2011 was an interesting year on a worldwide scale. Osama Bin Laden was killed in a ballsy special forces operation; the Boston Bruins won the Stanley Cup; Dallas, TX didn't see rain and had temperatures in the triple digits for like a thousand straight days; the crazy weather affected us here in the northeast, which included one of the snowiest winters on record, several tornadoes, a hurricane, and what seemed like endless flooding everywhere. We even felt an earthquake in some locations up here. There was a wedding in England that for some reason millions of people gave a shit about. War operations were finally ended in Iraq and all U.S. troops were removed. I must have been pre-occupied for most of the year, since my entire memory of the year is basically made up in the few sentences above. Shit was wild!
I won't even get into my own personal yearly review, because it will just shock and depress most people. What I will do; however, is make some bold, and not-so-bold, predictions for the upcoming year. I know you could probably google "2012 predictions" and come up with a million different articles or whatever, but I figured it wouldn't hurt to entertain both of my faithful readers with my own version. (It's kind of funny, this site breaks down where people log in from to read my blog, and there are actually people in different countries who, probably by accident, clicked on my page. Some of the countries include, (seriously): Latvia, The Netherlands, Turkey, Malaysia, and India. There have been 24 hits from Russia and 14 from Germany...so thanks to all my international "fans."
Anyways, on to my predictions!
The world will NOT end. Fuck you ancient Mayans! What do you guys know? Who do you think you are, anyways?
The year will have 366 days in it.
My ex-wives will have a no-holds bar, steel cage, pay-per-view battle to the death, ending in what will be forever known as "The Rumble of Vinnie's Bungles."
Peyton Manning will sign with the Colts, be traded to the Washington Redskins for draft picks, and the Colts will draft Andrew Luck.
Brett Favre will subsequently come out of retirement and play for the Colts when Luck suffers a career-ending, karma-pleasing leg injury.
My buddies B-Ride, Merph, Nails, and Slatz will all either get married or engaged, forever ending our hardcore shenanigans and forcing us to resort to "married shenanigans." It will be the equivalent of watching The Hangover on it's network television debut as opposed to watching the unrated version on blue ray.
My brother Joey and my divorced buddy Eazy will subsequently bust their balls, causing undo strain on each relationship and possibly ending at least one marriage.
The Honey Badgers fantasy football team will win the Dynasty '12 league and the second annual Lord Haggard's Cup.
Dick Clark will finally be dragged away from any and all television cameras. The American public will be told that he's been brought to a farm where there are giant fields of television cameras as far as the eye can see and microphones growing out of the ground. A farm where there are barn houses full of dressing rooms and makeup technicians who will spend hours making him look not a day over 97. He'll be happy there.
My girlfriend will punch me in the face. I've never been domestically abused before and I feel like I'm probably asking for it.
The U.S. will make progress towards using our own natural resources such as corn stalks to synthesize fuel and finally move us in a direction to depend less on foreign oil and use a cleaner burning, efficient energy source.
There will be hope to reverse the greenhouse effect, even though we'll still be spun stories of the doom and gloom of worst-case scenarios that we're always given, leading us to believe that the average daily temperature will be somewhere around 112 degrees by the year 2050 or something ridiculous like that. I understand the math behind projections, but I also believe that the human race is smart enough to avoid things getting so bad that we're incapable of fixing things.
AIDS will be completely cured in countries where God hasn't forgotten. Somewhere, Magic Johnson will giggle.
A celebrity or famous athlete will be assassinated by an obsessed fan. (We're due.) A movie will be in the works regarding the entire ordeal within weeks of it going down.
A major earthquake will hit California. (Again, we're due. Sorry California, just playing the odds.)
Jimmy Fallon will finally, mercifully, be cancelled and never be heard from again. There will be no farm for him to go to. In fact, if there's any justice at all, Jimmy Fallon will wake up every day like Bill Murray in the movie Groundhog Day. Each day will be the same. He'll be the producer of a live sketch comedy show where he'll be in charge of trying to keep the actors from laughing like complete idiot assholes during each and every skit. He'll find it kind of cutesy and amusing the first few times, or when something REALLY funny happens in the context of the skit and a little slip of a giggle is called for. He'll finally be driven insane when each of the actors laughs and/or forgets their line during every skit. He'll eventually lose his own ability to even crack a smile. His agent will try to find a serious movie role for him, but he'll be exposed for the talentless assclown that he is and will spend the rest of his soon to be short ass life immersed in a cloud of depression.
I will either file for, or come very close to filing for bankruptcy.
One of my close friends will accidentally knock somebody up and have to go through unwanted baby drama.
The United States will win the most medals in the summer Olympics in London.
A prominent professional athlete will declare that he is gay and will be thought of as a hero....except in the south.
Someone in Montana will win a $200 million lottery and wind up blowing through most of the lump sum payout that he will surely take, gambling away the rest, killing his wife and marrying a woman 20 years younger than him because she "truly" loves him. He'll generally ruin his life and end up on one of those shows like 48 hour mysteries and leading people to believe that winning the lottery is a bad thing when clearly it's not.
My pro sports predictions using only my heart to choose: Super Bowl Champions, New England Patriots 37-San Fransisco 49ers 24; Stanley Cup Champions, Boston Bruins defeat Chicago Blackhawks 4 games to 1; Boston Celtics defeat Oklahoma City Thunder 4 games to 2; World Series Champions, Boston Red Sox defeat Washington Nationals 4 games to 3.
Now my slightly more realistic yet unequivocally biased predictions because I'm incapable of even intelligently picking against my teams in a forum such as this, as you'll see in a minute: Super Bowl Champions, New England Patriots 28-San Fransisco 49ers 27; Stanley Cup Champions, Boston Bruins defeat Chicago Blackhawks 4 games to 1; Miami Heat defeat Oklahoma City Thunder 4 games to 0; World Series Champions, Washington Nationals defeat Los Angeles Angels 4 games to 2.
Bill Simmons, who has been a columnist for ESPN.com for many years and now has his own website, http://www.grantland.com/; is known as the Boston Sports Guy. I've been reading him since I was a teenager and his columns are ALWAYS excellent. He's very funny and knows his sports, but he also sprinkles in some good stuff about movies and pop culture and other various things. He is obviously a big Boston sports fan, yet he writes for an obviously national sports conglomerate. His Boston bias comes out in his writing, and he doesn't try to hide it, but he is able to actually put his bias aside when writing about sports and express his feelings even about his beloved Boston teams, even if it honestly paints them in a truthfully honest picture, which is why he's paid 7 figures and I write on a free blog to my facebook friends. I'm not able to do it, for some reason. I can't even do it when I really try. Hey, at least I admit it and even had the wherewithal to make 1 outrageous sports prediction and then one slightly less off the charts, full blown biased bullshit prediction. I digress. I strongly recommend you check out Bill Simmons' columns, both his current stuff on Grantland.com, and also his archived columns. There are links to all of his columns on espn.com. He's got great sports stuff but also writes about movies, celebrities and his trips to Vegas with his buddies. Good stuff, very funny.
Mitt Romney will finally be elected President. Our country will continue to lack the leadership it's lacked since the Reagan administration. Our country will remain the greatest in the world in spite of our government and it's politicians, not because of them. The good, hardworking citizens and the individuals who comprise our military will be what make us great. The parents who provide for their children, the teachers and professors who educate our future generations will be what make us great. The firemen and women and police officers and national guard soldiers and coast guard soldiers who keep us safe will be what make us great. The 16 year old kids who bag our groceries and cook our Big Mac's instead of hanging out at the town common smoking cigarettes will be what makes us great. The kids who play sports and do well in school and make their parents proud so that it reminds people why they make themselves good role models and in turn will teach their kids to be good role models in the future will be what makes us great. The people who choose common sense over political correctness will be what makes us great. No doubt; however, come next Christmas season, idiots will stay say "Happy Holidays!" instead of "Merry Christmas!"
Oh well, 2012 is going to be great for Vinny Mac for a couple reasons. The first is that there's no way it could possibly be worse than 2011, at least in it's totality. The more tangible reasons that 2012 will be great for me? My kids will grow another year and I'll be able to experience another year of raising them and watching them grow and learn and having the privilege of helping to shape their lives and experience their continued individual personality traits that continue to come through in each of them. I get along with their mom, which, trust me, is way less stressful than the alternative. I'm starting a new job doing something I love. A guy who works for a publishing company somehow got his hands on my blog and wants me to turn my rants into a book. It smells like bullshit to me, and I doubt I'll have the time or energy to write anything more than the occasional blog entry, but maybe I can at least use it to lie and say I'm a famous writer, no? Lastly, I managed to trick a girl into thinking I'm pretty awesome and fall in love with me, (sucker), which is nice because I'm thinking I kinda dig her too. She's rich, so it's good timing for me financially. I'll basically be able to get as much money out of her as possible before she realizes what an asshole I am, haha! Oh, don't worry, my new publisher friend who I hired with her money assured me that he'd edit this entire last paragraph, so she'll never read any of this. He thought it might be a good idea to write my TRUE feelings from time to time in my blogs. He said something about how it will keep my head fresh or something. Whatever, what harm could it do, right?
Happy 2012 everyone! Especially my beautiful, intelligent, witty new girlfriend, who has an amazing sense of humor and gets me, which isn't an easy thing to do. I love you!
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
No Thanks, I Don't Want Any Crack
The trials and tribulations of a Private Investigator can be both hilarious and terrifying. And boring as fuck. We'll focus on the hilarious and terrifying portions of the job, for the purpose of this entry. To give those of you who don't know a little background, Private Investigators are hired for a number of reasons. In their most basic terms, they are hired for insurance fraud or insurance fraud prevention, workers compensation claims, and domestic cases, (those are the real fun ones, where some rich c***t will call us and have us watch her husband cheating on her.) Good times!
During one particularly brisk morning in the grand city of Lawrence, MA, yours truly was set up to perform surveillance on a side street at 6 a.m. If you're white and just sitting in a parked car on a side street in Lawrence, you're a cop...except I'm not a cop. Armed with only a taser, a young fellow who looked less than reputable approached my car. Barely cracking my driver's side window, I said in the most ghetto voice I could muster. "What's up."
"Are you a cop."
"Nah dude."
"Ya'll want some crack."
"Ahhh....no thanks, I don't want any crack."
"Well what the fuck you doin' here?"
"I work for an insurance company, just looking for a car to go by." (I obviously didn't want to tell him that I was watching for one of his homies.)
"How 'bout you git the fuck outta here."
"No problem, I was just leaving."
It's not that I was afraid, (ok, maybe a little), but I had been in this same situation a bunch of times. It was just something about the guy coming strait out and asking if I wanted crack that kind of "got" me. I laughed as I drove away and called my boss. "Hey Gator, if you want some crack I found a good connects here in Lawrence."
"I'm all set Vin, thanks anyways."
One time I drove down to Fall River and had to find out if a woman was working at an African Hair Braiding salon and spa. I approached the door and walked in like I had been in an African Hair Braiding salon and spa a thousand times. "How's it going? I was looking to get a gift certificate for my girl." I had never seen a more confused face staring back at me. The black woman behind the counter was nearly speechless. After making some small talk, I was given a business card which read, "African Hair Braiding, specializing in all kinds of braids. Corn Rows-Kinky Twists-Micro Invisible-No Knots-Flat Twist-Weaves-And Many More." Seriously, that's on the card, I have it right in front of me. What the hell could "And Many More" mean, I thought.
I had a gun pulled on me in Dorchester, MA....and my car needed a jump. THAT was a fun conversation.
One guy who I was supervising at the time lived in Detroit and was boxed in by three other cars. He literally had to smash his way out of there, cause the cops sure as shit weren't gonna get there in time to save his white ass.
Another guy came out of his house wielding both a baseball bat and a golf club. "Why does he need both?" I thought. I actually let this joker get to my car. (A little inside information, by the way, we never sit in front of the house of the person we're watching, that would be stupid, so normally it's the neighbors we have to deal with.) I rolled my window down. "Can I help you insane fuck head?" I actually asked, "Can I help you good citizen?"
"Why are you here?"
"Before I tell you, are you gonna use either one of those weapons on me or my vehicle."
"It depends."
"Well here's my answer then...I'm working. That's all I need to tell you. Go call the cops and ask them, I checked in with them this morning. So before you run out here in your bathrobe wielding weapons like an asshole, why don't you go through the proper channels first. Sound good?"
"So the cops know you're out here?"
"Here's my cell phone, wanna call them."
He walked away, most likely feeling like a fool. Ha, neigbors! The P.I.'s natural enemy. They are like the snake to our mongoose.
I flew to California to watch a plastic surgeon, who "couldn't perform his duties" any longer. I watched this fool for five strait days drive his BMW to work, walk in with scrubs on, and take note of all the patients entering. On the last day of surveillance, I walked into the office and made an appointment with this unsuspecting lard to get a tattoo removed, something, of course, which I had no intention of doing. Armed with a hidden camera, I was able to get video of this clown exiting an exam room with scrubs and a mask on, and actually get him to tell me that he would be the one to perform my procedure. In an instant, his multi-million dollar, lifelong disability claim was destroyed. Sorry Charlie.
One of the more fun surveillance assignments I was given was done with another P.I. Oh, and I brought my dad along for shits and gigs. This family from Georgia who probably own some tobacco plantation or some such shit, hired my company to watch the wife of the wealthy husband while she was up in Massachusetts for a "fashion show." Needless to say, my partner and I, as well as my dad, watched this two-timing bitch cheat on her husband throughout the night. The best part was that my father and I ate and drank on the client's dime. At closing time, me and my dad sat in my car across the street from the Boston bar that the wife and her boytoy were attending. They exited and immediately started going at it against the wall, camera rolling. My father and I could not control our laughter. They were making out like two horny high school kids. I was actually embarrassed for them. Passerby watched with disgust as they kissed, groped, and fondled each other. "Money shot." I told my dad. The one surveillance he comes with me and we strike gold. This situation eventually brought me to court, in Georgia, to give a deposition. We watched the video in the lawyer's office. I got to describe what was taken in the video with this loser watching over my shoulder to make sure I was telling the truth. She could say nothing. She was caught red-handed. The rich family was so grateful that I caught this slut, that they gave me a nice bonus.
I know this wasn't the most entertaining entry, but I was bored. Stay tuned for my review of 2011, coming in the next couple weeks.
And hey, if you're legitimately hurt...collect the money you're due. If your wife our husband is paranoid, maybe you shouldn't be with them anyways. Private Investigator's are called into action only when there is reasonable cause. So don't hate. We keep your insurance premiums down and we keep lying, cheating douchebags in check, so remember...we're the good guys.
During one particularly brisk morning in the grand city of Lawrence, MA, yours truly was set up to perform surveillance on a side street at 6 a.m. If you're white and just sitting in a parked car on a side street in Lawrence, you're a cop...except I'm not a cop. Armed with only a taser, a young fellow who looked less than reputable approached my car. Barely cracking my driver's side window, I said in the most ghetto voice I could muster. "What's up."
"Are you a cop."
"Nah dude."
"Ya'll want some crack."
"Ahhh....no thanks, I don't want any crack."
"Well what the fuck you doin' here?"
"I work for an insurance company, just looking for a car to go by." (I obviously didn't want to tell him that I was watching for one of his homies.)
"How 'bout you git the fuck outta here."
"No problem, I was just leaving."
It's not that I was afraid, (ok, maybe a little), but I had been in this same situation a bunch of times. It was just something about the guy coming strait out and asking if I wanted crack that kind of "got" me. I laughed as I drove away and called my boss. "Hey Gator, if you want some crack I found a good connects here in Lawrence."
"I'm all set Vin, thanks anyways."
One time I drove down to Fall River and had to find out if a woman was working at an African Hair Braiding salon and spa. I approached the door and walked in like I had been in an African Hair Braiding salon and spa a thousand times. "How's it going? I was looking to get a gift certificate for my girl." I had never seen a more confused face staring back at me. The black woman behind the counter was nearly speechless. After making some small talk, I was given a business card which read, "African Hair Braiding, specializing in all kinds of braids. Corn Rows-Kinky Twists-Micro Invisible-No Knots-Flat Twist-Weaves-And Many More." Seriously, that's on the card, I have it right in front of me. What the hell could "And Many More" mean, I thought.
I had a gun pulled on me in Dorchester, MA....and my car needed a jump. THAT was a fun conversation.
One guy who I was supervising at the time lived in Detroit and was boxed in by three other cars. He literally had to smash his way out of there, cause the cops sure as shit weren't gonna get there in time to save his white ass.
Another guy came out of his house wielding both a baseball bat and a golf club. "Why does he need both?" I thought. I actually let this joker get to my car. (A little inside information, by the way, we never sit in front of the house of the person we're watching, that would be stupid, so normally it's the neighbors we have to deal with.) I rolled my window down. "Can I help you insane fuck head?" I actually asked, "Can I help you good citizen?"
"Why are you here?"
"Before I tell you, are you gonna use either one of those weapons on me or my vehicle."
"It depends."
"Well here's my answer then...I'm working. That's all I need to tell you. Go call the cops and ask them, I checked in with them this morning. So before you run out here in your bathrobe wielding weapons like an asshole, why don't you go through the proper channels first. Sound good?"
"So the cops know you're out here?"
"Here's my cell phone, wanna call them."
He walked away, most likely feeling like a fool. Ha, neigbors! The P.I.'s natural enemy. They are like the snake to our mongoose.
I flew to California to watch a plastic surgeon, who "couldn't perform his duties" any longer. I watched this fool for five strait days drive his BMW to work, walk in with scrubs on, and take note of all the patients entering. On the last day of surveillance, I walked into the office and made an appointment with this unsuspecting lard to get a tattoo removed, something, of course, which I had no intention of doing. Armed with a hidden camera, I was able to get video of this clown exiting an exam room with scrubs and a mask on, and actually get him to tell me that he would be the one to perform my procedure. In an instant, his multi-million dollar, lifelong disability claim was destroyed. Sorry Charlie.
One of the more fun surveillance assignments I was given was done with another P.I. Oh, and I brought my dad along for shits and gigs. This family from Georgia who probably own some tobacco plantation or some such shit, hired my company to watch the wife of the wealthy husband while she was up in Massachusetts for a "fashion show." Needless to say, my partner and I, as well as my dad, watched this two-timing bitch cheat on her husband throughout the night. The best part was that my father and I ate and drank on the client's dime. At closing time, me and my dad sat in my car across the street from the Boston bar that the wife and her boytoy were attending. They exited and immediately started going at it against the wall, camera rolling. My father and I could not control our laughter. They were making out like two horny high school kids. I was actually embarrassed for them. Passerby watched with disgust as they kissed, groped, and fondled each other. "Money shot." I told my dad. The one surveillance he comes with me and we strike gold. This situation eventually brought me to court, in Georgia, to give a deposition. We watched the video in the lawyer's office. I got to describe what was taken in the video with this loser watching over my shoulder to make sure I was telling the truth. She could say nothing. She was caught red-handed. The rich family was so grateful that I caught this slut, that they gave me a nice bonus.
I know this wasn't the most entertaining entry, but I was bored. Stay tuned for my review of 2011, coming in the next couple weeks.
And hey, if you're legitimately hurt...collect the money you're due. If your wife our husband is paranoid, maybe you shouldn't be with them anyways. Private Investigator's are called into action only when there is reasonable cause. So don't hate. We keep your insurance premiums down and we keep lying, cheating douchebags in check, so remember...we're the good guys.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
I Bought A Pregnancy Test With My Laundry Quarters
No, not me personally...but this was how a friend of mine recently started a phone conversation with me. Yikes. I thought MY recent situation was bad! It kind of makes you appreciate the things you have, AND the things you DON'T have, like a zygote in your uterus and/or money.
If you read this on facebook, can you please comment on how YOU would respond to such a statement? I couldn't really tell right away from the tone of her voice how upset she was, or if she was upset at all. Was this a panicked phone call to a friend looking for advice, or was it just a topic for conversation? I felt like the first words to leave my lips would be critical. I had a very crucial and delicate decision to make, cause as we all know, bitches be crazy, and it would be my ass if I came back with the wrong response.
Many things ran through my mind in a flash as to what to say initially. My ideas ranged from simple, obvious questions, to trying to be consoling, to asking what I could do, to trying to make light of the situation, to utter dumbfoundedness. We'll use the name "Late Girl" for the purposes of this story. Examples of my first words included: "Oh shit Late Girl! Why do you think you're pregnant?" "How late are you?" "Wait, are you seeing someone right now?" "Ummm....did you take the test yet?" "Why did you feel the need to tell me you had to pay with quarters? Are you implying that you're poor, or are you saying you need to do laundry at my house?" "Ahhh...I know we're good friends, but am I the first person you should be telling this to?" "Did the guy not have a twenty he could have spotted you?" "Do you need to borrow money for tampons just in case it comes out negative?" "Shit Late Girl, you couldn't have waited a couple days to get a paycheck? I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty sure a couple days doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things." "Are you shitting me?" "So what are you gonna do if it's positive." "How much do those piss sticks cost?" "In theory, would you have to do any less laundry if you don't get your period, thus saving you quarters, or is the difference negligible?" "Is it too late for plan B?" "Do you need a hug?" "If you ARE pregnant, there's no chance it's MINE, is there?" OK, I made that last one up, a guy doesn't generally get a girl pregnant if it's been 3 years since they've slept together, and when it did happen, both of us passed out drunk before it was over.
Knowing the severity of the consequences had I said the wrong thing, I bought myself some more crucial seconds...precious time, by pausing a moment, and finally uttering the following in a confused tone: "Wait...Late Girl....say that again? What are you talking about?"
She sighed and repeated herself. "Laundry quarters Vinny...I walked into the pharmacy with a five-dollar bill and my Ziploc bag full of quarters. I walked up to the cashier with the cheapest pregnancy test I could find, a hood over my head, and shame filled embarrassment plastered on my face."
"Maybe if you had let something else get plastered on your face, you wouldn't have been in this situation."
"THAT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!"
I cringed for a second. Perhaps making light of the situation was the wrong way to go. After a few scary seconds; however, she laughed. Disaster averted, well relatively speaking. I suppose the overall disaster of the situation was still very much in play. "What am I gonna dooooooooo?" She whined.
How the fuck should I know? Was this a question of what is she gonna do if she's pregnant, where is she going to get more, actual paper money, or how is she gonna do her laundry? I suppose it was most likely a combination of all of the above.
"Well what are you waiting for? Why don't you take the test and see what it says? Wouldn't it resolve what is clearly an unanswered, stressful question?" Quickly transforming into consoling friend mode--"Tell you what, why don't you come by, take the test over here, and you can even bring your laundry...how does that sound?"
She thought it over for a second. "No, I'm just gonna take it in the morning, that's when your pee is most concentrated." I held my phone away from my ear, leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and sighed. I love Late Girl, I've been friends with her for half my life, we have shared many emotional conversations, consoled each other during break-ups, gave each other advice on life in general, and even shared genitals from time to time; but what the FUCK is she trying to get at right now. WHAT does she want me to say or do. There was no resolution that I could have come to at this very moment, with this very phone call.
"Listen, Late Girl, I don't know what you need. Just tell me what you want me to do. Do you need to borrow some money? Do you need to borrow my toilet or washing machine? Seriously dude, I'm fishing for shit to say to you right now."
"I don't KNOW Vinny, I'm just freaking out."
"Wait, who are you even banging?"
"It was just a hookup, we were drunk...don't judge me."
"Whatever Late Girl. Listen, just calm down, wait until the morning, take the test, and let me know what it says. We'll figure something out. Why is it that you felt the need to buy a test in such a hurry anyways? How long ago did you bang this clown?"
"Like 3 weeks ago."
"Wait...3 weeks ago? When were you supposed to get your period? What makes you think you're pregnant?"
"I was supposed to get my period like a couple days ago or something, but I threw up this morning."
The stupidity of her answer nearly made me collapse to my knees, especially because my friend is very intelligent. I'm a guy. I have no idea what it feels like to be pregnant, to have a period, or to have morning sickness. What I DO know, is that I've made a couple kids. I've been with the mother of my children as they found out they were pregnant, and what the general signs of pregnancy are. In fairness to Late Girl, she is a little younger than me and has never been pregnant, she only has one brother, and I suppose being a couple days late and throwing up could have possibly made her a little anxious....but was she shitting me?
Instead of completely tearing into her and breaking her balls without mercy, (juuuuuuust in case I wound up being wrong,) I took the high road. "You're not pregnant Late Girl. You probably ate some bad chicken or something. There's nothing to worry about right now except maybe getting your underwear clean, ok?"
"OK. Thanks Vinny, I just figured with you being a dad, you'd know about this stuff."
"What I do know is that before you use your last dime to buy a pregnancy test, call me FIRST next time, ok? Chances are you're not pregnant, and if you are, we'll figure something out, ok?"
"Alright Vinny, sorry to call you like this, I just get freaked out. It was such a mistake to....." Blah, blah, blah....she went on for like another 5 minutes and I just yupped her to death.
I never did get a call to find out if my friend's test came out positive. I'm assuming it didn't, since I probably would have received a not-too pleasant, tear filled, follow-up phone call 2-5 minutes later, or possibly in the morning. No call came. We haven't spoken in the last couple weeks, since this ridiculous call went down.
I guess the point of the story is to educate those of you out there who are about to spend your last bag of laundry quarters. Don't. And if you do, don't tell anyone about it, because it will probably end up as a blog entry on the Internet.
If you read this on facebook, can you please comment on how YOU would respond to such a statement? I couldn't really tell right away from the tone of her voice how upset she was, or if she was upset at all. Was this a panicked phone call to a friend looking for advice, or was it just a topic for conversation? I felt like the first words to leave my lips would be critical. I had a very crucial and delicate decision to make, cause as we all know, bitches be crazy, and it would be my ass if I came back with the wrong response.
Many things ran through my mind in a flash as to what to say initially. My ideas ranged from simple, obvious questions, to trying to be consoling, to asking what I could do, to trying to make light of the situation, to utter dumbfoundedness. We'll use the name "Late Girl" for the purposes of this story. Examples of my first words included: "Oh shit Late Girl! Why do you think you're pregnant?" "How late are you?" "Wait, are you seeing someone right now?" "Ummm....did you take the test yet?" "Why did you feel the need to tell me you had to pay with quarters? Are you implying that you're poor, or are you saying you need to do laundry at my house?" "Ahhh...I know we're good friends, but am I the first person you should be telling this to?" "Did the guy not have a twenty he could have spotted you?" "Do you need to borrow money for tampons just in case it comes out negative?" "Shit Late Girl, you couldn't have waited a couple days to get a paycheck? I'm not an expert, but I'm pretty sure a couple days doesn't matter in the grand scheme of things." "Are you shitting me?" "So what are you gonna do if it's positive." "How much do those piss sticks cost?" "In theory, would you have to do any less laundry if you don't get your period, thus saving you quarters, or is the difference negligible?" "Is it too late for plan B?" "Do you need a hug?" "If you ARE pregnant, there's no chance it's MINE, is there?" OK, I made that last one up, a guy doesn't generally get a girl pregnant if it's been 3 years since they've slept together, and when it did happen, both of us passed out drunk before it was over.
Knowing the severity of the consequences had I said the wrong thing, I bought myself some more crucial seconds...precious time, by pausing a moment, and finally uttering the following in a confused tone: "Wait...Late Girl....say that again? What are you talking about?"
She sighed and repeated herself. "Laundry quarters Vinny...I walked into the pharmacy with a five-dollar bill and my Ziploc bag full of quarters. I walked up to the cashier with the cheapest pregnancy test I could find, a hood over my head, and shame filled embarrassment plastered on my face."
"Maybe if you had let something else get plastered on your face, you wouldn't have been in this situation."
"THAT'S NOT FUCKING FUNNY!"
I cringed for a second. Perhaps making light of the situation was the wrong way to go. After a few scary seconds; however, she laughed. Disaster averted, well relatively speaking. I suppose the overall disaster of the situation was still very much in play. "What am I gonna dooooooooo?" She whined.
How the fuck should I know? Was this a question of what is she gonna do if she's pregnant, where is she going to get more, actual paper money, or how is she gonna do her laundry? I suppose it was most likely a combination of all of the above.
"Well what are you waiting for? Why don't you take the test and see what it says? Wouldn't it resolve what is clearly an unanswered, stressful question?" Quickly transforming into consoling friend mode--"Tell you what, why don't you come by, take the test over here, and you can even bring your laundry...how does that sound?"
She thought it over for a second. "No, I'm just gonna take it in the morning, that's when your pee is most concentrated." I held my phone away from my ear, leaned my head back, closed my eyes, and sighed. I love Late Girl, I've been friends with her for half my life, we have shared many emotional conversations, consoled each other during break-ups, gave each other advice on life in general, and even shared genitals from time to time; but what the FUCK is she trying to get at right now. WHAT does she want me to say or do. There was no resolution that I could have come to at this very moment, with this very phone call.
"Listen, Late Girl, I don't know what you need. Just tell me what you want me to do. Do you need to borrow some money? Do you need to borrow my toilet or washing machine? Seriously dude, I'm fishing for shit to say to you right now."
"I don't KNOW Vinny, I'm just freaking out."
"Wait, who are you even banging?"
"It was just a hookup, we were drunk...don't judge me."
"Whatever Late Girl. Listen, just calm down, wait until the morning, take the test, and let me know what it says. We'll figure something out. Why is it that you felt the need to buy a test in such a hurry anyways? How long ago did you bang this clown?"
"Like 3 weeks ago."
"Wait...3 weeks ago? When were you supposed to get your period? What makes you think you're pregnant?"
"I was supposed to get my period like a couple days ago or something, but I threw up this morning."
The stupidity of her answer nearly made me collapse to my knees, especially because my friend is very intelligent. I'm a guy. I have no idea what it feels like to be pregnant, to have a period, or to have morning sickness. What I DO know, is that I've made a couple kids. I've been with the mother of my children as they found out they were pregnant, and what the general signs of pregnancy are. In fairness to Late Girl, she is a little younger than me and has never been pregnant, she only has one brother, and I suppose being a couple days late and throwing up could have possibly made her a little anxious....but was she shitting me?
Instead of completely tearing into her and breaking her balls without mercy, (juuuuuuust in case I wound up being wrong,) I took the high road. "You're not pregnant Late Girl. You probably ate some bad chicken or something. There's nothing to worry about right now except maybe getting your underwear clean, ok?"
"OK. Thanks Vinny, I just figured with you being a dad, you'd know about this stuff."
"What I do know is that before you use your last dime to buy a pregnancy test, call me FIRST next time, ok? Chances are you're not pregnant, and if you are, we'll figure something out, ok?"
"Alright Vinny, sorry to call you like this, I just get freaked out. It was such a mistake to....." Blah, blah, blah....she went on for like another 5 minutes and I just yupped her to death.
I never did get a call to find out if my friend's test came out positive. I'm assuming it didn't, since I probably would have received a not-too pleasant, tear filled, follow-up phone call 2-5 minutes later, or possibly in the morning. No call came. We haven't spoken in the last couple weeks, since this ridiculous call went down.
I guess the point of the story is to educate those of you out there who are about to spend your last bag of laundry quarters. Don't. And if you do, don't tell anyone about it, because it will probably end up as a blog entry on the Internet.
Saturday, December 10, 2011
Merry Christmas
Ah, the holidays! Depending on your point of view, either the happiest or shittiest time of year. First of all, can we stop with all the "Happy Holidays" bullshit? It's CHRISTMAS, ok? Can we just agree on that. Say it with me, "Merry Christmas!" It's ok...you're not going to get sneered at or be spit on or struck down by some God who isn't your God if you say Merry Christmas, I promise. Whenever I hear "Happy Holidays," because of political correctness, it makes me want to punch myself in the face until I'm unconscious. Who the hell do these people think they are trying to call a Christmas tree a "Holiday Tree?" So you're just going to forgo hundreds of years of tradition just to be politically correct?
Guess what? If you know someone is Jewish, wish them Happy Hanukkah, or Chanukah, or whatever the fuck...if you know someone celebrates Christmas, wish them a Merry Christmas. If you're not sure, go with the most popular one, the one that kids get a week off of school from...you guessed it, Merry Christmas!
Now listen, I'm the least religious person I know. My family is Catholic, and I went to Sunday school and occasionally church when I was a kid, but I would consider myself Agnostic. If you don't know what that means, go look it up, I'm not a fucking dictionary. My kids have not been baptised or Christened and they don't have Godparents. If they choose to pick a religion when they're older, that will be fine with me. I was not going to force something on them before they were able to sit up. Go ahead and judge me if you want to, but that's how my ex-wife and I are playing it.
Having said that, it's CHRISTMAS season. CHRISTMAS is the holiday that MOST people celebrate. If you're Jewish, that's awesome. Good for you. If you're Muslim, great! Taoist, Buddhist, Hindu, I don't give a flying, shit-covered fuck. If you are celebrating a holiday in December, you are celebrating Christmas. You know it, I know it, and so does the entire world....(except maybe the Middle East, but who cares about that desolate hell hole...even the sane Muslims know what's up.)
Disclaimer, by the way, before any nice, practicing Muslims try to track this IP address and get all uppity....relax. Everyone knows you're out there. Everyone knows that you can practice religion and pray to Allah or whoever you want to and everybody knows that the crazy Muslims shouldn't be lumped in with you, so just relax and put a sock in it already....jeezus. And another thing, if you get racially profiled at the airport, too fucking bad!! How many Asians have taken down an airplane? Somebody find out and get back to me. If you look like a Middle Eastern terrorist, just roll with it. I apologize on behalf of white people everywhere, but the extremists who happen to look like you fucked it up for the rest of you, so just sit there, get your luggage checked, and move on with your lives. Just to seem a lot less racist, because I'm NOT racist; in my opinion, any white kids who dress all Gothic and wear trench coats to school...what do they call them these days? Emo kids? I think THEY should be profiled too. Some people who look like you other Emo kids who just want to "Rage Against the Machine" and peacefully mind there own business and listen to heavy metal fucked it up for the rest of you...too bad. Deal with it. When my kids go to school in a couple years, you're damn right I'm going to personally check out every Emo kid and Muslim kid in their schools. Call me crazy, but you can thank Osama Bin Laden, Eric Reid, Eric Harris, and Dylan Klebold. I'll be damned if MY kids are gonna get shot up just because they want to play sports or are popular or aren't Muslim. Fuck that noise. I'll run a full background check on anybody I think is suspect, and I don't care what people think of me. These are the times we live in.
Back to the Holiday Season. Merry Christmas everyone. Merry Christmas especially to those Americans serving this year overseas and Merry Christmas to their families who will be spending Christmas thousands of miles away from their loved ones. Happy Hanukkah to the Jewish soldiers and THEIR families, and whatever else you want to say to them individually. Don't lump them all in to "Happy Holidays." Charlie Brown deserves better. Are they going to rename it "Charlie Brown's Holiday Special." How about Chevy Chase in "National Lampoon's Holiday Vacation." "A Holiday Story" where Ralphie shoots his eye out? I know, let's rename "A Christmas Carol" written by Charles Dickens in 1843 to "A Holiday Carol."
So this week's giant "Fuck You" goes to the politicians and corporations who think it's such a great idea to change every tradition that everyone has known since they were born.
Have some fucking common sense people. And this is coming from someone who asks, "What the hell has Jesus Christ done for me lately?"
Guess what? If you know someone is Jewish, wish them Happy Hanukkah, or Chanukah, or whatever the fuck...if you know someone celebrates Christmas, wish them a Merry Christmas. If you're not sure, go with the most popular one, the one that kids get a week off of school from...you guessed it, Merry Christmas!
Now listen, I'm the least religious person I know. My family is Catholic, and I went to Sunday school and occasionally church when I was a kid, but I would consider myself Agnostic. If you don't know what that means, go look it up, I'm not a fucking dictionary. My kids have not been baptised or Christened and they don't have Godparents. If they choose to pick a religion when they're older, that will be fine with me. I was not going to force something on them before they were able to sit up. Go ahead and judge me if you want to, but that's how my ex-wife and I are playing it.
Having said that, it's CHRISTMAS season. CHRISTMAS is the holiday that MOST people celebrate. If you're Jewish, that's awesome. Good for you. If you're Muslim, great! Taoist, Buddhist, Hindu, I don't give a flying, shit-covered fuck. If you are celebrating a holiday in December, you are celebrating Christmas. You know it, I know it, and so does the entire world....(except maybe the Middle East, but who cares about that desolate hell hole...even the sane Muslims know what's up.)
Disclaimer, by the way, before any nice, practicing Muslims try to track this IP address and get all uppity....relax. Everyone knows you're out there. Everyone knows that you can practice religion and pray to Allah or whoever you want to and everybody knows that the crazy Muslims shouldn't be lumped in with you, so just relax and put a sock in it already....jeezus. And another thing, if you get racially profiled at the airport, too fucking bad!! How many Asians have taken down an airplane? Somebody find out and get back to me. If you look like a Middle Eastern terrorist, just roll with it. I apologize on behalf of white people everywhere, but the extremists who happen to look like you fucked it up for the rest of you, so just sit there, get your luggage checked, and move on with your lives. Just to seem a lot less racist, because I'm NOT racist; in my opinion, any white kids who dress all Gothic and wear trench coats to school...what do they call them these days? Emo kids? I think THEY should be profiled too. Some people who look like you other Emo kids who just want to "Rage Against the Machine" and peacefully mind there own business and listen to heavy metal fucked it up for the rest of you...too bad. Deal with it. When my kids go to school in a couple years, you're damn right I'm going to personally check out every Emo kid and Muslim kid in their schools. Call me crazy, but you can thank Osama Bin Laden, Eric Reid, Eric Harris, and Dylan Klebold. I'll be damned if MY kids are gonna get shot up just because they want to play sports or are popular or aren't Muslim. Fuck that noise. I'll run a full background check on anybody I think is suspect, and I don't care what people think of me. These are the times we live in.
Back to the Holiday Season. Merry Christmas everyone. Merry Christmas especially to those Americans serving this year overseas and Merry Christmas to their families who will be spending Christmas thousands of miles away from their loved ones. Happy Hanukkah to the Jewish soldiers and THEIR families, and whatever else you want to say to them individually. Don't lump them all in to "Happy Holidays." Charlie Brown deserves better. Are they going to rename it "Charlie Brown's Holiday Special." How about Chevy Chase in "National Lampoon's Holiday Vacation." "A Holiday Story" where Ralphie shoots his eye out? I know, let's rename "A Christmas Carol" written by Charles Dickens in 1843 to "A Holiday Carol."
So this week's giant "Fuck You" goes to the politicians and corporations who think it's such a great idea to change every tradition that everyone has known since they were born.
Have some fucking common sense people. And this is coming from someone who asks, "What the hell has Jesus Christ done for me lately?"
Thursday, November 24, 2011
My Love for Alice's Restaurant
Is there a better day of the year than Thanksgiving? Not in my estimation. When you're younger, obviously, Christmas takes the top spot, but to have a day where so much good is celebrated is not something to be taken lightly.
Let's get the obvious out of the way. Most people love to eat. I know I do. There's no better feeling than stuffing yourself full of turkey and all the fixin's and plopping your fat ass on the couch, football on in the background, socializing with your family and/or friends, some of whom maybe you haven't seen in a while.
Before that; however, if you aren't hungover too much from the night before, the day usually starts with going to watch your old high school football team. Maybe you have some coffee or hot chocolate to keep you warm...maybe you have some Brandi..no judgement here. It's a good time to run into some old high school friends and people you haven't seen in a while and catch up.
After the game your day could go a number of ways. Maybe you go home and watch the parade for a bit. Maybe you're doing the cooking for the day. Maybe you're travelling and bundle the kids up and head to grammy's house. Perhaps you make some last minute adjustments to your fantasy football league. Whatever the case may be, the day is full of promise, turkey, and of course the noontime playing of Alice's Restaurant on the radio, one of my favorite traditions.
Despite everything that's good about Thanksgiving physically...the food, the family, the traditions...I think my favorite part about the holiday is that it gives me an excuse to look at the good things in my life. Not that I should need an excuse, but inevitably, it DOES give me a good reason. There are plenty of things in my life that I'm thankful for. My beautiful children, the family and friends in my life, the memories of the family and friends who aren't here any more, the Patriots, my relative good health...shit, I'm even thankful for all of my ex-wives. How often do I allow myself to say that? Not very often, I assure you. If any of you heathens are out there reading this, by the way...thank you for being fantastic mom's to our kids. I mean that with all my soul. And know, I guess, that I don't really think you're fire-breathing, god-forsaken succubi...I'm just having some fun with yas, you stupid bitches. (I would insert a smiley face right here or some other emoticon, but I'm not a homo.)
Another good thing about Thanksgiving? Once the day is over and you're in a turkey coma, you have 3 more days off of work and pounds of leftovers to bring home. What other holiday can claim those bonuses? Most importantly, allow yourself to remember those close to you that you've lost, and allow yourself to appreciate those who will eventually no longer be with us. It's important. Show thanks for them.
Happy Thanksgiving everybody. Really think about all the good in your life, even if you have piles of bad. There's 364 remaining days in the year for self-pity, so enjoy today. Use it to reflect on all the good, I promise it will make you feel like you're on top of the world, if only for one day, and even if you're in a really bad place in your life. Just remember the story of Alice's Restaurant. Hell, those clowns had nothing going for them, but when the dust settled, they had each other, and the promise of a great holiday to fall back on.
Let's get the obvious out of the way. Most people love to eat. I know I do. There's no better feeling than stuffing yourself full of turkey and all the fixin's and plopping your fat ass on the couch, football on in the background, socializing with your family and/or friends, some of whom maybe you haven't seen in a while.
Before that; however, if you aren't hungover too much from the night before, the day usually starts with going to watch your old high school football team. Maybe you have some coffee or hot chocolate to keep you warm...maybe you have some Brandi..no judgement here. It's a good time to run into some old high school friends and people you haven't seen in a while and catch up.
After the game your day could go a number of ways. Maybe you go home and watch the parade for a bit. Maybe you're doing the cooking for the day. Maybe you're travelling and bundle the kids up and head to grammy's house. Perhaps you make some last minute adjustments to your fantasy football league. Whatever the case may be, the day is full of promise, turkey, and of course the noontime playing of Alice's Restaurant on the radio, one of my favorite traditions.
Despite everything that's good about Thanksgiving physically...the food, the family, the traditions...I think my favorite part about the holiday is that it gives me an excuse to look at the good things in my life. Not that I should need an excuse, but inevitably, it DOES give me a good reason. There are plenty of things in my life that I'm thankful for. My beautiful children, the family and friends in my life, the memories of the family and friends who aren't here any more, the Patriots, my relative good health...shit, I'm even thankful for all of my ex-wives. How often do I allow myself to say that? Not very often, I assure you. If any of you heathens are out there reading this, by the way...thank you for being fantastic mom's to our kids. I mean that with all my soul. And know, I guess, that I don't really think you're fire-breathing, god-forsaken succubi...I'm just having some fun with yas, you stupid bitches. (I would insert a smiley face right here or some other emoticon, but I'm not a homo.)
Another good thing about Thanksgiving? Once the day is over and you're in a turkey coma, you have 3 more days off of work and pounds of leftovers to bring home. What other holiday can claim those bonuses? Most importantly, allow yourself to remember those close to you that you've lost, and allow yourself to appreciate those who will eventually no longer be with us. It's important. Show thanks for them.
Happy Thanksgiving everybody. Really think about all the good in your life, even if you have piles of bad. There's 364 remaining days in the year for self-pity, so enjoy today. Use it to reflect on all the good, I promise it will make you feel like you're on top of the world, if only for one day, and even if you're in a really bad place in your life. Just remember the story of Alice's Restaurant. Hell, those clowns had nothing going for them, but when the dust settled, they had each other, and the promise of a great holiday to fall back on.
Saturday, November 19, 2011
Cold November Rain
Anyone who believes that money makes the man is either rich or ignorant, or both. I've come across some real assholes in my day...the majority of them have been business owners, beneficiaries, or other rich people with an undeserved sense of self worth...as if the fact that they have money automatically catapults them into some kind of "level" above the rest of us. The only people tolerable that have money are those who have worked their entire lives to earn it. If those SAME people, make their children work just as hard to earn money and respect as they grow, then all the better. I'm not saying that if you're a parent, and you can afford it, that you shouldn't help out your kids or close family or friends when they need help...but just handing them money and spoiling them will just turn them into douchebags...I've seen it countless times.
My real beef is with people, men or women, who have a big time title or even own a company and deal with their employees directly as if they were lesser forms of human. This goes out to these people directly. FUCK YOU! You think because you have more money or a better title then me, that makes you a better man? Nope. In fact, in most cases, it makes you one of the biggest assholes on the planet. And yes, of course I'm speaking from direct experience.
It's a shitty thing that there are people in this country and around the world who literally live in shacks and have to hunt their own food or play soccer with a fucking coconut. I've seen it. It's not cool. In the meantime, we have CEO's of companies who literally have anything and everything they want. It's always the people who work the hardest who make the least amount of money, too. Something's wrong with that. I know it will never change. It's the way it is. There's nothing we can do about it. We can't solve world hunger, we'll never have world peace, and the rich will always get richer before the poor get a meal.
All of the above sounds really preachy, I know, but it doesn't make it not true. I hate being poor. I hate living paycheck to paycheck and not being able to help out my family, who is also poor as fuck. I don't like filing unemployment every week and going to eviction hearings. I don't like getting laid off and having to withdraw my 401(k). I even bought an $8,000 ring from a jewelery store one time on a credit card and sold it for $2,000 at a pawn shop just so I could get some cash. And you know what the fucked up thing is? I'm a LUCKY one! I have my health, for now, and friends and family and wonderful kids who look up to me, no matter how much money I make or don't make. I don't have to worry about my kids getting dysentery because I live in a place where health care is available. It's not a perfect system, I know, but it's better than being in Somalia.
That's what irritates me about these smug fucks who can go out and buy whatever they want and send their kids to the best schools in the world and SAVE money and retire early and travel around the world. They have NO IDEA how lucky they are. They'll never understand. They'll say ignorant shit to poor tour guides like, "Gee, how much would it be to buy up a bunch of this land?" I'm not making that up, I was on a cruise during my honeymoon and some stuck up, cunt of a rich bitch from Manhattan actually asked our tour guide through the most poverty stricken part of the Dominican Republic. It took everything I had, and the begging of my wife at the time, not to wage an all out war against this absolute disease of a woman who had thousands of dollars of jewels but refused to give a dollar bill to any of the kids begging, (yes begging) for a buck from us rich Americans. It made me sick.
These facts make me realize; however, that THEY are the douchebags and the drains on society..not me, and certainly not the people who eat at soup kitchens or live in the streets. We're real people. You know who's fake? The people that pay thousands of dollars to go on cruises to places like the Dominican Republic and take a tour through what is easily the poorest place they've ever seen and instead of being enlightened, they snub their noses at these poor people who live day to day with no supermarket to buy food from, no running water, nothing. Compared to us, they have nothing. I'm ok with it...trust me. Better them than me. I'm not trying to sound cold, but seriously. At the same time, I make enough to barely keep a roof over my head and food on my kids table. At the same time, I'm not going to sit here and shit on people who have less than me.
So anyways, go fuck yourself rich people.
Also, I hate people who take slow right turns in their cars and I am REALLY not a fan of Jimmy Fallon.
My real beef is with people, men or women, who have a big time title or even own a company and deal with their employees directly as if they were lesser forms of human. This goes out to these people directly. FUCK YOU! You think because you have more money or a better title then me, that makes you a better man? Nope. In fact, in most cases, it makes you one of the biggest assholes on the planet. And yes, of course I'm speaking from direct experience.
It's a shitty thing that there are people in this country and around the world who literally live in shacks and have to hunt their own food or play soccer with a fucking coconut. I've seen it. It's not cool. In the meantime, we have CEO's of companies who literally have anything and everything they want. It's always the people who work the hardest who make the least amount of money, too. Something's wrong with that. I know it will never change. It's the way it is. There's nothing we can do about it. We can't solve world hunger, we'll never have world peace, and the rich will always get richer before the poor get a meal.
All of the above sounds really preachy, I know, but it doesn't make it not true. I hate being poor. I hate living paycheck to paycheck and not being able to help out my family, who is also poor as fuck. I don't like filing unemployment every week and going to eviction hearings. I don't like getting laid off and having to withdraw my 401(k). I even bought an $8,000 ring from a jewelery store one time on a credit card and sold it for $2,000 at a pawn shop just so I could get some cash. And you know what the fucked up thing is? I'm a LUCKY one! I have my health, for now, and friends and family and wonderful kids who look up to me, no matter how much money I make or don't make. I don't have to worry about my kids getting dysentery because I live in a place where health care is available. It's not a perfect system, I know, but it's better than being in Somalia.
That's what irritates me about these smug fucks who can go out and buy whatever they want and send their kids to the best schools in the world and SAVE money and retire early and travel around the world. They have NO IDEA how lucky they are. They'll never understand. They'll say ignorant shit to poor tour guides like, "Gee, how much would it be to buy up a bunch of this land?" I'm not making that up, I was on a cruise during my honeymoon and some stuck up, cunt of a rich bitch from Manhattan actually asked our tour guide through the most poverty stricken part of the Dominican Republic. It took everything I had, and the begging of my wife at the time, not to wage an all out war against this absolute disease of a woman who had thousands of dollars of jewels but refused to give a dollar bill to any of the kids begging, (yes begging) for a buck from us rich Americans. It made me sick.
These facts make me realize; however, that THEY are the douchebags and the drains on society..not me, and certainly not the people who eat at soup kitchens or live in the streets. We're real people. You know who's fake? The people that pay thousands of dollars to go on cruises to places like the Dominican Republic and take a tour through what is easily the poorest place they've ever seen and instead of being enlightened, they snub their noses at these poor people who live day to day with no supermarket to buy food from, no running water, nothing. Compared to us, they have nothing. I'm ok with it...trust me. Better them than me. I'm not trying to sound cold, but seriously. At the same time, I make enough to barely keep a roof over my head and food on my kids table. At the same time, I'm not going to sit here and shit on people who have less than me.
So anyways, go fuck yourself rich people.
Also, I hate people who take slow right turns in their cars and I am REALLY not a fan of Jimmy Fallon.
Monday, October 31, 2011
The Invasion of Montreal-Part deux
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