Monday, March 31, 2014

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My sails are so windless right now.  I don't know up from down.  I'm just plain disheveled.  If you've been living under a rock today, Google told the world that they were recruiting for the role of "Pokemon Master" and made an update to Google Maps that included a Pokemon catching game.  Well guess fucking what?  It was an April Fool's joke.  A joke.  My life, at that very moment, made into a joke.

Yeah, I have my regular job.  I also have my blogging job.  I have hopes, dreams, aspirations and all of that other sappy shit, but being a Pokemon Master is my calling.  I was literally not meant to do anything better in life.  The moment Pokemon Red and Blue came out, it was like everything was decided.  I was going to spend the rest of my life catching fictional cartoons.  One of my biggest struggles in life is holding back the fact that I once caught all 150 Pokemon in middle school.  It's 2014, the fact that such a thing is not a positive quality that you can add to your resume and/or job interview is maddening and oppressive. 

So yeah, I'm hurt.  You can't pull April Fool's jokes on March 31st.  Shit's just mean.  I was ready to quit my job, buy a bike, head to Cinnabar Island, swim on the coast, fight a blurry creature named MissingNo like 30 times, acquire unlimited rare candies and Master Balls, catch ALL the cartoon animals and become a celebrity.  Nope, Google had to be petty.  You ruined a life today, guys.  You ruined a life.

PS: If you're going to throw out a April Fool's Day joke, at least be an irritable NBA player that drops a fake R&B album:

Friday, March 28, 2014

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Remember And 1 shirts?  They were those novelty basketball shirts that did the shit-talking for you because you were likely too busy missing layups and thinking you were way better than you were.  It made me think about how some of those shirts crossed a couple of lines.  Namely, every single shirt attacked all of your strong female relationships:

This jacked, bald-headed, faceless (he black though), dude is just straight up implying that he already stole your girl.  Like, before even getting on the court and assessing each other's skills, he ended your relationship and convinced her to date him.  That's pretty outlandish and frankly, logistically hard to believe. 

That's a picture of simple assault.  No way around it.  That's a woman getting attacked.  Oh, you want me to think that woman being attacked in the graphic is my mother too?  AND you're implying that her wig quality is piss poor?  This might be the lowest of the low as far as diss shirts go.

Yikes.  Well at least this one isn't attacking my mother or my girlfriend - we're finally making progress.  I'll be honest, if a guy killed me out there and just pointed at this shirt, I'd probably go home.  I wouldn't necessarily "give up" the game, but I'd definitely reevaluate things.  For one, I'd NEVER try to play with that guy again because he's clearly scary and marked his territory all over my carcass.  

"Oh shit, your mom has type-2 diabetes and they had to amputate her right foot, dawg"

"Yeah, I dunked on a kid with a genetic disposition for high cholesterol"

"Your mother has a nice butt and I'd like to have sex with her"

None of these are ok.

This is clearly fake (h/t Collegehumor), but is it really that far off?  Dude wants to eviscerate your soul over a pick up game.  Shooty hoops.  He wants to eat your soul and floss with your hopes and dreams all over some after work exercise.  

With all that said, Hot Sauce just stole this dude's girl and his mother, forced him into retirement and Grim Reaper-style absorbed his soul and left him in a abyss of despair. If he was wearing an And 1 shirt, there was a very good chance that he would be arrested right on the spot.

Tuesday, March 25, 2014

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Well, everything has officially changed.  Apparently the years 2003-2014 have been a complete wash from a dancing standpoint.  Listen, I'll tell you this first: I can't dance.  I have a semblance of rhythm and can follow a beat, but I'm not a dancer.  I'm not triple jointed, I'm not going to shift my hat off my head, onto my shoulder and onto my shoe like a Chris Brown and I'm certainly not trying to sweat out there.  I keep my perimeter tight and, barring how intoxicated I am, don't try anything too outlandish.  

According to science, drunk me was apparently "Mr. Steal Yo' Girl" and Albert Brennaman was one of the great dancers of our generation.  

Scary unpredictable movements of the legs, head and hips are apparently what's hot in the streets.  Any time you come close to kicking a girl or spilling her drink, you are building a deeper bond.  If you're smart, you're buying all of the stock in "The Running Man."  

You know what sucks?  The arms getting no love.  If anything, I'm a GREAT arm dancer.  I mean, what the hell am I going to do with this move now?

Had this shit in my back pocket for like 12 years.  I guess I have to live life without a "Plan B."  If anything, this blog may serve as my "I don't want to take a salsa class" opus.

Monday, March 24, 2014

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This has officially gotten ugly.  For the uninitiated, this battle has been going on for a long, long time.  Dead serious, I almost got into a fight in college over toilet paper related tension.

I'll be honest, I'm a toilet paper snob.  It's the one thing I will absolutely ball out for.  Actually, I lied.  I also ball out for pancake/waffle syrup, but that's another battle.  Think about it - there is no more sacred ground than your butt.  You can't mess around and get some elementary school bathroom grade T-P.  Shit might give you leprosy or something.

Let's go to the video tape pictures that I found on the internet after two seconds of Google searching: 


Charmin's "Does a bear shit in the woods?" subtle advertising trick is fucking disgusting.  I can't sit down for dinner at night and watch a bear pick toilet paper speckles from his butthole and not feel like throwing up a little bit.  Shit's gross.  

Mannnnnn, wut?  This is just cheating by Cottonelle.  Almost disrespectful to our creative palettes.  Like, 

Marketing Guy #1:  "Hey, people like dogs" 
Marketing Guy #2:  "Yeah...they definitely do"
Chief Marketing Officer: "Then let's literally put a dog on every single bag of toilet paper that we sell"
(All of them collectively): *high five and do a bucket of cocaine*

I love pups, but dammit, this just doesn't make a lot of sense.  (But those 'soft ripples' make so much sense)

"Oh my god, Dub, those tweets are clearly fake" - the Internet.  If you don't think I know that, you don't know the wild wild west of blogging.  And of course, shots were still fired by Charmin.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

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Yooooo.  How did we let this slide, y'all?  Are we too into the "Cinderella" story to look over the fact that this bushel of wheat is engaging in cannibalism all up in our faces?

I know mascots are supposed to be a little wonky and are basically there for the kids, but we crossed several lines here.  Call me crazy, but I don't think many kids out there see a jacked piece of wheat and think, "Damn, I NEED to get me a stuffed animal of that!"  Nah.  They're probably confused and very likely scared.  All it takes is one kid to do the "Why does that wheat man have a piece of wheat in his mo.....oh my god" math and this whole thing is blown out of control.  

I guess that's what happens when you go on 100 game win streaks and still have no one in the country know where your school is located.  You can get a little loose in the mascot realm.  Throw some cannibalism in there.  Plop a penis on the nose.  See if anyone cares.  

Monday, March 17, 2014

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Sniper on the roof!  But seriously, did he die in that second .gif?  I think he did.  Who can blame him, though?  He took a line drive blast directly in the penis.  If he lived, he probably didn't want to live. Pretty much Lieutenant Dan'ing out there in front of thousands of people.
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Welp, China is officially destroying us from every possible angle.  Technology, military strength, and now racism.  Does the US have control of anything anymore?  

My heart goes out to redneck southerners.  They were the kings of "black people" racism.  Now what will become of them and their misplaced hatred?  Racism has changed, y'all.  Can't go around willy-nilly calling people mean names anymore.  Newsflash: three-eyed stereotype dolls are the new hotness.  With things like this in existence, how tacky and played out is a burned cross going to look now?  

Yes, that sound you just heard was the Ku Klux Klan letting out a collective "Fuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhhhhhck."

"That's so 2000 and late" - China to traditional racists.

Wednesday, March 12, 2014

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This is for a friend, clearly.  Duh, man.  Pfft.  The nerve of you guys to insinuate that I would buy a shirt with like a thousand handsome different pictures of Ryan Gosling on it.  So weird.

I have friends - female friends.  And these female friends might be interested in a shirt with one of their favorite handsome actors plastered all over it.  $55?  Ha!  That's a drop in the bucket when it comes to buying such an awesome t-shirt for yourse....a friend.  The one thing that you can never take for granted in this world are your friends.  Nothing hotter in the streets right now than friendship.

(It goes without saying, but the sleeves pop.  They'll look great on my friend's female arm.)

Tuesday, March 11, 2014

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If there was a picture that can define Winter 2014, this would be it.  Cold, desolate and hopeless.  And here's Exhibit A.  Plain and simple, that's a frog that has given up.  He had the option to go find shelter in the rocks, but just said, "Nah, I'm good."  

Actually, now that I think about it, this frog's a cocky bastard.  Don't act like he's not out there with frozen eyeballs just waiting for someone to take a picture.  I know your game, frog.  "Oh, I temporarily died for 4 months, but I posed like this before I fake died so I can stunt on all of y'all" blah, blah, blah.  You're no different than a "fitness model" on Instagram.  Winter needs to end so I can drink fruity, gender-conflicting margaritas and for frogs to stop being assholes. 

Thursday, March 6, 2014

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Hey Alligator,

Get your shit together. 

The Mesozoic Era

Yikes.  Not a good day for alligators.  Not a good day at all.  16 seed defeated a 1 seed.  Once word gets out that one of them got absolutely brutalized by an otter, respect/fear is going to plummet.  Alligator wrestlers everywhere will be out of jobs, people won't think twice about hitting golf balls out of the swamp and, most of all, otters are officially terrifying.

Seriously.  Otters might have gotten bold all of a sudden.  What struck that otter to say, "Yeah, I can fuck this alligator all the way up"?  That's the question we need to dive into because humans aren't too far off on the "improbable animals otters didn't think they could fuck up, but suddenly can" list.  I'm not trying to get otter-mugged in a dark alley any time soon.  Be on the look out, people.

Sell all alligator stock and buy all otter stock.  Market lesson of the day.

Wednesday, March 5, 2014

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How do you discover this talent?  Must have crushed a Five Guys burger and milkshake, stared at his Outlook inbox, passed out on his keyboard and woke up to realize that he was a superstar.  You don't choose nose typing - you "itis", pass out and nose typing chooses you.

Love all the people looking at him, too.  Like, "Oh shit, Khurshid's about to bless us with some nose typing up in this bitch."  Hey guys, I get it.  The office gets REAL mundane at times and this is the perfect thing to shake stuff up.  Hell, I've convinced myself that the characters I've created with paper clips over the years can get their own half-hour HBO show.  We all lose it, but sometimes that can be the best thing that ever happened to us.

Tuesday, March 4, 2014

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Japan is keeping it VERY light in preparation of every animal escaping the zoo.  Throw one of your boys in a super-childish Gorilla costume, let him run around until he get tired, and then poke him with a stick.  Perfect testing strategy.  If the "Rise of the Planet of the Apes" characters followed this strategy, that movie would be over in like 10 minutes.

More importantly for gorillas, Mack Spellman released an album today named after the king of all gorillas.  From the looks of this album cover:

It may tackle some heavy issues.  All albums with silhouettes and orange sunsets do, idiots.  Give him a listen and buy his album (you can pay as little as $0 or as much as 100 Bitcoins) because he's my meal ticket once he makes it big.  I'll be a citizen of Mooch City and the pied piper of maxing out credit cards that aren't mine.  So please, help him because you also help me and I NEED this.  Here's the video for the album titled: "Kong":

(That really dark, super handsome, and very drunk guy at the 0:21 mark may or may not be me)

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Careful, ladies.  If you watch this video you may "literally die" or "can't even deal" at an alarming rate.  I know that combining Beyonce with a flagrant use of emojis may, quite realistically, cause some chaos for your gender population.  

With that being said, "Drunk In Love" is a track.  Jam city, population: Me and 3.5 billion chicks.  Not the first time I've posted on it and it certainly won't be the last.  Now that that's out of the way, emojis are also the jam right now.  Fuck if I know how to use them, but if I get an opportunity to post that smiling poop face, it's a good day.

Enjoy.  Don't get into car accidents, miss your stop on trains, fall into open manholes, walk into oncoming traffic, or say "I die.  Like, literally, I died" please.

Monday, March 3, 2014

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We've all been there, kid.  Sometimes you flip to a page of the SI Swimsuit issue and see what could possibly be a nipple and BAM, you're blown back in your chair.  You can be a 26 year old blogger, a baby, even a girl and this is the same reaction that you'd get.  Kid didn't even make it to upside down Kate Upton yet.

On a serious note, did this kid just hit puberty before our eyes?  Kind of a special photo from a physiological standpoint, yanno?

FWIW: My rank of the front cover is: Left, Right, Middle.