Tuesday, July 31, 2012

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Things they're waving bye to:

-their freedom

-the "grid"





Monday, July 30, 2012

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Tipping is a delicate operation. You want to be reasonable, tip as much or more than everyone you're with and have the ability to drop the hammer if you get shitty service.

Lots of people are afraid that they'll seem cheap if they don't tip their waiter the young-professional-subscribed 19-22%, but if someone doesn't bring out my chocolate milk in a reasonable amount of time and/or ignores me for minutes on end, they'll know about it via a wack tip. It builds character. Or I'm a dick. I don't really care either way. I just know for a fact that I would never leave motherfuckin' "Pi" as a tip in any scenario.

I know a bunch of dweebs will see this picture and have a nerdgasm, but real talk, you can't show this to your boss and receive Pi as payment. Dude will just be like, "He wrote a squiggly line and somehow ended up with $20. No tip." That's just cold-blooded as hell. While I do completely believe in the ol' make-your-total-add-up-to-a-whole-number move, this just wasn't right. This is borderline fight worthy.

Am I the only one that likes a nice whole number to look at on Sunday when I check my bank account? No matter how shitfaced I am, my multiple bar tabs always look clean as hell. Zeroes, no change, and a complete lack of recognition of what I paid for.

Don't be a nerd and pay $3.14 like a regular person.
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So cute I just cried and threw up.

PS. No I won't make a "Ted" joke.

PPS. Not even trying to be crass or offensive, but this baby sloth might be mentally handicapped. Teddy Bear looks nothing like you, bro.

Friday, July 27, 2012

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I truly cannot imagine a more disconnected group of people coming up with images for the entire world to see than this Olympic committee. Screw ups left and right.

Wish I was a fly on the wall for the roundtable discussion:

Idiot 1: "We took a lot of flack from our Olympic logo. I mean, for crying out loud, people thought it looked like one Simpson's character performing fellatio on another."

Idiot 2: "Well, it kinda did and still does. Nothing we can do about that other than knock the mascots out of the park"

Idiot 3: "Traffic cones."

Idiot 2: "What the fuck did you just say? That's genius."

Idiot 1: "I love that idea, but what do they have to do with London, or the Olympics?"


Idiot 3 starts crying

Idiot 2: "Maybe we can use something related to beer since the entire world likes beer."

Idiot 1: "I once opened a beer bottle with one of those...ummm...can't think of it...

Idiot 3: "A bottle opener?"

Idiot 1: "Yes, yes!! That's it"

Idiot 2: "Bottle openers will be the Olympic mascot and people will forget about that potentially pornographic cartoon image!"

Idiot 3: "WAIT!"

Idiot 1 and 2: "What?" "What?"

Idiot 3: "They need to be cyclopses"

::Cheering and dancing ensues::

That had to be it. I can picture three low IQ'd assclowns just lobbing terrible ideas to each other until all partires get tired and they go out and get drunk.

And that's how you end up with bottle cap opening cyclopses as you mascots for the Olympic games.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

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^Twitter really kept itself together during the outage, huh?

Everyone will remember where they were when the two procrastination giants, Twitter and Gchat went down today. Sitting at our fucking desks, crunching fucking numbers, that's where.

Today made me realize how dependent I am on bothering all of my friends and telling 140 character jokes. Just sitting at my desk itching like a crack addict refreshing my browser. A significant part of my work day is not working, so this put a severe cramp in my style.

I took it all for granted. Hearing that familiar Gchat sound alert, checking what Justin Timberlake and random pornstars are up to, and purposely chatting people with the "I'm busy" red dot because you know they aren't busy. Nothing like it. You think I'm going to go on Facebook? Pfft, shit was like the Superdome after Katrina. A bunch of displaced souls looking for shelter until they can get their life back together.

I hope at least 40,000 people lost their jobs/lives because of this.

Wednesday, July 25, 2012

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So I was thinking about my career food intake today and came to some pretty stunning realizations.

My life can basically be broken down into 3 sections of eating habits:

1) The Golden Age/The Dark Patch: Age 0-13

It can be both depending on how you look at it. Golden from a health standpoint and dark because I had to eat gross ass peas and shit. A parent cooked you a balanced meal and you had to eat it or dominate the "stealthily spitting into a napkin" game.

2) The Metabolism Abusing Years: Age 14-21

Straight racks on racks of burgers, fries, subs, wings, and laughing in fat kids faces behind their back. Basically a bodily equivalent of Wall Street in the '80s. Just eating what I wanted whenever I wanted without worrying about any type of repercussions.

3) I Have To Change My Life: Age 22-Present

If the metabolism abusing years were Wall Street in the 80s, right now is the financial collapse of 2008. My entire world is spinning upside down. My metabolism is still working on all cylinders, but I CANNOT eat what I want anymore. All of a sudden I'm lactose (blacktose) intolerant, get sick when I eat too fast, and get the itis almost instantly. And my left knee fucking hurts all the time. It's officially time to try whatever you hippies do and "watch what I eat."

Step one was realizing my past and realizing what is killing my man, Homeostasis. On the outside things are awesome, but there is a war going on inside my stomach on a daily basis. What it boiled down to was determining how many chicken wings and double cheeseburgers I've eaten in my lifetime.

The estimated, borderline lazy math was startling....

I think I've eaten roughly 1 million chicken wings and over 100,000 double cheeseburgers since 1987. That's fucking disgusting. Then it made me think, how many wings=a burger? You can't really quantify a wing and just eat until you're full, but what if 20 wings is equivalent to like 3.5 double cheeseburgers? No one knows and that's scary. If you're a degenerate like me, think about that fake statistic I just made up and rethink your lifestyle.

This is the illest PSA of all time.
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Great googly moogly, what the fuck is that thing? It's like a Chupacabra and a Gremlin had a baby, the baby saw itself in the mirror, drowned itself and washed up on shore.

Tough week for my home city. First a ban on large sodas and mutated monster rat devil creatures washing up on shore when you're just trying to go for a jog in the morning. Nothing will knock the cool out of your step faster than tripping over this thing during a romantic walk along the beach.

"Hey man, how'd that date with the girl go last night?"

"Umm, well, evertyhing was great up until we tripped over this giant pig rat with a protruding tooth and structurally unstable limbs. Dinner was awesome though.

Things I've seen on the street during the last month:

-Dead Rats/Cats/Birds/Unknowns
-So many condoms
-Hologram Pokemon Cards
-"Apples to Apples" box with a Swastika drawn on it
-A family portrait with three faces "X"d out

All that combined doesn't come CLOSE to this thing. BLOOMBERGGGGGGG

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

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Welp, guess America might as well throw in the towel. China should just come over and lay a big fat dump on all of our faces because if I can't get 48 fluid ounces of high fructose corn syrup, Yellow #5 and excess carbonation at my leisure, we've lost.

Sure, it makes more sense to order a small soda if there are free refills, but where's the pageantry? I'm trying to flaunt my future diabetes in front of everyone like the Constitution intended. We can't have our "Small" become "Large" and our "Large" become buckets. I won't have it. I want the option to involuntarily live the "Super Size Me" lifestyle Friday-Sunday.

I want to be proud to live in a country where these exist:

And this couple:

And this cat:

And this remote control cooler:

I'm too tired to keep typing because I'm American and proud to say that I got tired writing a blog. Allow me keep that right, Bloomberg.
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As long as he didn't once talk in the Batman voice, this is a damn good gesture.
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I may the most susceptible dude in the world in the money scamming game. Just an ill combo of very-gullible and having a memorized knowledge of my social security number/credit card number.

Why wouldn't I pay you if you told me my uncle that I don't have is trapped in a Nigerian prison? Seems completely reasonable that I would send you $2000 American dollars for bail even though Nigerian exchange rates may not allow such a transaction to go through.

Now we have death texts. Here are my issues with the example above:

1) "Sum1": You'd think that someone would want to be concise and articulate in a text message about killing a person and gravely needing $5000. I guess T9 word just isn't fast enough sumtymz.

2) Autocorrect: Your fat-ass thumbs can easily turn "kill" into "lick" and things can get unintentionally sexual real quick.

3) The audacity: Stop it. Just cut the god damn mularkey. Ask me for like a trillion dollars, say you have my dog, tell me you're in my house, something, man. If you come with a weak ass death text you can assure you're getting your ass deleted.

Including an ellipsis in your death text might be the softest thing anyone can do.

Monday, July 23, 2012

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China? 18 dudes? A sex doll? A province called ShanDONG? None of it adds up. This might be the most depressingly hilarious conspiracy theory of all time.

We've all gotten weird, right? Sometimes you go to a strip club, spend a lot of money and have some unspeakable things done to you. Other times, you round up the 43rd precinct, have a sex party with a manikin-headed, deflated balloon, draw too much attention, toss the boob-weighted balloon into the river and all simultaneously dive after it. Run of the mill search and rescue mission.


1) What did the other 17 cops do while the one guy "rescued" the doll?

2) Love that they presented the sex doll to the crowd and many small children had their days/lives ruined by that moment.

3) If there isn't a 7'8 Chinese basketball player in the NBA with the name "ShanDONG" within the next 20 years, I'll quit watching the sport.

Friday, July 20, 2012

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WMD is a lot of things. Hilarious, adorable, tasteless, occasionally not funny, but most of all, this shit is helpful. I'm basically an amateur social psychologist. Here's are methods on dealing with the shittiest Starburst bag of all time:

-Call the "How are we doing?" hotline on the back of the bag and leave a colorful voicemail

-Reason with yourself that eating 38 lemon flavored Starburst isn't that bad.

-Eat the pink and red flavors too fast and get so sad that you start crying a little bit

-Instagram it and settle for nothing less than 58 likes.

-Wherever you are. Just go home. Your day is a wrap.

-Tell a bunch of people about it that a) won't believe you and b) won't give a shit

-Write a hilarious blog about it

If you're pumped about this scenario, you need to reassess yourself and the life that you live. Lemon flavor anything that doesn't end in "-ade" is the worst. I remember crying because I lost a bet and had to eat 5 lemon Warheads at once. That may be because I was a bitch, but it's a fate I wouldn't wish on no man.

Sour face is NOT a good look

-skinny version of the fat kid from "Bad Santa"?!

-eh, this dude's just ugly

Thursday, July 19, 2012

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The realest question I have ever fielded and it wasn't even a legitimate question. Quick tangent: I have never understood the entire "What's good" phenomenon because there really are a lot of things that are good out here. Ice cream, days off from work, scoring the high score in a pinball game are some examples, but I have NO idea where to even begin with a platypus.

First off, why the fuck is their name spelled like that? The old "y" that sounds like an "a" trick hasn't been used since ever and you guys are built so incorrectly. Half gopher, half duck, and poisonous? It's as if God stuck his hand in a bag, picked 4 random ass attributes and came up with the platypus. Probably was like, "Whoa. I really screwed this thing up. ::Looks behind his back and backs away slowly::"

Platypus Highlights via Wikipedia:

-They lay fucking eggs
-They growl
-It can kinda swim, but not really
-People straight up didn't believe it existed
-It has been deemed "the most poorly understood animal in history"

Well, shit. Wikipedia doesn't even know what's up. Regardless, I'm terrified. These growling, inefficient monsters need to be eradicated stat. Nothing will knock the cool out of your step like getting stabbed by a poisonous platypus ankle spur.
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This is probably Ray J's finest moment since "Wait A Minute" climbed to number 8 on TRL. Just a meatball down the middle that he crushed 500 feet out of the park.

Real talk, 'Ye is probably going to call up Jay, who is probably going to call up Prokorov and Ray J will most assuredly "end up" in an ice chest in Russia. But this was a helluva a way to go out. Basically laughing in Kim's rich ass face while you chill in your two-bedroom condo eating some Chicken Of The Sea out of the can. You have to pick your battles and Ray did it well.

PS. I'd be astounded if Ray J doesn't watch that tape at least 4 times a day. Shed a tear to himself, consider masturbating, cry some more, and goes to sleep.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

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For some ungodly reason my roommates were deep into "Blank Check" on-demand when I got back from work. Naturally I complained hard for 2 seconds and ended up getting roped in for the last 32 minutes of the movie.

Patch together some awful acting, a BUSTED plot line focused around a kid spending $1 million dollars on RCA TVs, lollipops, and Sony Walk-mans and you have Blank Check. Terrible film, but that's not the point here. The point is the kiss you see in that picture. It was that typical movie moment where the woman is supposed to give the boy that has a crush on her a kiss on the cheek. Nope. Blank Check gives zero fucks about societal norms and statutory law. They really had her lick her lips, size him up with seductive eyes and give him a passionate ass kiss. Everyone in the living room started screaming, then I demanded that we rewind and pause it on the scene so I can take a very tasteless picture and complain about a movie that came out in 1994.

In 20(Sandusky)12, this movie would not have been acceptable. That image=
10-15 years in the pen, a blip on FamilyWatch.org and a "Today Show" interview with Matt Lauer.

PS. You only wrote $1 Million on a blank check, bro? I can spend a mil in a bad 45 minute stretch on the Vegas Strip. You didn't even make it rain once either. Despicable.
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8:00am: Checked my email on the train and saw "@BCAlumni is now following you!"

8:22am: Checked my Twitter and @BCAlumni stopped following me.

8:27am: Sent out a VERY passive-aggressive tweet describing the situation

8:35am: Typed an apology tweet, didn't send it, and let it cook for the rest of eternity in my drafts.

5:48pm: Checked my email and saw "BCAlumni is now following you!"

And that's where we are now. The piss poorest cat and mouse game that has ever been played between two accounts that don't represent a real person has finally ended. My former school deliberated for what seemed to be 8 hours and determined I was fit to follow on Twitter.

Maybe it was this gem that got them to finally follow me:

It was definitely this "try too hard to be funny" tweet that made them unfollow me:

But then they probably came back because of this wildly offensive, definitely hilarious tweet:

Proud to be an Eagle! Thanks for the follow you flaky assholes.

Tuesday, July 17, 2012

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Here it is folks, the two most dominant talent pools of my generation.

In one corner we have the '93 Mouseketeers featuring: Justin Timberlake, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera, Ryan Gosling, a few no names, potentially Bobby Brown (and not Jessica Simpson because she got served by Christina in auditions).

In the opposite corner we have the '03 NBA Draft Class featuring: LeBron James, Dwyane Wade, The Ostrich, Carmelo Anthony, consummate white guy professionals and some serious riff-raff rounding out the picture.

I'll do the most logical competitions and see who wins out:

Justin Timberlake vs. LeBron James
-Both ridiculously hyped, once in a generation talents. Both own championships, both have made questionable DECISIONS and both have been scrutinized for those decisions. Why does LBJ pass up open game-winning shots? Why hasn't Timberlake put out an album in years? Friends with Benefits fucking sucked.
-LeBron wins.

Britney Spears vs. Dwyane Wade
-Britney put me through puberty and Wade made me change my Facebook profile picture to him during the 2006 Finals. The only other non-me picture used on Facebook was a Madden 08 rendition of Brett Favre. That was a dark patch for me. Put puberty against a brief sports obsession in a fight and puberty always wins.
-Britney wins

Chris "The Lord of All Raptors" Bosh vs. Ryan Gosling
-If this was a competition to see who can hoard the most raptor eggs in the quickest amount of time, this would be an easy Bosh victory, but it's not. Gosling is on fire right now and tops on the "dudes our girlfriends definitely want to bang and will if they have the chance" list. Chris Bosh will get his time when the global warming sets in and only the cold blooded creatures survive.
-Gosling wins

Carmelo Anthony vs. Christina Aguilera
-The two people in their respective groups that never reached their potential. Carmelo has all the offensive ability in the world and could never fully put it together. He will forever be a top-10 player in the NBA, but will never crack the top-5. Christina had pipes that could rival the greats, was absolutely gorgeous and seemed to have a good head on her shoulders. Then "Dirty" came out-we got our rocks off and everyone lost respect for her. Then she became morbidly obese and must-mute TV during "The Voice."

The randoms from each crew
-Fake Bobby Brown, dude that's trying too hard on the left, and the potentially fine unknown chick in the middle vs. role player city. Based on the sheer fact that (I think) all of these guys are still in the league and the dude on the left in the MMC might have served me a sandwich this afternoon the victory has to go to...
-'03 NBA

As much as I'd like to have both of these groups win, the '93 MMC took the crown here in a photo finish. No greater batch of raw talent and moldable personalities. This can all change next year, but as of now, Gosling is the guy and Timberlake WILL come out with an album soon. I can taste it.

Never forget: Dwyane Wade dressed as Justin Timberlake for Halloween

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^look alive, bro, those potholes aren't going to fix themselves.

Someone showed me this story and asked, "Would you rather this cat run your city or a 10 year old playing Sim City 2000?" First off this is the worst question I have ever fielded, but just in case someone is an idiot, you have to go with the cat mayor. While he will do absolutely nothing and probably be an insufferable asshole to every citizen, he won't cause natural disasters and the infamous "monster" to be released along the coast.

Sure this cat looks bombed out and depleted and is coincidentally half-awake next to a six-pack of Alaskan ESB which can't NOT be the worst alcoholic beverage on the planet, but it's small town Alaska. If you fuck up there, will anyone notice? There can still be slavery and/or BP oil can flood the entire town and I'd most likely be like, "meh, that drunk ass cat did all he could do."

PS. "Mayor Jeezy, a monster has appeared along the coastline and is walking towards the nuclear power plant" was the the biggest "fuck you" in computer game history.

Wednesday, July 11, 2012

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Everywhere I turn, people are getting paid tens of thousands of dollars for no fucking reason. Blah blah, "My band needs money for studio time", "These kids made fun of me on the bus", "I have a cool app that needs marketing dollars." Well, I feel like I deserve to be paid a nice lump sum for all the consistent hate, kitten videos, and funny pictures I spew out.

What will I do with the money? Not sure yet, but I can say with certainty that I will NOT use any of it to improve the website or make the viewing experience better for any of you.

Here's what you want to hear:

-I'll pay new writers so the blog doesn't go unattended for days on end
-Improve the layout so it's more user-friendly and interactive
-Create a store with fun, inexpensive merchandise
-Throw WMD parties that require no cover and drink specials
-Help the community

Here's what I'll actually do:

-Crab rangoons
-Go HAM at Saks Fifth Avenue
-Bottle service
-Delete Working Man's Diary and never discuss it again
-Find and buy a SEGA Dreamcast
-Buy a minority stake in a WNBA franchise for $265

So..um..yeah, click here to donate. Thanks guys! Your money will help me realize my dream!

Tuesday, July 10, 2012

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Hey NBA, what the fuck happened? What happened to getting paid a bajillion dollars and competing every night for the jersey on your back? What happened to having an enemy, a rival even? What happened to basketball?

Not to date myself, but I got into the NBA when the stars were hungry and wanted to win more than ANYTHING in the world. Basketball was their life and winning was literally everything. Now it's at the point where the NBA offseason is theater in itself. There are plots of deception, betrayal, glee, and confusion. Just get your money, compete and maintain a semblance of loyalty to the people that pay their hard earned money to watch you play every night. Don't fucking mail it in because you don't feel like playing anymore.

Here are my gripes:

1) Dwight Howard:
You're like a dumb hot chick that is leading a nice and genuine dude on longer than he deserves. Your entire life you've been handed everything and don't know what to do when you have to make a difficult decision. Ruin a season, destroy Sportscenter, pout on camera while dunking the ball, lie in press conferences, sign a new contract, "get injured", get the entire front office fired, YOUR BABY MAMA IS STILL ON "BASKETBALL WIVES", and demand a trade to 12 different NBA franchises. Patrick, David, Hakeem and Shaquille wouldn't have done what you're doing.

2) The New York Knicks:
I almost started crying when they resigned JR Smith. That's like me going to back to the same restaurant that gave me food poisoning 10 times in a row. Strangely enough, that's not even the worst thing that's happened to the team. The point guards on the roster are BARON DAVIS, MIKE BIBBY, JASON KIDD, AND JEREMY LIN. Baron doesn't have one of his kneecaps, Bibby's zombified body hasn't had fully functioning red blood cells since '07, Jason Kidd's son looks like this , and Jeremy Lin is undoubtedly depressed after losing Landry Fields. But hey, don't worry NYK brought in Marcus Camby, hid all the fire extinguishers, prevented Tyson Chandler from committing suicide, didn't trade Iman Shumpert, and built a wax statue of Carmelo Anthony. Knicks are fine.

3) Steve Nash joins the Lakers:

4) The Atlanta Hawks escaping mediocrity:
I don't know about you guys, but I penciled the Atlanta Hawks as the 5th seed in the Eastern Conference every year up until 2056. The prototypical mediocre team finally did something of relevance. They hired Danny Ferry, he started up Windows Vista, he fired everyone, typed in his username and password, traded everyone, read the newspaper and took a nap. The Hawks may mess around and get that asshole, crybaby Dwight Howard (strangely friends with Josh Smith) and lure Chris Paul (he loves Magic City, but then again, who doesn't) next year. Mediocre no more. 1 seed or 15th seed. Ferry, out!

5) Jay-Z saying "The Nets can go 0-82 and I look at you like this shit gravy"
I was praying that Deron Williams left, Joe Johnson never arrived and Gerald Wallace tore his ACL in preseason game one. Just so we can see this face:
-gravy face

6) Is NBA League Pass going to be worth it this year?
I'm a big basketball fan and I love watching every team play, but watching Eric Gordon taking miserable lazy jumpers while Drew Brees looks on ain't sounding too fun. What does league pass offer? Watching Michael Beasley average 28 a game on 29% shooting and 1.12 assists? Watching Monta Ellis and Brandon Jennings rock-paper-scissors to see who shoots next? Watching the 76ers start a basketball game with 5 small forwards? Watching the Celtics play the "We still got it" card for the 4th year in a row? Watch David Stern give "the eye" to nervous officials when LeBron drives to the basket against the Pistons? Watch anyone on the Pistons not named Greg Monroe? Fuck, I'm worried about next year.

If you're a girl and read this far, I have some babies for you to have.

Thursday, July 5, 2012

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We've all been there, San "Jim from 'American Pie" Diego.

Sometimes you think about a night so much that you get in your own head about it. You worry about safety, how it's going to work, and if you're going to last long enough. In your head, you want to last an hour and leave everyone satisfied, but occasionally things don't always go your way. Sometimes you fumble out of the gates and all your fireworks pop off in 30 seconds with everyone leaving disappointed and confused.

All that is left is an apology and the promise of everyone getting their money back.

Monday, July 2, 2012

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I don't care how many Netbooks, Ultrabooks, and external hard drives it'll take, I'm getting that mixtape in one download. I don't care if it's a bunch of gibberish, non-sense, and hootenanny, we all have to find a way to thank the Based God.

Real talk, I have only listened to one Lil B song titled, "Justin Bieber" where he rhymed "Justin" with "Justin" and "Bieber" with "Bieber" at least 379 times. Appreciate him for his I have no idea why he's famous contribution to music.
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Is today Monday? Sure, that seems like an easy question if you look at your calendar, but if you look with your party shades on, today's actually Thursday. Throwing July 4th right in the middle of the week looked like a terrible idea months ago, but now we have found ourselves smack in the midst of a legitimate 10 day semi-weekend. Let's go through every day as it should go:

Last Friday: Off from work feeling good. Take that requisite nap, send out some texts, and start drinking. Go out, get weird, lose one of your friends, sleep it off.

Last Saturday: Miss McDonald's breakfast AGAIN, beat yourself up because of it, consider going outside, start sweating before you realize you're outside, go back in and lounge the day away. Do the same thing as the night before, but at a different bar in what I hope are different clothes.

Last Sunday: Dead to the world, catch up on all on-demand TV shows, consider playing sports/doing something active, scoff at the idea, order pizza, nap, iron work clothes...but HOW MANY WORK CLOTHES?!

Monday (Today): How do I treat this week? Is today like a Thursday? People are loading you with work because they plan on being radio-silent for 7 days. Still a small amount of residual alcohol in your veins, oh well, #SWERVE.

Tuesday (Tomorrow): Joke city. Come in whenevs, take a 2 hour lunch, drink a margarita, sneaky throw up in the bathroom, come back into work, get let out early. Open Excel just for the hell of it though. Light, super casual drinks.

Wednesday (Bombs be burstin'n shit): Regret that "light, super casual drinks" turned into heavy, rambunctious drinks. Lay on a beach, sweat like an asshole, take a quick dip, eat some clam strips, and order a lemonade because your body physically can't handle another alcoholic beverage.

Thursday: Second Thursday of the week, no one is in the office and if they are, their souls aren't. Power through the day, don't respond to "What's good for tonight?" texts, watch some Netflix and call it a night.

Friday: Be legitimately shocked that you are effectively "at it" again. At this point you don't even know what drinking establishment to go to because you've been to like 30 in the past 6 days. And you can't use the stay-in excuse because you wasted it last night. Just dive in and don't buy microwaveable White Castles from 7-Eleven on your way home.

Saturday: Homeostasis is gone. You don't know whether you have to eat, shit, or throw up, so you just lay in your bed for legit 4 1/2 hours. There are White Castle crumbs everywhere. Shit.

Sunday: You clean your room, buy toothpaste from CVS, do some laundry, answer 2 emails, and pretend that your life is fine. Disregard your impressive weight gain, lowered morals, numerous bruises, and your tattered memory of the 4th of July celebration itself and you had a pretty good 10 day weekend.

Buckle up.