Thursday, January 12, 2017

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First off, this photo is hilarious.  My man has a stressed out look on his face akin to someone that was forced to nestle up in a carry-on for a photo-op.  But aside, this is love.  When you're in that truly mad, dumb, stupid, crazy love, practicality flies out the window and you start thinking of cartoonish solutions to problems.

Everyone throws out their dumb "#Goals" images with things like two people holding hands or a couple smiling together (which is very depressing, if we're being honest) and you have the gold standard right in front of you:

Look at your significant other, partner, or husband/wife and ask yourself, "Would they concoct a not-so-elaborate plan to stuff me into a very small suitcase and wheel me out of a highly secure location?" If the answer is no, I don't know what to tell you.  It's definitely worth a conversation.  Look, I'm not saying you two need to break up, but, at the very least, you need to complete reevaluate your entire history together, assess most of your life choices, and download all of the dating apps (including "Farmer's Only").  You know, just to be safe. 

Tuesday, January 10, 2017

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When I first saw #GoldenShowers trending, I didn't even stop to find out what it meant.  I just knew that I needed to step up.  I felt like a quarterback knowing he had to get back out there to win the game:

Then I read what it was about and honestly reacted like it was nothing.  Colonel Cheetos has us so desensitized to wild ass information that him soliciting prostitutes to pee on him was some "ho hum" shit.  A real walk in the park. We toss the word surreal around a lot when it comes to Sunny D(onald), but "Russians have videos of this man getting peed on, so they used him as a puppet for years" is just a tad fucking surreal.

The dichotomy between President Obama's Farewell Address and Trump defending himself in all caps from pee-related allegations on Twitter to strangers made me feel a type of way.  I'm happy for Barry, though.  Despite his hairline remaining in suspiciously immaculate condition, the rest of him looked frail, and, based on how he was acting tonight, he looked like he hasn't been able to sex Michelle in awhile.  Thankfully I have the tiny platform available to thank Barack for everything these past 8 years and formally congratulate him on the impending sex.

Also, Malia might be the only happy person on January 21st:

Thursday, January 5, 2017

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The "It's lit" ft. ellipsis heard 'round the world.  Let's not beat around the bush here, Nicki Minaj ripped Meek Mill's soul out and left it for dead in a plush, oriental-rugged hallway.  The man's in a sweatsuit, wearing white sneakers with black socks, likely taking pictures with a self-timed phone on one of the chairs from the business center.

Look, we've all been there.  Someone broke our heart and we started faking shit immediately.  Three days after you get broken up with appear to be the happiest days of your life.  You're at the club, you're taking pics, you're single again, and it's awesome.  Well, until you get home of course.  Home is where the real pain is.  As soon as you get home, you're on Facebook looking at every single one of her pics trying to see where the glimmer in her eye went out and where you went wrong. Then you try to watch *pron* but even the Incognito tab dude is disappointed in you, which just sucks.

^ he's disgusted, sick to his stomach

But don't worry, Meek. You have all the time in the world to get back in the booth and scream unnecessarily into a microphone.  Mics are scared, man.  You have that power back.  You don't have to worry about being on your girl's tour anymore.  Now get back out there and put together some trash ass garbage juice music for your fans' ears.

Wednesday, January 4, 2017

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What a time. Not only do we have Uber and iPads, we also have tape that we can put on the back of our necks that turns us into a partially eaten bag of Doritos. The future is officially here.

This is just another acceptable form of casual and playful "lying" that ladies like to do, like heels and makeup. When you take off the 6 inch heels, you're 6 inches shorter. When you wipe off the makeup, you look different. When you take off your neck tape, you turn into a bowl of pancake batter. The world keeps spinning on its axis.

But seriously, though. Please don't use this. If you're married or in a long-term relationship, why? If you're single trying to pick up someone, this could only end in disaster. Like, absolute fucking disaster.

Imagine going home with a girl you met at the club, getting a little frisky, and she takes off her neck tape only to unravel like a freshly opened can of buttermilk biscuits. Life ain't supposed to be that cruel.

Love the skin you're in.

Tuesday, January 3, 2017

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^Start at 2:20 (although you should watch the whole thing because it's ridiculous)

Synopsis: Soulja Boy had a home invader, shot him, walked up to the body, pulled the mask off, said he knew who the guy was, and shot him again. Vlad continues to ask questions and indicates that he's very clearly the feds

This is kinda like when Baxter ate the whole wheel of cheese. How can I be upset about any of this? Soulja Boy casually turned a tale of brutal murder into a game of Time Crisis 2 at Chuck E. Cheese.

Like, come on man:

Call me a nerd, but I've never shot and/or murdered anyone before. Yeah, I know. Big time dweeb shit. With that said, no one has ever shot a person like this. Time Crisis doesn't even support this range of motion, dawg. But hey, live your dreams and *shoot* for the stars. You've certainly come a long way from infiltrating our Kazaa and Bearshare accounts with your objectively wack but catchy music.

PS. I'm fairly (100%) certain that DJ Vlad is the most detectable undercover cop of all time. Dude was essentially playing "Guess Who" with Soulja and implicated him roughly 45 times in a five minute interview. Bizarre stuff all around.