Are Slush Puddles The Worst Things In The World?

^you are a god damn liar if you have any type of clue how deep this is

Today was a pretty glorious day in the city of Boston.  First and foremost, the "Today Show" was in the city and I will probably non-violently stalk Savannah Guthrie later, but it was also 50 degrees outside.  If you live on the east coast you know that anything above 5 degrees could be considered a win for that day.  While it's a win, it also means that all the snow we got from that asshole Nemo is going to melt everywhere. With that said, there is nothing in the entire world worse than a fucking quality slush puddle.

Ranging from 1cm to possibly 7ft deep, slush puddles plague large metropolis areas that tend to pile snow on the corners of streets as a temporary solution to the road accessibility.  Because of this we lose (probably) 10-20 pedestrians per year to slush puddle related irritability.  It's bird poop and slush puddles on the Mount Rushmore of things that can automatically ruin your day.  The kings of their domain.  One is fecal matter and one is a slooshy, wet noodle of a sock and a "I don't know what was in that water, but my ankle is really itchy" fear to carry you through the day.  I haven't stepped outside yet because I'm trying to scale out the best route to avoid these things, but I'm just issuing a public service warning to those with small children and pets.  They could die out there.  Especially if they're black.  You know we can't swim.

Be safe ya'll.

PS. Actually I think bird poop is worse:

   

The Definitive Video Of Goats Screaming Like Humans

Sometimes you just have to let the Youtube comments write the post for you:

So important.  If you're not crying at the 24 second mark, you shouldn't read this blog anymore because your sense of humor is broken.

If You're Not McLemore'ing Whenever Something Slightly Good Happens, You're Doing It Wrong

I just looked in the fridge and found an unexpected Kit-Kat sitting in there.  Guess what I did?  I got up started walking in place, chopping my arms up and down and flailing all remaining limbs in all sorts of directions.  I McLemore'd.  And you should too.

This may be the .Gif of the year, so there are a few people that steal the show here aside from Ben and I would like to put the spotlight on them because they are just as important.

Star #1:

-Nervous white guy.  You can tell he's nervous because he's biting his warm-up as a defense mechanism.  Have no fear, dawg.  When a moment like this happens you can seamlessly fit into almost any scenario regardless of your socioeconomic status.  McLemore'in.

Star #2:

We've all had this moment.  You ever see a friend of yours express interest in something you liked, but were scared to admit you liked?  It's like me and reality TV shows.  If I find another dude that knows every character on "The Challenge" we're insta-friends.  Well, this guy just found out Ben McLemore likes to dance.  That's the look of a guy that just made a new best friend.

Star #3:

The sidekick.  The bottom brick.  The guy that really makes this thing go.  You think Jordan could have had the success he had without Scottie Pippen.  The McLemore couldn't be the McLemore without alternating and perpendicular arm/leg extensions from this guy.  It gave everyone the confidence to start flailing their limbs rhythmically. 

I feel like Bill Self had some racist thoughts when he walked into the locker room and saw this.

Why Kate Upton Is Very Similar To Steve Nash

Withering, lesbian-looking, Laker point guard versus the possibly overweight, big boobed, Kate Upton. Certainly an outlandish post on my part, but everything will start to make sense very shortly.

Let's start with my power statement: Why Kate Upton is very similar to Steve Nash. I should have been clearer here, but I'm actually referring to the Steve Nash MVP years of '04-'05 and '05-'06. Let's all be honest here, Steve Nash should NOT have won back to back MVPs and we can also be honest that Kate Upton's boobs should NOT have gotten back to back SI Swimsuit covers. Don't get me wrong, I love Nash and mammary glands. One can run the pick and roll to perfection and the others are boobs, but we have to call a spade a spade.

As soon as this happened:

Steve's future MVP opportunities should have been null and void. No offense, but Kobe maybe, possibly, impregnated your mouth there. Granted, Nash put up better stats his 2nd MVP year, but they still paled in comparison to LeBron, Dirk, and Kobe. The voters were just backed into an "Aw shit" corner and had to stay consistent. Shame.

Similarly, as soon as this happened:

and Nina Agdal happened:

Kate Upton should have been relegated to page 43 in the Body Suit section where she can be allowed to flourish. Don't throw a girl that clearly didn't put in the work during the offseason on the cover. She rested on her past successes and got rewarded for getting worse at her craft while a spry up and comer got screwed. Nina, we know how it should have gone, girl.

But never forget:

Blogging This "Spiders Raining Down In Brazil" Video Live From A Rocketship To Mars

Sure, Mars has oxygen issues, no sustainable water supply and virtually nothing to do, but guess what else it doesn't have? Spiders falling from the sky to poison all our foreheads. That's a very huge issue for me, so if it takes leaving the planet to avoid airborne arachnids, so be it.

This is without a doubt the worst thing in the world, right? I don't think it's even a question, but for the sake of word count, I had to ask it. Raining spiders are too nightmarish to qualify as a potential nightmare for me.

Good luck with the Olympics, Brazil. Mentally prepare yourself to watch Usain Bolt get devoured by giant Black Widows right before he does his "arrow to the sky" celebration.

Nuclear Blizzard Nemo-1, These Birds-0

As you know, Hurri-blizzard Nemo came in and put Boston into a nuclear winter. I'm essentially blogging from a doomsday shelter with a can of beans and an electrical generator powered by a hamster wheel. Before the storm hit, I went outside to stock up on the essential supplies of toilet paper, V8 Splash, and Pillsbury biscuits. On the way, I saw this enterprising young bird just trying to figure things out:

-Just straight up didn't check the weather reports on the news and it's clear that he knew he fucked up. Once the flurries started, he got under this weak ass bush and looked like he was going to wait it out. I gave him a head nod, took his pic and knew this was without a doubt the last time I'd see this bird again.

-Sometimes you want to go out doing what you love. Hopefully when I'm on my deathbed, I'll have a invisible laptop on my chest and a weird news story queued up on WMD to publish on MyFaceSpaceBook.illuminati.com so you guys can all laugh with me one last time. This bird went out eating assorted nuts, berries and random debris. Pray for it's family.

Oh and in case you weren't sure whether these birds made it or not, this is the picture of that same area about 6 hours later:

Um, Bro, Your Head

All fun and games until around Pic 4. That's exactly when he realized he was in a good deal of trouble. A truly raw moment when a dude realizes his head is 5x it's normal size and that the hair dye didn't work.

Ain't nothing worse than being temporarily deformed. I've been there during a time I like to refer to as "The Sty of '99." If you're unfamiliar, a sty is basically a pus-filled sac in your eyelid that makes you look like you got punched in the face. Very embarrassing and highly treatable. So treatable that Mom didn't even attempt to keep me home from school. She just proceeded through the morning routine like Sloth from The Goonies wasn't chompin' on Lucky Charms in the kitchen; tossed me to the wolves on the bus, and proceeded on with her day.

And like clockwork, "Oh shit, Dub got his ass-whooped!" happened all day. Because everyone was an idiot in 7th grade, no one knew what a sty was and everyone assumed I was either abused at home or got beat up by a girl. There wasn't a middle ground. So from literally 7:30am-2:30pm I had to fend for my social life, defend my family's honor, explain what a sty was to at least 200 people, try to see the chalk board with one eye, and still maintain my status as the class clown. All very overwhelming. So I feel for you, man. We may not live on the same street, per se, but we are from the same town.

PS. If this kid wasn't called "Big-Faced Hunneds" throughout the duration of this, everyone failed.

PPS. The reason I got the sty was because I kept doing that thing when you flip your eyelid inside out to show the gross underskin. In order to remain the class clown, you have to do some things that were dangerous and outside of the box. No regrets.

Timeout. THIS Is What Moles Look Like?!

I was about to dive into a news story about how moles can smell music or some shit and then got completely sidetracked when I saw what a mole actually looks like.

No, really, what in the FUCK is this about:

I have a lot to say about this. First off, this is what something looks like after it blasts itself in the face with a shotgun. Also, I'm not completely sure if that's a nose, mouth, vagina, or booty hole. When you can't tell if something is a nose or an asshole, there is something very wrong with you anatomically. Plus you have really weird hands, bro.

I'm so disappointed in:

I've lead my entire life to believe that this is roughly what moles looked like. Crafty oval-headed creatures that were just out to ruin crops. Occasionally 1 or 2 would get their hands on a hardhat and hilarity would ensue. You know, playful, lighthearted stuff. Nope, lies. Motherfucking Milton Bradley duped me hard.

PS. How messed up was the idea of whack-a-mole? "Oh shit, that mole is trying to attain natural light. Let's crush it's skull with a hammer!"

As Long As You're Not Committing Murders, You Can Thrive As A Criminal In Chicago

If Chicago was worried about it's tourism, all fears should be put aside. It's a god damn grab-bag giveaway going down in the Murder Capital. Cops are straight up too busy dealing with the 19 murders per minute to deal with any type of crime where a person doesn't die.

So remember as a rule of thumb, kids: Don't beat anyone to the point where their heart stops beating and you're in the clear. The cops won't come. Need a new TV? Just get drunk, stroll into Best Buy, grab that 42" Samsung LED, walk out, punch the store attendant trying to stop to you in their orbital socket, go to the parking lot, steal a car, drive drunk, hit some people (BUT MAKE SURE THEY AIN'T DEAD THOUGH), and go home to illegally download the Taylor Swift discology. This is possible because you're in a state where Grand Theft Auto is literally handled over the phone.

911: "Yes, how can we help you today?"

Victim: "Someone stole my car!"

911: "Oh, ummmm....what did it look like?"

Victim: "It was a black Honda Accord, license pla.."

911: "Eh, it's probably gone"

Victim: "What? I didn't even finish telling you the license number"

911: "How the hell are we supposed to find a black car? Wait, wait..did anyone die in that car?"

Victim: "No of course not. Why wou.."

911: ::Dial Tone::

Moral of the story: Chicago is real bad. I don't know how they're putting up the murder numbers that they're putting up, but it's impressive in a depressing way. Like 5 people died while I wrote this blog, I'm pretty sure. People are either super pissed about stuff, have unlimited access to an array of deadly weapons or are eerily fragile/die very easily. Most likely a combo platter.

Makes me respect Carl Winslow even more and I didn't think that was possible.

Stories That Can't Be True: Cats Kill 15 BILLION Mammals Per Year

This is utterly shocking. You're better than this NPR. You can't just toss around the "billion" word like you have scientists in the field counting each and every mouse/rabbit/bird/human baby casualty. The only thing I can understand on this list is the human baby. Babies are just habitual line-steppers. First years on Earth are meant to cry, sleep, throw up, and line-step. They're literally too dumb to understand anything and routinely need to get checked by cats.

We all remember this baby that didn't keep his head on a swivel:

As well as this baby that just couldn't quite make it across the goal line:

This baby threw a VERY solid haymaker, but was ultimately murdered. Violently:

#Concussions:

Like I said, it's completely understandable that cats kill human babies, but BIRDS, RABBITS, and MICE? Unfathomable.