Father’s Day

Happy Father’s Day to all you hard-working dads. Those dads who aren’t, well you’re losers and you deserve less than a tie, which equals nothing.

Why do people think that fathers everywhere want anything related to beer and sports for Father’s Day? Lame. Ties? Also lame as hell. I’m not a father, so I’m not going to act like I know what they want, but I’m pretty sure by the reactions of my own father, they don’t want that shit. You know what I think dads want? A home-cooked meal. That’s right, kiddos. Get your asses in the kitchen and make your daddy some meat and potatoes and you’ll have him wrapped. Throw in a pie at the end of the meal and you’ve got that car you’ve always wanted and yes, you can go to that concert with your friends. Dads also want electronics…iPads. What kid on the planet (besides those gazillionaire asshole kids who already have the latest installment of…everything) has the cashola to pay for that? Sorry, dad. Here’s some country fried steak with mashed potatoes and gravy…homemade gravy. And biscuits. Don’t forget dad’s like bread so they can sop up all that greasy yumminess you’ve fried together in the ol’ iron skillet. That’ll be enough for him to say, “uh, what iPad?” 

Forget the Brown Bag Lunch

Am I the only one who thinks that spending $40,000+ on a ticket to sit with the president–or a presidential candidate for that matter–and eat or listen to him ramble is the most fucking ridiculous thing pretty much ever? First of all, since you’re doing all this preaching about trying to help the middle class get better jobs and make more money, do you really think they will be able to afford such things? The median household income for most Americans is around $49,445 (according to the 2010 Census Bureau, I didn’t make that up). Hmm. Something doesn’t quite equal out.

“Let’s see…I make $30,000 a year but I reeeeally want to see the president live and have lunch at some celebrity’s house so I can see a bunch of other whores that are filthy rich and throwing their money around like it’s scrap paper. I think I’ll take out a loan or get a second mortgage on my house! Yes! The housing market is back up and doing well, right? Wait. Is it? Oh well. It’s the PODUS! He’ll help me pay it back if he gets elected again. I could meet George Clooney at his house?? Put me down for 2 tickets.”

I would imagine that this is what the president and the presidential candidate(s) think we’re thinking. There are, however, a select few who can read straight through a line of bullshit when they see one. What would you get out of paying that much dinero to see el presidente? Nada. Zilch. Zero. Oh wait, there is the possibility that a photograph could be taken with the president and you, but you’d have to pay more for that. What’s that? You want him to sit at the same table as you? Price just went up again. Did you…? What? Oh, price just went up again.

Blasphemy! 

This One’s For the Fellas

You’ll no doubt be happy to learn that not only can you pick your nose and/or hold yourself up with your free hand, but your pee can now make sweet, sweet music in this new urinal called…wait for it…”Guitar Pee”. The name alone speaks volumes about the guy who invented this contraption.

It looks like a guitar and plays a distinctive arrangement of notes each time it is used. You, yes you, will have your very own tune played as you pee! That’s not even the best part. Brace yourselves. It will also record your musical production and your pee tune – once you have flushed – is assigned its very own number which allows folks to stream it on the Guitar Pee website. Yep, that’s right. iPods everywhere will now have the unique musical sound your piss makes downloaded on them. Ringtones will be dedicated to your musical piss. Whores will come from all over wanting you to piss your awesomeness all over them. “O. M. G! Your piss sounds just like Justin Timberlake’s!”

The ultimate peeing experience.

Diamonds and Mary Jane

Today’s blog is going to be about two stupid people that I recently read about. I know, not a big change-up from the other posts, but get over it or fuck off.

Exhibit A is a man who thought it would be a good idea to bury his girlfriend’s engagement ring in the sand. One would think that there would be a few obvious things wrong with this picture. I suppose since he is a brain surgeon the thing that we normal folks call “common sense” doesn’t quite register. I can, however, understand his thought process (which, to be honest, scares the shit out of me). He takes his girlfriend on a romantic walk along the beach and they sit to watch the beautiful colors of the setting sun, when, lo and behold, there is a stunningly shiny diamond ring sticking out of the sand. He then proposes and they live happily ever after blah blah blah. It helps, though, for the proposer to remember where he put said ring in the sand. Seriously? You just spent, I don’t know, 15 seconds coming up with this idea and a ridiculous (I’m sure) amount of money into a diamond ring to, number one, bury it in sand, and, number two, fucking forget where you put it?! Unfortunately, the girlfriend said yes. The story would’ve ended much better had she told him the ring was a piece of shit or just told him to fuck off, kept and hocked the ring, and made millions on her autobiography about how she once briefly dated the biggest idiot brain surgeon on the planet. All stories can’t have a happen ending I suppose…except one.

Exhibit B is a teenage girl (she is 19 but that’s still a teenage girl to me) who drove off with her 5 week old baby in the car seat on the roof of her car.  o_O  He was found strapped in the car seat in the middle of a fucking intersection. Really? I’ve left my coffee mug, my keys, and my bags on my roof, but a child, I’m pretty sure I can remember. Oh wait, that’s unless I’m under the influence of marijuana and I’m 19 and cool as fuck. She was upset that her boyfriend was arrested for DUI and decided to go smoke more pot (she had smoked earlier in the day, too), I guess to numb the feeling that she’s with a complete dumbass. HAHA joke’s on her; dumb whore.

I mentioned earlier a happy ending – the “mother” was arrested and the baby’s in the custody of child protective services. Ok, half of that’s happy since CPS isn’t exactly the greatest and she’ll probably get him back, but for now, it’ll do.