven't laughed at a Youtube video since like '09.

His Joe was pretty mehh, I'll say it.

Wednesday, November 28, 2012

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This is a preposterous thing to say, I know. But shit, can I brotha have a chance? With the numbers I have, all this ends up being is a transaction where I give a young man of Indian descent two dollars for nothing in return. Just me giving a guy two dollars for no reason. Maybe he's a friendly dude, but not worthy of a random 200 cents.

With that said, I'm not enthused about the drawing tonight. It's much ado about nothing when you're given numbers that don't allow you to succeed or flourish. I'm just a dude with essentially a blank sheet of looseleaf paper trying to participate in the "See you guys tomorrow...maybe!" office jokes and Twitter/Facebook banter. Good luck to everyone else tonight, I'll be on the sidelines clapping with tears held back.

PS. If I win, this will be the first, second, third...five thousandth thing I will do:
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I know there are some real nerds working at the Creepbook, but this is ridiculous. If it wasn't before, it's abundantly clear to me that most of the FB IT department is full of socially inept brainiacs and dudes that used to receive daily swirlies. I get that. What I don't get is how, in the year 2012, it's possible to mistake a set of breasts for elbows. Shit like this should get you exiled and all the testosterone sucked out of your body immediately. Boobs are awesome, elbows aren't. I don't see how such an egregious error could have possibly been made.

On a sidenote, who took this picture? As much as we shit on the in-front-of-the-mirror-duck-face pic, there hasn't been much backlash on the person-that-takes-pictures-of-someone-else-in-awkward-scenarios person. Those people are the highest grade of lunatic.

Begs the question of who is worse? The chick asking, "Can you take a picture of me while I'm in the bath tub, please?" or the person responding with, "Sure. That's completely fine with me."

Basically the "Why did the chicken cross the road?" of 2012. Mayan apocalypse is 100% on.

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

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I already know the answers to the questions you're going to ask.

"Is this dumb?"
-Clearly, this man is outside of his mind.

"Is this the cockiest guy ever to live?"
-If not, he's easily top five.

"But how does he get the mail?"
-You don't need mail when you live in a 5 story mega-mansion in the middle of the highway.

Outrageous/Hilarious story, picture, and video. This guy just defines the male species perfectly. Impossibly stubborn, on a constant quest to have a dick swinging contest and most of all, refusing to move out of his weird mega-mansion when the government tries to build a highway through his house. The Y-chromosome is truly flourishing with this guy. Dude straight up has nowhere to go at any given point in time, zero way to provide for his family, and he has to look both ways whenever he opens the door.

Never gave up that deed, though.

Tuesday, November 20, 2012

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So douchey, so socially unaware AND one of them wears sunglasses indoors?! By God, we may have struck gold, everybody. Never before have two flagrant douchbags been captured on such a stage with such a perfect reaction. He even took off his glasses for a Dwight Howard dunk! Spectacular.

First things first, that half in-awe - half confused look on the guy on the left's face is something only a true megatron bro can master. You know he shreds something, whether it be a guitar, a skateboard, a surf board or various blond girls and he undoubtedly is apathetic about everything except those things and Dwight Howard. I also love the cronie. Only a true goon/henchman can capture the "I'm going to copy exactly what he's doing in drastically less cool fashion" move like this kid can. Impressive duo, I hope they end up on The Today Show or some shit. It'd truly be a treat to see their views on the world.

Big promotion:

Your Wedding Day:

Birth of your first child:

You wrote a sick blog:

Monday, November 19, 2012

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You ever text someone and have them immediately call you seconds after you pressed "send"? This instantly prompts a:"Why didn't you just respond to my text?" question with the inevitable, "Sorry, I'm just a bad texter" answer. I'm no expert, but I'm pretty sure that's the worst thing that can happen in the world. I know there is socioeconomic plight, the fear of war, and the Mayan apocalypse, but this fits right in there.

It's 2012, this is officially the year where it's straight up dickish to call yourself a "bad" texter. Before we dive in, a bad texter is a person that:

-Calls immediately after you text them
-Has a baseline knowledge of T9 and almost no understanding of QWERTY/Auto-correct
-Gets upset when they receive texts
-Somehow still gets charged per-text
-Repeatedly MisEHPelsl words in an effort to frustrate you into not texting them

I bet one of these assholes still uses a polyphonic ringtone too. I can almost imagine how it was back in the olden times.

"Why are you still scraping a rock on that slate? We have scrolls now, bro."

"Ya know, I'm don't really get scrolls, or pens for that matter. I've been using this rock and this other rock for a long time and it has served me well."

The dude that used the scroll probably got hung or castrated because that's what they did to unreasonable people back then. Now we have a select few heroes people that write whiny blogs about them and complain until something gets done. Don't let the world pass you by, guys.

Sunday, November 18, 2012

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That's basically all there is to say to start things off. There is some real ugly, nasty stuff going on here and I'm not even going to try to make sense of anything. Let's discuss:

1) Dude in Green turtleneck/scarf combo on the left is all the way turn't up for the atrocities that are occurring.

2) The combination of standing on a ledge and looking the way she does means the singer is either Christina Aguilera or Nicki Minaj. No one wins.

3) The guy on the right didn't attend the choreography rehearsals and is stuck on punch-mode.

4) I'm pretty sure the words in the back are completely random and that there is a 75% chance of it all being Microsoft WordArt.

5) I have nothing to say about the boob-heaving, seizure-having, split-performing thing that took up most of the screen.

UPDATE: Just watched the last 5 minutes of the AMAs and saw Psy performing with MC Hammer to close out the show. In other news, music took itself out to the shed and shot itself.

Thursday, November 15, 2012

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Very serious question: Can Johnny Depp ever play a regular guy? Like, he always has to be some wacky character that at some point or another, gets drugged out. Walking around with hedge clippers attached to his hands, funny hats, and weird accents all God damn day. Can we get a role where you are a functioning human person with real problems in real situations, or is that too much? It's also very safe to assume John has no idea who he is anymore. Must be a terror to deal with if he's your father. Jumping from Willy Wonka to that sad sap from "Blow" when you just need him to pass the syrup.

As a sidenote, do you think he responds to "John" or "Jonathan"? No, right? It has to be assumed that when you intersplice your identity into different creatures/aliens/psychopaths, you probably don't respond to the name on your birth certificate.
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This is becoming a legitimate problem for me. No matter how hard I try, I always sound like somebody you'd want beat up whenever I talk to Siri. Even if I'm just trying to tell that bitch to wake me up in 20 minutes, it has to be in the most proper, borderline high-pitched tone I can muster. I just put some food in the oven and literally cleared my throat like 9 times before setting the alarm and still ended up sounding like Elmo an alleged pedophile puppet.

And you know Siri's judging, wondering if I can use some sort of cheat code to add more base to my voice.

Also, can't be happy when pictures like this surface shortly after you're about to publish the post:

Wednesday, November 14, 2012

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Probably going to start spending my Saturdays at Home Depot and start going to bed before "The Tonight Show" comes on with the rate I'm going.

A little context behind my initial tweet. As soon as I turned 25, the clock to "when Dub is going to eventually die" officially started to tick. My knees hurt whenever I just consider playing a sport, if I stay up ONE minute past midnight I start to become instantly sick and I'm starting to figure out what a "savings account" actually means. All startling things. The most startling thing has to be what happens to my body whenever I eat food. At first I thought it was when I ate shitily, you know, things like burgers, subs, pizzas, etc. So I tried to eat healhy and the same result occurred. I don't want to dive into what happened, but in summary it's basically everything that the TUMS bottle says it'll cure.

So as a dude that's entirely too comfortable in his own skin and with a slight God complex, I decided to tweet to the masses about my new affliction. Ya know, maybe snag a retweet here and a Twitter HJ (aka "Favorite") there. All was well and good until I woke up today and saw the most startling, life-affirming tweet of all time. The fucking verified TUMS twitter account tweeted me and not only did they tweet me, they made fun of me. Droppin' wink faces and hypothetical past lives on me like it was nobody's business. Almost made me start crying and shit. Well, jokes on you TUMS because the Smoothie flavor tastes like disgusting and a Smartie had a terrible, terrible baby.

This is an open, childish ultimatum for TUMS. Unless you plan on sponsoring A Working Man's Diary, stop being so mean, guys. C'mon.

Tuesday, November 13, 2012

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Just a perfect video for anyone who thought they had a rough day. By all accounts, I had a pretty shitty day. Piles of work, Mom on my back and my god damn foot hurts. And then you see a video of a hilariously determined, hammered Asian gentleman struggling to defy physics and everything automatically becomes better.

Hate the lady that's all, "You're going to get hurt!" Back off, bitch, let my man keep chugging along. It was your fault for not taking the stairs when you see something like that brewing. Just be like every other bystander and keep it moving. Maybe tell your friends a racially insensitive Psy joke, I don't know.

T-Minus 30 seconds before I'm dead if I ever attempted this slightly buzzed. Like 1.5 Mike's Hard Lemonade buzzed. Reverse escalators are just tough to deal with.

Monday, November 12, 2012

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This has to be it for the KKK, right? I mean it's at that point where their klan rallies are getting rolled on by a bunch of floppy, red-shoed, potential pedophiles. The pure definition of rock bottom.

I wonder what the mindset is for someone who is just PUMPED to join the klan. At this point you can't hate non-whites that much. Too many sports stars, entertainers, and prominent public figures are minority that you're bound to accidentally be a fan of one. In fact, I bet there are thousands of racist whites that have no idea that Blake Griffin is half-black. Probably throwing out emails to the Grand Dragon wizard with "White Men Can Jump! Fuck Those *******" in the subject line and attaching a Blake highlight video off Youtube. There have to be tons of Clayton Bigsbys out there ingesting cyanide pills and burning their Austin Rivers rookie cards.

Clowns will never make sense to me. Always 100% terrifying and had no real gimmick. Water gun flower, nose honker, infinite colorful cloth under their sleeve, big shoes, and a whoopie cushion. Shit sucked.

PS. Does this technically mean that A Working Man's Diary is attacking the KKK with humor too?
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Some people call it petty larceny, but I call it a way of life. The way I see it, I'm just doing my part to continue the time honored American tradition of thwarting Monopolies. Because if you say you have seen this hot sauce anywhere but inside of a Chipotle, you're a liar and disgust me.

True fact: I have never stolen anything in my life until I stole my first Smoked Tabasco Hot Sauce from Chipotle. It just never seemed worth it to me - not until now. That shit is so good it's petty larceny. The combination of being flavorful, not oppressively hot and versatile just can't be beaten. It's good on: burritos, any meat/seafood, pizza, rice, noodles, bread, cheese, probably Pop Tarts and most definitely eggs. It basically tastes like your favorite team winning the Super Bowl in your mouth.

With that said, you're a pansy, merit badge holding, certified bitch if you don't at least consider stealing it every time you're at Chipotle. Take off life's training wheels and live a little. If you're scared to do it, here's how:

1) Take a shit load of napkins so the "grab" motion everyone sees seems natural.

2) Throw all sorts of things in your bag and look a little confused like you're just grabbing forks, spoons and straws for the hell of it.

3) Slyly (and I stress SLYLY) grab the Smoked Tabasco Flavored hot sauce. If you accidentally grab another flavor, may God help your soul.

4) Wink at the other person attempting to steal too and give them a mental air dap.

5) Walk out of Chipotle. You won...until next time.

PS. This all applies to Baja Mountain Dew, but with less enthusiasm and slightly more confused disgust.

Friday, November 9, 2012

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You're so right, Nicole. It IS Thanksgiving and I think people were starting to forget about it.

So informative (thanks for listing the holidays!) and so timely (Thanksgiving is almost here). I can't write a better recipe for a better song. But bitch, I can write a better recipe for stuffing. I mean what the FUCK were you putting in there? Peas and Cap'n Crunch. That was embarrassing and ruined the entire song for me. And you're not fooling anyone with that cornish hen in the oven. Clean it up and re-release this track. You have the requisite amount of "Oh, oh, oh"s, but almost zero holiday related accuracy.

You did pull me back in when you used that cornish hen drumstick as a microphone though. Clever stuff.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

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I feel you, Kobe. I've been giving that same befuddled, aggressive look to everyone that walks by and says it's a day other than Friday. My body clock thinks today is Sunday, when in reality it's Thursday 2. Thursday 1 was actually Wednesday when I would have bet a kidney that it was Thursday. All confusing stuff.

I've never been more cataclysmically screwed over by day light savings than I have been this year. Might fuck around and miss Thanksgiving.

What day do you think it ACTUALLY is? Sound off in the comments you never sound off in.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

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I usually stay out of the political scene until a winner is decided because people are absolute idiots during election season. Making 2 paragraph long statuses of shit they copied and pasted from CNN, saying things like "learn the facts before you talk" and all sorts of stupidness. The dumbest people somehow have a stage and it's awful. Well, Obama won. I was happy with that, but I'm more happy in the country prospering. Let's back the dude because we're going to be in this spot until 2016. Now it's time for the funny:

1) Diane Sawyer was Blackout drunk:

-Hell, I can't blame her. You were a fool if you didn't once consider having a drink last night. Wolf was stressing me out with the "Breaking Updates" and the video screen was an utter mistake after the first 10 minutes.

2) LOL, White People:

-Clearly all black people look EXACTLY the same. We're pretty much all the same interchangeable rapper, basketball/football player/track runner, hoodlum with similar personalities. Get with the program, brah.

3) The Romneys goin' IN on some chocolate milk:
I always wondered what my life would be like if I never drank alcohol, got wild or wrote a blog. I'd probably be exactly like Mitt. Aside from being a robot, dude is Scrooge McDuck rich, Ann can get it, and he somehow figured out the magic secret to only have male children. Plus, I kinda liked his "I give up" speech last night. Classy.

4) Couple Asian dudes dancing horrifically bad:

They killed it. That's all I have to say about this.

5) "Otis" the semi-remix:

If I can buy stock in a person, I'd buy 1 gillion shares of Young Jeezy. Going to skyrocket for the next 4 days, then I'm selling the shit out of those things.