Let's face it, nobody likes the French. Unless you're actually from France, (or Quebec, which is a whole other entry), the French are like the smelly, annoying little sister of the family who hasn't figured out what deodorant is yet. See, France is in our family, but we could care less if France gets picked on at the bus stop or gets her lunch money stolen. But France IS in our family, so when she gets ACTUALLY bullied by her punk, lunatic neighbor Germany, like she did during World War II, we are obligated to bail her ass out even though she gave crazy Germany all her lunch money, signed over the deed to her house, and basically laid down and got butt-raped by him. So big cool brother America rolls his eyes, goes to France's house and kicks the shit out of Germany and even steals half of Germany's house for good measure...cause even though we hate some family members, shit, they're family, so we gotta do what we gotta do.
The point is, sissy ass France shouldn't need to call on her big brother to fight every single battle for her when she's in trouble...and then make fun of America behind his back when they're NOT in trouble. What the fuck? Is there any doubt that if a kid from Germany moved to a little town in France, the kid from Germany would be the coolest kid in school, even though he doesn't even speak French, out of fear from the other kids? Those bunch of smelly surrender monkeys would do anything the kid from Germany told them to do because they're still shaking from the beating they took 70 years ago. "Hey, give me all the money in your wallet, take your clothes off, run around school with your clothes off, and then give me your parents' names and work addresses so I can go there after school and humiliate them too." And Frenchy would be like, "Yes sir! Would you also like my 2 year old sister's day care schedule?"
In this whole family scenario, you might ask, "Well if France is the weakling little sister, what does that make countries like Lybia and North Korea?" Lybia and North Korea are the poor, jealous families from the other side of town always trying to one-up America cause they're jealous. So they're like, "Hey we gotta knock America down a peg!" So they plan and they plan and they plan and they make empty threats, but they're never gonna do anything about it cause fuck them. France is technically in our family, even though they're also jealous and weak.
And what does France contribute to the world? Quick, name me a French actor from American movies. We have a bunch of British and Australian and Canadian actors....How about a French band? The only sport they play in France is soccer, and as we all know, soccer is the pussyest sport on Earth, where every time someone gets touched, they dive on the ground and grab they're shins like a Civil War soldier who's been taken out be a cannon. When we wage wars to save the world from terrorism, instead of France helping out and sending some of their boys to the battlefield, they criticize the rest of us from allowing them the chance to be free. (Don't give me any shit either, you hippies out there...the only reason you're allowed to BE hippies is because America fights this war. I don't like American soldiers getting killed either, but they weren't drafted. They're the bravest men and women I know, and I couldn't do what they do, but they signed up for the military and they keep us free, whether you like it or not.)
Can we all agree that French is the gayest sounding language on the planet? And they use that language to snicker to themselves about Americans if they find it worthwhile to visit their crap hole of a country on vacation. And their are only two reasons people visit France: to visit Normandy and pay tribute to the thousands of heroes who lost their lives during the D-Day invasion in early June of 1944, OR to have a romantic getaway in Paris. That's IT.
Does France have any hot supermodels? That I don't know, but I DO know that supermodels don't smoke 2 packs a day, leave their armpits and legs hairy, and walk around with an undeserved sense of superiority. Really French women? Do you think THAT highly of yourselves that you think you can just get away with not showering or shaving. I've never had sex with a French chick, but even if they sent the hottest one in the country to my house saying, "Oiu Monsieur, let us fuck!" I would kind of look at her, think about it for a second, make a weird face, and say, "You know what?....I don't really want to get near that thing." Because who knows what the fuck is growing down there and just what kind of 'feremones' she'd have going on. (That's a lie, I'd fuck her....but you get the point.)
What does any of this have to do with egging them? When we had French exchange students come here in high school, my friends and I sought them out on Halloween, egged the shit out of them while chanting, "U.S.A! U.S.A.!" Then we pulled a Sonny LoSpecchio after he and his crew beat up the bikers in A Bronx Tale. We took their leader, and said, "Look at me! Look at me! We did this to you!"
I know, really cool right? But we were kids, and you know what, fuck them, those smelly, feminine, white flag waving, quiche eating surrender monkeys. Maybe there's a reason they hate us so much, haha!
U.S.A! U.S.A.! U.S.A.!
Friday, June 24, 2011
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Vegas is Good for the Soul, Part 1
Las Vegas gets a bad reputation, at least from people who have never been there. For those who HAVE been to the happiest place on Earth, (sorry Disneyland), Vegas is a magical playground where inhibitions are thrown to the wind and visitors can step outside themselves for a few days and be whoever they want.
Sometimes those who travel to the desert oasis just bring out the darkest, most evil, soul-less versions of themselves and unleash them on the strip like the Roman Army of General Maximus. If you're lucky enough to escape Vegas with any money, your liver, and your dignity in tact, then you've made out pretty good. This is very rarely the case, at least in my numerous Vegas experiences.
To my friends, I'm sorry in advance. The following is a list of things should have stayed in Vegas:
Going to the Crazy Horse II as the sun rose over the mountains only to spend a combined $1,500 on strippers who we were convinced would hang out with us when their shifts were over.
Trying to make sweet love to a fake camel at the Luxor.
Being thrown up on by a strange girl while swimming in the pool at the Hard Rock.
Going to a hotel room party with a group of Canadians where there was an actual large, living iguana.
Having food delivered to the hotel room via room service and subsequently destroying every piece of glass by either smashing the glassware on the floor or on each other.
Sitting in the jacuzzi the next day along with most of the glass from the previous night while singing the Canadian National Anthem.
Two friends drunk hugging...one of them completely naked.
Open hand slapping a midget inside the club at Treasure Island.
Starting a fight with the entire bar at the ESPN zone inside New York, New York during game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals after the Celtics beat the Cavaliers during the game featuring the epic battle between Paul Pierce and LeChoke James. (This was BEFORE everyone hated him and everyone at the time hated the Celtics, and therefore, hated us.)
Running across the nearby 8 lane highway on foot in order to get to In and Out Burger; dodging vehicles being driven 65 miles per hour by people who would not be bothered by smashing into a pedestrian. What is it with my friends and carelessly running across highways? At least one of us will definitely be seriously injured by a vehicle while on foot, I'm convinced of this.
Trying to convince a cab driver to find drugs and ultimately succeeding.
Slipping in a puddle of urine in the bathroom at the Luxor pool and then rinsing off in the pool.
Waking up 35 minutes before the flight home after sleeping on the ground, propped up against the hotel couch with a slice of pizza half way in the mouth and half way on the chest, after sleeping for the first time in 4 days.
Bringing home a very special souvenir from a very special, very expensive young lady.
Yup, these are my friends.
Sometimes those who travel to the desert oasis just bring out the darkest, most evil, soul-less versions of themselves and unleash them on the strip like the Roman Army of General Maximus. If you're lucky enough to escape Vegas with any money, your liver, and your dignity in tact, then you've made out pretty good. This is very rarely the case, at least in my numerous Vegas experiences.
To my friends, I'm sorry in advance. The following is a list of things should have stayed in Vegas:
Going to the Crazy Horse II as the sun rose over the mountains only to spend a combined $1,500 on strippers who we were convinced would hang out with us when their shifts were over.
Trying to make sweet love to a fake camel at the Luxor.
Being thrown up on by a strange girl while swimming in the pool at the Hard Rock.
Going to a hotel room party with a group of Canadians where there was an actual large, living iguana.
Having food delivered to the hotel room via room service and subsequently destroying every piece of glass by either smashing the glassware on the floor or on each other.
Sitting in the jacuzzi the next day along with most of the glass from the previous night while singing the Canadian National Anthem.
Two friends drunk hugging...one of them completely naked.
Open hand slapping a midget inside the club at Treasure Island.
Starting a fight with the entire bar at the ESPN zone inside New York, New York during game 7 of the Eastern Conference Finals after the Celtics beat the Cavaliers during the game featuring the epic battle between Paul Pierce and LeChoke James. (This was BEFORE everyone hated him and everyone at the time hated the Celtics, and therefore, hated us.)
Running across the nearby 8 lane highway on foot in order to get to In and Out Burger; dodging vehicles being driven 65 miles per hour by people who would not be bothered by smashing into a pedestrian. What is it with my friends and carelessly running across highways? At least one of us will definitely be seriously injured by a vehicle while on foot, I'm convinced of this.
Trying to convince a cab driver to find drugs and ultimately succeeding.
Slipping in a puddle of urine in the bathroom at the Luxor pool and then rinsing off in the pool.
Waking up 35 minutes before the flight home after sleeping on the ground, propped up against the hotel couch with a slice of pizza half way in the mouth and half way on the chest, after sleeping for the first time in 4 days.
Bringing home a very special souvenir from a very special, very expensive young lady.
Yup, these are my friends.
Saturday, June 11, 2011
None of These Things Are Interesting
When I was 17....no, that's the name of the show on MTV...haha, get it? It's like a play on words. This week's episode, Ashley, Lala, and Brittany. Don't worry, I've never heard of any of them either. One of them was 17 in 2007. Really MTV? You couldn't have done any better than that? I think I conceived my youngest child in 2007. If you haven't seen this show, don't worry, the network miraculously airs it 25 hours a day. I'll be impressed when you make it "When I was 5." You know that Trident commercial where the mom comes into the room and is like, "What are you doing?" And the daughter says, "Ummmm...fighting cavities." Then the son turns around and get this shit, his face is covered in makeup! Fucking genius! You see how that works? We got sucked into thinking one thing, and unbeknownst to us, a completely different scenario was playing out.
My point is, someday, someone clearly more brilliant then myself, will produce a show called When I was 5. This little kid will be a 315 pound alcoholic child molester living in his parent's dungeon/basement. "Yeah, when I was 5, they made me do this commercial where they painted my face like a retarded lesbian clown and made me say hi mommy with a shit-eating grin on my face. And you're surprised I ended up like THIS?"
Fuck Justin Beiber. Is that even how you spell his name? Hold on, I'll look it up, you lazy fucks....no it's Bieber. Who cares? Take those ridiculous shades off, you're inside fucko!
It's 6:45 a.m....I must have just gotten home from the gym.
I haven't seen it but I'm guessing in the movie Just Go With It....Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston wind up in love. ***SPOILER ALERT***!@!@#%#$%!@#$^^%$!!!!
Spoiler alerts are gay. If you don't want to know what happens in a movie before seeing it, either read the title of the article or review or blog or whatever...OR, Go see the fucking movie dip shit! (There it goes again. Spell check doesn't question the fact that I used the words dip and shit, as long as they're not put together, as in dipshit.)
Speaking of Adam Sandler movies, go watch the climactic scene of every one of his "romantic comedies" and tell me it's not the corniest shit you've ever seen. That doesn't mean I don't like his movies.
"We've had a taste of lion, and you know what? Lion tastes good. Let's get us some more lion."
867-5309, what fucking AREA CODE!! PLEASE!!
"If you take the N off of Nice, you get Ice, baby." Actual quote from Ice Tea, who was relevant before 50% of both of you reading this was born.
SPOILER ALERT!!! Gary and Amber are still fighting and making up and generally just being terrible parents in the new season of Teen Mom.
I forget what else I was gonna say. Ah, the beautiful mind of a bipolar with mild anxiety disorder. And this is me ON my meds. Thanks society! Goodnight! Yes it's 7 a.m. and it's only ok to say goodnight at this ungodly hour in Vegas or some other debaucherous place, but not in a small town in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and especially when the name of that town is Plainville.
Oh yeah, Tom Cruise has ALWAYS been bat shit (bat shit, not batshit, for those scoring at home) crazy, why is everyone so surprised by the last couple years?
My point is, someday, someone clearly more brilliant then myself, will produce a show called When I was 5. This little kid will be a 315 pound alcoholic child molester living in his parent's dungeon/basement. "Yeah, when I was 5, they made me do this commercial where they painted my face like a retarded lesbian clown and made me say hi mommy with a shit-eating grin on my face. And you're surprised I ended up like THIS?"
Fuck Justin Beiber. Is that even how you spell his name? Hold on, I'll look it up, you lazy fucks....no it's Bieber. Who cares? Take those ridiculous shades off, you're inside fucko!
It's 6:45 a.m....I must have just gotten home from the gym.
I haven't seen it but I'm guessing in the movie Just Go With It....Adam Sandler and Jennifer Aniston wind up in love. ***SPOILER ALERT***!@!@#%#$%!@#$^^%$!!!!
Spoiler alerts are gay. If you don't want to know what happens in a movie before seeing it, either read the title of the article or review or blog or whatever...OR, Go see the fucking movie dip shit! (There it goes again. Spell check doesn't question the fact that I used the words dip and shit, as long as they're not put together, as in dipshit.)
Speaking of Adam Sandler movies, go watch the climactic scene of every one of his "romantic comedies" and tell me it's not the corniest shit you've ever seen. That doesn't mean I don't like his movies.
"We've had a taste of lion, and you know what? Lion tastes good. Let's get us some more lion."
867-5309, what fucking AREA CODE!! PLEASE!!
"If you take the N off of Nice, you get Ice, baby." Actual quote from Ice Tea, who was relevant before 50% of both of you reading this was born.
SPOILER ALERT!!! Gary and Amber are still fighting and making up and generally just being terrible parents in the new season of Teen Mom.
I forget what else I was gonna say. Ah, the beautiful mind of a bipolar with mild anxiety disorder. And this is me ON my meds. Thanks society! Goodnight! Yes it's 7 a.m. and it's only ok to say goodnight at this ungodly hour in Vegas or some other debaucherous place, but not in a small town in the great Commonwealth of Massachusetts, and especially when the name of that town is Plainville.
Oh yeah, Tom Cruise has ALWAYS been bat shit (bat shit, not batshit, for those scoring at home) crazy, why is everyone so surprised by the last couple years?
Friday, June 10, 2011
There's shitty movies, and then.....
....there are complete abortions. Picture this. You're at the movies, waiting for the Hangover part 2 to start, and you see that beautiful green screen that says this preview is appropriate for all ages, or some such shit. And you're thinking, "Fucking sweet, I love previews...let's see what you got Hollywood! Make me whisper to whoever is next to me....Yo, that looks AWESOME!" How many previews have we all seen in our lives...hundreds? Thousands? How many did you say...."That looks good, I'd see that! Can't wait for Blue Crush 2 to come out, that looks fucking sweet!" Pretty much all of them, right?
Now picture this, today, not the early 90's....wait, were any of you even alive in the early 90's? Whatever, fuck you. Anyways, on to the previews....
"International superstars, Christopher Reid and Christopher Martin, aka Kid 'n' Play star in what is already being called the greatest blockbuster of 1992." Now it shows the obligatory shots of these two clowns..."One is a nerdy douche bag with retarded hair, even for the early 90's....the other is a bullying hard-ass from deep in the ghetto." More shots of....you know what, I don't even know what the fuck they'd show for the preview...that's what's messed up. What did they even show on the screen? "When they're mistaken for each other......awwwwwwww damn! Shit gets CRRRRRRRAZY!!"
"Siskel and Ebert give Class Act two thumbs up.....WAY up....M.C Hammer says you can't touch this movie (the song is actually in the movie, look it up)....Winner of the Cannes Film Festival Best Actor and Best Screenplay awards....Quite possibly the greatest movie ever to grace the big screen-James Lipton"
Did you know that Pauly Shore is in this movie? This movie was ACTUALLY released in theaters....also, Hilary from Fresh Prince of Bell Air and Adelle from Grey's Anatomy are both in this movie.
Wasn't the civil rights movement taking place in the 60's? What the fuck? This movie single-handedly set progress back half a century. Did whoever wrote this piece of shit stop and think, "You know what, fuck black people!" I'm convinced that Class Act, (and racist cops, obviously) were the main reasons for the L.A. riots. How did these guys NOT become as famous as say, Will Smith?
To my original point, would you see the preview for this movie today and whisper to whoever was next to you, "Dude, that movie looks like the shit, I can't wait for that to come OUT!" Probably....cause we're all suckers.
Well, once upon a time, it happened....people saw this preview at the movies and thought to themselves..."I'd see that shit!" Don't even get me started on Sister Act 2, Back in the Habit. Really? Sister Act needed a sequel?
By the way, not to ruin it, but it turns out BOTH guys can actually rap in the movie! It just took Play to make Kid realize what he had inside of him the whole time! I guess when it comes right down to it, it's a touching film about the most unlikely friends bringing out the best in each other and everyone wants to butt fuck everyone else by the end of the movie. (Can you believe spell check just made me separate buttfuck into two words? It didn't completely dismiss the words butt and fuck...it just wanted me to not use them as one word....sorry that made me laugh a little.)
Anyways, Netflix this shit and watch the whole thing....you won't be disappointed.
Did I just watch the entire movie on Starz?....you're gat damn right I did!....My eyes are actually bleeding. It's either from pure, deep, evil emotion deep inside, or I just subconsciously tried to gouge them out with a dull spoon.
Should I insert some memorable quotes at this point?...Trust me, I tried, but honestly I'm just embarrassed. I will say this, it ends with both Kid and Play on the screen with just a white backdrop behind them actually trying to explain what just happened, with Kid eventually saying, "It's over! Stop it...fade to black, fade to black!" Very true...and easily the smartest line of the whole movie. I think if they could have seen the future of their respective careers, they would have rethought the last line....
By the way, I use this a lot....the three periods....between thoughts....I forget what they're called....don't try to correct me....and say that they don't belong...there...just deal with it.
Anyways, don't judge me, people, I'm drunk. And I'm outta here...Scream 3 is about to start!
Now picture this, today, not the early 90's....wait, were any of you even alive in the early 90's? Whatever, fuck you. Anyways, on to the previews....
"International superstars, Christopher Reid and Christopher Martin, aka Kid 'n' Play star in what is already being called the greatest blockbuster of 1992." Now it shows the obligatory shots of these two clowns..."One is a nerdy douche bag with retarded hair, even for the early 90's....the other is a bullying hard-ass from deep in the ghetto." More shots of....you know what, I don't even know what the fuck they'd show for the preview...that's what's messed up. What did they even show on the screen? "When they're mistaken for each other......awwwwwwww damn! Shit gets CRRRRRRRAZY!!"
"Siskel and Ebert give Class Act two thumbs up.....WAY up....M.C Hammer says you can't touch this movie (the song is actually in the movie, look it up)....Winner of the Cannes Film Festival Best Actor and Best Screenplay awards....Quite possibly the greatest movie ever to grace the big screen-James Lipton"
Did you know that Pauly Shore is in this movie? This movie was ACTUALLY released in theaters....also, Hilary from Fresh Prince of Bell Air and Adelle from Grey's Anatomy are both in this movie.
Wasn't the civil rights movement taking place in the 60's? What the fuck? This movie single-handedly set progress back half a century. Did whoever wrote this piece of shit stop and think, "You know what, fuck black people!" I'm convinced that Class Act, (and racist cops, obviously) were the main reasons for the L.A. riots. How did these guys NOT become as famous as say, Will Smith?
To my original point, would you see the preview for this movie today and whisper to whoever was next to you, "Dude, that movie looks like the shit, I can't wait for that to come OUT!" Probably....cause we're all suckers.
Well, once upon a time, it happened....people saw this preview at the movies and thought to themselves..."I'd see that shit!" Don't even get me started on Sister Act 2, Back in the Habit. Really? Sister Act needed a sequel?
By the way, not to ruin it, but it turns out BOTH guys can actually rap in the movie! It just took Play to make Kid realize what he had inside of him the whole time! I guess when it comes right down to it, it's a touching film about the most unlikely friends bringing out the best in each other and everyone wants to butt fuck everyone else by the end of the movie. (Can you believe spell check just made me separate buttfuck into two words? It didn't completely dismiss the words butt and fuck...it just wanted me to not use them as one word....sorry that made me laugh a little.)
Anyways, Netflix this shit and watch the whole thing....you won't be disappointed.
Did I just watch the entire movie on Starz?....you're gat damn right I did!....My eyes are actually bleeding. It's either from pure, deep, evil emotion deep inside, or I just subconsciously tried to gouge them out with a dull spoon.
Should I insert some memorable quotes at this point?...Trust me, I tried, but honestly I'm just embarrassed. I will say this, it ends with both Kid and Play on the screen with just a white backdrop behind them actually trying to explain what just happened, with Kid eventually saying, "It's over! Stop it...fade to black, fade to black!" Very true...and easily the smartest line of the whole movie. I think if they could have seen the future of their respective careers, they would have rethought the last line....
By the way, I use this a lot....the three periods....between thoughts....I forget what they're called....don't try to correct me....and say that they don't belong...there...just deal with it.
Anyways, don't judge me, people, I'm drunk. And I'm outta here...Scream 3 is about to start!
You're Welcome Readers....
Being the best at something isn't easy...it takes years of hard work, a great deal of trial and error, and even a bit of luck. Depending on what it is one is the best at, it could also take great physical prowess, or a high IQ, or ridiculous patience, or rich parents. Sometimes, it could also take a lack of talent, attributes, or environment to be the best. For example, a lack of attractiveness, lack of social acceptance, or a lack of weapons in your parents' closet can also lead to being the best at something.
People can also be born with the talent, or lack thereof, to be the best. Many pro atheletes are just born bigger, taller, or blessed with more speed, or whatever, in order for them to get to where they are. Some people are so ugly or annoying, that they have no choice to be the best at something...otherwise Darwinism takes over and they just die off....leaving us with no C.E.O.s of corporations, no scientists, and no foreigners to answer the phones in call centers.
And then there are those who are so batshit crazy that they are, or at least think they are, the best at any given thing, or maybe even everything. This is the category I fall under....so you're welcome readers, you are in for what will surely go down in history as the greatest thing to happen to the internet since free porn sites.
And if it doesn't, I'm sure I'll hear about it, and not care...so stand by for some thoughts (diarreah of the brain) from me, Vinny...I'm sure you'll find me to be a complete asshole who has no idea what I'm doing, but whatever...any idiot can post shit on the internet, so why not....
People can also be born with the talent, or lack thereof, to be the best. Many pro atheletes are just born bigger, taller, or blessed with more speed, or whatever, in order for them to get to where they are. Some people are so ugly or annoying, that they have no choice to be the best at something...otherwise Darwinism takes over and they just die off....leaving us with no C.E.O.s of corporations, no scientists, and no foreigners to answer the phones in call centers.
And then there are those who are so batshit crazy that they are, or at least think they are, the best at any given thing, or maybe even everything. This is the category I fall under....so you're welcome readers, you are in for what will surely go down in history as the greatest thing to happen to the internet since free porn sites.
And if it doesn't, I'm sure I'll hear about it, and not care...so stand by for some thoughts (diarreah of the brain) from me, Vinny...I'm sure you'll find me to be a complete asshole who has no idea what I'm doing, but whatever...any idiot can post shit on the internet, so why not....
I'm sorry I Killed Your Dog By Feeding it Ecstasy
I'm not sure there's really much more to be said, the title pretty much speaks for itself.
We've all done crazy things in our lives, especially when we're young, dumb, and full of psychoactive narcotics. If you've ever taken the drug ecstasy, you pretty much get it, right? You feel awesome, but your motor skills and overall presence of mind is exponentially diminished. Add to the fact that they're like Lays potato chips in the fact that once you've had one, more than likely you're going to want to have more.
On one such occasion, as I was fumbling around for another pill that I just spent my last $20 on, (that was a lot of money back then), I dropped it on the kitchen floor of my friend's apartment. Since your eyes can barely focus when you're fucked up on that evil shit, I inevitably lost sight of the rogue pill, even after hearing it clickity clack a couple times on the hard laminate floor. I looked and looked for that little fucker, growing more and more irritated before exiting the kitchen to employ the services of my also fucked up friends to look for it. We looked under the fridge, under the dishwasher, under the door jam...no little green pill. All the while, oblivious to the rest of us, my buddy's black lab had been wandering around the kitchen. Thinking nothing of the fact that a dog would bother to eat a tablet that tastes like an aspirin that's been festering up an old man's ass for a week, we didn't really think he was a threat to eat the missing pill.
Needless to say, we never found the ecstasy. The dog, after spending the evening in an unusually, wierdly calm manner, got sick soon after that night and passed away about a month later....whoops. I'll go to my grave thinking that the formerly beautiful, friendly, well groomed beast choked down a pill not meant to be consumed by a K-9, got some wierd cancer or something, and passed on to the flip-side. Though I feel bad, I can only hope that he enjoyed rolling his snipped balls off, at least for one night.
We've all done crazy things in our lives, especially when we're young, dumb, and full of psychoactive narcotics. If you've ever taken the drug ecstasy, you pretty much get it, right? You feel awesome, but your motor skills and overall presence of mind is exponentially diminished. Add to the fact that they're like Lays potato chips in the fact that once you've had one, more than likely you're going to want to have more.
On one such occasion, as I was fumbling around for another pill that I just spent my last $20 on, (that was a lot of money back then), I dropped it on the kitchen floor of my friend's apartment. Since your eyes can barely focus when you're fucked up on that evil shit, I inevitably lost sight of the rogue pill, even after hearing it clickity clack a couple times on the hard laminate floor. I looked and looked for that little fucker, growing more and more irritated before exiting the kitchen to employ the services of my also fucked up friends to look for it. We looked under the fridge, under the dishwasher, under the door jam...no little green pill. All the while, oblivious to the rest of us, my buddy's black lab had been wandering around the kitchen. Thinking nothing of the fact that a dog would bother to eat a tablet that tastes like an aspirin that's been festering up an old man's ass for a week, we didn't really think he was a threat to eat the missing pill.
Needless to say, we never found the ecstasy. The dog, after spending the evening in an unusually, wierdly calm manner, got sick soon after that night and passed away about a month later....whoops. I'll go to my grave thinking that the formerly beautiful, friendly, well groomed beast choked down a pill not meant to be consumed by a K-9, got some wierd cancer or something, and passed on to the flip-side. Though I feel bad, I can only hope that he enjoyed rolling his snipped balls off, at least for one night.
Thursday, June 9, 2011
Weapon of Mass Destruction
Every guy, (fuck that, every girl too), has heard of having to "take one for the team." Those retards on the Jersey Shore made this famous by using the term grenade. A grenade, of course, is usually the fat ugly friend who has latched on to a more attractive girl like a leech in order to get some sex from a guy who would, under normal circumstances, not even glance at her. It doesn't work the other way, however. If you're a fat, ugly dude, you probably aren't getting laid unless you have a ton of money, or you go after an equally fat, ugly chick.
The main reason for this is the bond that best guy friends form and the willingness of guys to have each other's back, in ways that women can't begin to understand. This is true until one's "best friend" forces you to fuck a grenade so horrendous that she can only be described as a WMD. This happened to me once, and will definitely never happen again.
I knew it was a bad idea when my roommate was trying to get me to go with him so that he could try to bang a bartender he had met at work and described simply as a "10." Going with the rules of society, 10 had a friend and 10 wouldn't hang out unless my roommate had someone to come keep her friend company. Being the good friend and wing man that I was, I said, "Fine...I'll go and keep her company while you do your thing, but at least tell me she's tolerable to look at." Now I'm not a completely superficial asshole, but there IS a line. So when my roommate answered my question with a goofy smirk and, "She seems really cool," a red flag went up immediately. I didn't even have to say anything, but I gave him the look like, "Are you fucking kidding me?" He laughed his ass off...."Dude, she's a 10, c'mon!" After much debate with myself, but not wanting to break the guy code, I got dressed and headed out to what would surely be an unforgettable, unmitigated nightmare.
My friend and I met 10, (and she definitely was a 10) and who you'd have to call her "girlfriend," for the simple fact that she miraculously didn't have a penis, at the bar. Upon my first glance, the horror quickly set in that this would surely be the most miserable night of my life. I tried to suck it up and keep this troll occupied while my buddy did his best to get 10 to come home without having to resort to Rufalin and date rape.. I staggered through the night, trying to stay interested in what WMD was saying....(yeah, she was annoying too)....while my roommate was dry humping 10 for the next three hours.
I knew what was coming. It was clear as day. Roommate would ask 10 to come home, 10 would tell him that she couldn't leave her troll friend and that she'd have to come too, and good old wing man Vinny would have to continue to degrade himself to give roommate a chance at banging this smoking hot bartender, personality of a kid with downs syndrome notwithstanding. Needless to say, this is exactly what happened and the 4 of us went back home.
It wasn't long before roommate had 10 in his bedroom....and there we were, just me and WMD left in the living room. I tried every excuse in the book to attempt to get myself out of the situation. "I have to work early tomorrow." "I have to go with my sister to get her dog euthanized." "I'm thinking of offing myself, so I gotta fill my script in the morning and swallow the entire bottle of pills." "I have AIDS." Nothing worked....WMD was undeterred. This was going down whether I liked it or not.
I excused myself, went to our bathroom, threw water on my face and took a long look in the mirror. My pep talk went something like this...."You gotta do this Vin....that girl in roommate's bed is way to hot for me to fuck it up. You're going to get back out there, drink as much tequila as you can stomach, and fuck WMD for your best friend, because he would surely do it for you."
Destroying any dignity and self-respect that I had in my soul, I went to my room, practically dragged by WMD, and had at it. I was only able to accomplish this by completely emptying my mind and picturing myself in a far off land, with someone, anyone, other than WMD. The entire time, (and trust me, I made it as brief as possible), I was somewhat comforted by the fact that roommate was having some incredible sex with an incredibly beautiful bartender. "I'll be a fucking hero! He'll owe me for life for this! At least it will be a funny story!"
After we were done and Troll fell asleep and started snoring like a 300 pound diabetes patient who smoked a pack of Marlboros every day. I crawled on my floor to a nearby trash basket and literally threw up everything in my stomach. I then left my room, hating myself for what I did, and slept restlessly out on the couch. I woke up at about 6 a.m. and left. I didn't give a fuck if Troll stole every one of my possessions...as long as I never had to look at her or talk to her again.
Later in the day I returned home and took a shower, scrubbing myself as if I'd been gang raped by a group of homeless guys in the back of a 1987 Plymouth Horizon hatchback. When roommate came home from what I could only think of a trip in which he bragged about the previous night's exploits, I of course asked him how 10 was last night.
"I don't know man, she fucking passed out on me as soon as we got into my bed, can you believe that shit? How did it go with you? I could here you puking." I just looked at him. He laughed. I didn't.
The main reason for this is the bond that best guy friends form and the willingness of guys to have each other's back, in ways that women can't begin to understand. This is true until one's "best friend" forces you to fuck a grenade so horrendous that she can only be described as a WMD. This happened to me once, and will definitely never happen again.
I knew it was a bad idea when my roommate was trying to get me to go with him so that he could try to bang a bartender he had met at work and described simply as a "10." Going with the rules of society, 10 had a friend and 10 wouldn't hang out unless my roommate had someone to come keep her friend company. Being the good friend and wing man that I was, I said, "Fine...I'll go and keep her company while you do your thing, but at least tell me she's tolerable to look at." Now I'm not a completely superficial asshole, but there IS a line. So when my roommate answered my question with a goofy smirk and, "She seems really cool," a red flag went up immediately. I didn't even have to say anything, but I gave him the look like, "Are you fucking kidding me?" He laughed his ass off...."Dude, she's a 10, c'mon!" After much debate with myself, but not wanting to break the guy code, I got dressed and headed out to what would surely be an unforgettable, unmitigated nightmare.
My friend and I met 10, (and she definitely was a 10) and who you'd have to call her "girlfriend," for the simple fact that she miraculously didn't have a penis, at the bar. Upon my first glance, the horror quickly set in that this would surely be the most miserable night of my life. I tried to suck it up and keep this troll occupied while my buddy did his best to get 10 to come home without having to resort to Rufalin and date rape.. I staggered through the night, trying to stay interested in what WMD was saying....(yeah, she was annoying too)....while my roommate was dry humping 10 for the next three hours.
I knew what was coming. It was clear as day. Roommate would ask 10 to come home, 10 would tell him that she couldn't leave her troll friend and that she'd have to come too, and good old wing man Vinny would have to continue to degrade himself to give roommate a chance at banging this smoking hot bartender, personality of a kid with downs syndrome notwithstanding. Needless to say, this is exactly what happened and the 4 of us went back home.
It wasn't long before roommate had 10 in his bedroom....and there we were, just me and WMD left in the living room. I tried every excuse in the book to attempt to get myself out of the situation. "I have to work early tomorrow." "I have to go with my sister to get her dog euthanized." "I'm thinking of offing myself, so I gotta fill my script in the morning and swallow the entire bottle of pills." "I have AIDS." Nothing worked....WMD was undeterred. This was going down whether I liked it or not.
I excused myself, went to our bathroom, threw water on my face and took a long look in the mirror. My pep talk went something like this...."You gotta do this Vin....that girl in roommate's bed is way to hot for me to fuck it up. You're going to get back out there, drink as much tequila as you can stomach, and fuck WMD for your best friend, because he would surely do it for you."
Destroying any dignity and self-respect that I had in my soul, I went to my room, practically dragged by WMD, and had at it. I was only able to accomplish this by completely emptying my mind and picturing myself in a far off land, with someone, anyone, other than WMD. The entire time, (and trust me, I made it as brief as possible), I was somewhat comforted by the fact that roommate was having some incredible sex with an incredibly beautiful bartender. "I'll be a fucking hero! He'll owe me for life for this! At least it will be a funny story!"
After we were done and Troll fell asleep and started snoring like a 300 pound diabetes patient who smoked a pack of Marlboros every day. I crawled on my floor to a nearby trash basket and literally threw up everything in my stomach. I then left my room, hating myself for what I did, and slept restlessly out on the couch. I woke up at about 6 a.m. and left. I didn't give a fuck if Troll stole every one of my possessions...as long as I never had to look at her or talk to her again.
Later in the day I returned home and took a shower, scrubbing myself as if I'd been gang raped by a group of homeless guys in the back of a 1987 Plymouth Horizon hatchback. When roommate came home from what I could only think of a trip in which he bragged about the previous night's exploits, I of course asked him how 10 was last night.
"I don't know man, she fucking passed out on me as soon as we got into my bed, can you believe that shit? How did it go with you? I could here you puking." I just looked at him. He laughed. I didn't.
Technology is Gay
Hey iPhone,
Just who in the fuck do you think you are? First of all, what's with the lower case "i" and then a capitalized "Phone." I love shitty grammar just as much as the next guy, but this rubs me the wrong way.
You know what me and my friends did before all this technology came out? We got shitfaced and/or high and shot squirrels with a bb gun. Then we ventured out into the woods and confirmed our kills. Now we hang out and everyone has their face buried in their fucking phones downloading aps and playing retarded games, sometimes even with each other from across the room. What the fuck happened to just shooting the shit, snowboarding, going out to a bar or playing pickup basketball? We'd go out and chase ass or go to the driving range. I'm not saying the iPhone has completely stopped us from doing these things, but still.
I went camping last summer with some of my buddies and the only reason they weren't fucking around with their phones is because there wasn't electricity.
Nobody calls to talk on the phone or make plans...everything is texting. Sure it's convenient, but where does it stop? The way things are going, technology advances like facebook and twitter and every other way to get in touch with people will only get more advanced. Soon we won't have to talk to or see anyone in person at all.
Alright, I'm stepping down off my soap box now. I'm just getting some minor things out of the way...I got some heavy stuff in the works, ha!
Just who in the fuck do you think you are? First of all, what's with the lower case "i" and then a capitalized "Phone." I love shitty grammar just as much as the next guy, but this rubs me the wrong way.
You know what me and my friends did before all this technology came out? We got shitfaced and/or high and shot squirrels with a bb gun. Then we ventured out into the woods and confirmed our kills. Now we hang out and everyone has their face buried in their fucking phones downloading aps and playing retarded games, sometimes even with each other from across the room. What the fuck happened to just shooting the shit, snowboarding, going out to a bar or playing pickup basketball? We'd go out and chase ass or go to the driving range. I'm not saying the iPhone has completely stopped us from doing these things, but still.
I went camping last summer with some of my buddies and the only reason they weren't fucking around with their phones is because there wasn't electricity.
Nobody calls to talk on the phone or make plans...everything is texting. Sure it's convenient, but where does it stop? The way things are going, technology advances like facebook and twitter and every other way to get in touch with people will only get more advanced. Soon we won't have to talk to or see anyone in person at all.
Alright, I'm stepping down off my soap box now. I'm just getting some minor things out of the way...I got some heavy stuff in the works, ha!
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
My Friend's Brush with Death
Getting hit by a car isn't that bad, really.
Who the fuck crosses the road without looking both ways? Isn't that like the first thing we learn on this Earth as soon as we start walking outside the safety of your home? Your parents say, "Look both ways before crossing the road!" It's ingrained into your very being. If you're retarded, like my buddy, you just say "You gotta time it just right..." and just go. Now this would work out just fine if you're messing around in a cul-de-sac or down a residential, dead-end street where the only traffic are 97 year old women returning from the pharmacy, soccer moms in minivans, and sexual predators looking for some fresh meat. When it's a major, state highway...not so much.
In this particular instance, the road in question happened to be a major, state highway, in the grand Commonwealth of Massachusetts, (where most people, not me though, are terrible drivers) and it was following a high school football game where about 94% of the drivers on the road were completely shitfaced or high. Yeah, good idea dip shit, just fly your ass across the road without looking, you'll be fine.
To make the story as brief as possible, my buddy was looking to his left, where, admittedly, most of the traffic WAS coming from, and exclaimed, "You gotta time it just right!" Also, admittedly, he DID time it just right, deftly maneuvering through the eastbound traffic. He didn't look to his right, a BMW driven by a horrified young woman, screeched and slowed down before clipping my genius friend. If he had started his almost fateful journey across the road a split second later than he did, he'd have been smashed into flush and thrown like a fucking beanbag a half mile down the street, surely ending his life. In that situation, a friend could only hope that his death was quick and painless, and grateful that his DNA was never passed on to any offspring. As it turned out, he ran when he did, and just caught the driver's side mirror, got spun around in the air, and landed mostly on his feet as the driver, along with me and my brother, who logically stayed on the side of the road, stared and screamed in horror. I told him that if he was killed I would have made sure that "You gotta time it just right!" was inscribed on his tombstone.
Anyways, I'm sorry future generations, for possibly having to deal with the genealogy of my buddy, who is the only person I know to cross a highway, get hit by a car going 40 miles per hour, and live to get his balls constantly busted by the whole ordeal. Thanks fuck-face.
The main reason I put this up here is because my friend is incapable of telling this story himself.
Who the fuck crosses the road without looking both ways? Isn't that like the first thing we learn on this Earth as soon as we start walking outside the safety of your home? Your parents say, "Look both ways before crossing the road!" It's ingrained into your very being. If you're retarded, like my buddy, you just say "You gotta time it just right..." and just go. Now this would work out just fine if you're messing around in a cul-de-sac or down a residential, dead-end street where the only traffic are 97 year old women returning from the pharmacy, soccer moms in minivans, and sexual predators looking for some fresh meat. When it's a major, state highway...not so much.
In this particular instance, the road in question happened to be a major, state highway, in the grand Commonwealth of Massachusetts, (where most people, not me though, are terrible drivers) and it was following a high school football game where about 94% of the drivers on the road were completely shitfaced or high. Yeah, good idea dip shit, just fly your ass across the road without looking, you'll be fine.
To make the story as brief as possible, my buddy was looking to his left, where, admittedly, most of the traffic WAS coming from, and exclaimed, "You gotta time it just right!" Also, admittedly, he DID time it just right, deftly maneuvering through the eastbound traffic. He didn't look to his right, a BMW driven by a horrified young woman, screeched and slowed down before clipping my genius friend. If he had started his almost fateful journey across the road a split second later than he did, he'd have been smashed into flush and thrown like a fucking beanbag a half mile down the street, surely ending his life. In that situation, a friend could only hope that his death was quick and painless, and grateful that his DNA was never passed on to any offspring. As it turned out, he ran when he did, and just caught the driver's side mirror, got spun around in the air, and landed mostly on his feet as the driver, along with me and my brother, who logically stayed on the side of the road, stared and screamed in horror. I told him that if he was killed I would have made sure that "You gotta time it just right!" was inscribed on his tombstone.
Anyways, I'm sorry future generations, for possibly having to deal with the genealogy of my buddy, who is the only person I know to cross a highway, get hit by a car going 40 miles per hour, and live to get his balls constantly busted by the whole ordeal. Thanks fuck-face.
The main reason I put this up here is because my friend is incapable of telling this story himself.
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