Boobies

That got your attention, didn't it? Thought so.

But this post is only about 40% about boobies. The other 60% is about some booby-related shit that troubled me greatly. Let me explain.

First off, the product is called Easy Curves. It's this little stick thing that costs $9.99 and looks like a racing baton, with two pistons (one on each side). What females do is they hold the pistons and squeeze them into the baton and then pull them out again, and then repeat. What THAT does is, on average, increase bust size from 36.4 inches to 37.2 inches in 30 days.

Now I'm sure many of you are reading this and thinking something along the lines of "why does a machine that only costs $9.99 (plus shipping and handling) and increases the size of the b00bz bother you so, Fred the Observer?"

And to be honest, I don't really know how to answer the question. Besides the fact that boobies are awesome pretty much 100% of the time and all these shenanigans with shaping and shit are (in my opinion) pretty unnecessary, I dunno.

I think, actually, that the motion is what bothers me the most. That, coupled with the expression on the demonstration chick's face on the home page of the website (linked above). She looks like . . . I dunno. Like she's fixin' to bust a nut or something. Whatever the "official" description of her expression is, it's DEFINITELY not the expression that one would expect one to have when using such a machine.

Be happy with your boobies ladies!

Shit, I am.

Hehe.

Stay classy

That's YOUR Job!

Readership, I'm currently sitting in a core science class (Science Inquiry: Energy), where the teacher is ridiculous. After dropping some ol' profound scientific shit, she'll look around with this empty sorta smile on her face, see that we have no fucking clue what she's talking about, and then follow it with "is that right?"

The fuck? You tell me, teach.

That brings back memories of the two dumbest teachers I ever had. Note how I said "dumbest" and not "worst." These two, while they were about as smart as my right asscheek, were hilarious fun to be in class with, and I actually did learn stuff, so they weren't "bad" teachers, they were just "dumb."

Anyway.

I had a teacher for seventh grade Social Studies, whose first name was Vanessa (I figure I'll protect their identities a little better by giving their first names because everyone knows their last names haha). She was mildly attractive (for an idiot), but she was so dumb it was almost painful. If you'll recall, in seventh grade Social Studies we studied early non-ancient history (aka like right after all that BC shit). We started the year with a quick review, and the discussion came to the Roman Colosseum. She got very excited, snatched up the chalk from the shelf, and started to write it on the blackboard.

R . . . o . . . m, a . . . n . . . K--

Whoa wait? Since when is "Colosseum" spelled with a fucking K?

I have more stories about good ol' Vanessa, but I'll leave those for another time. The next teacher, while infinitely sexier than Vanessa, was also twice as dumb.

Good ol' Lisa (once again, first name basis here, to protect the idiot - I mean, innocent) was my 11th grade Pre-Calculus teacher. When she wasn't flirting with another teacher (who just happened to be married, and had a hot wife, though that's just hearsay as I've never seen her), she was trying her best to teach us Pre-Calculus. She was one of those "I'm gonna write everything on the overhead and then you write it down too" teachers. I sat in the front row, right on the other side of the projector, with my friend Twevito.

There was one time that Lisa spent about ten minutes trying to solve an equation that she had given us for homework the night before. And she COULD NOT DO IT. So she said "screw it, I can't do this anymore."

And we sat there.

FOR FORTY MINUTES!

Fuckin' Lisa.

Stay classy

The One Trump Card We Have

Readership, if you'll recall, my roommate Waffles and I have predicted that the existence of mankind (just the male aspect) will come to an end at the hands (lips?) of Vagina. And if you won't recall, you should read this . . . and then drop 'n gimme fifty.

Anyway.

Faced with the knowledge that our half of the species will inevitably become either enslaved or extinct because of Vagina, Waffles and I decided that something had to be done. As Men, we had to make sure that if we were goin' down, we weren't gonna go down like no bitchass nyukkas.

So we sat down and brainstormed. And brainstormed. And thought. And thought some more.

And then we discovered the solution - the one trump card that we could ever have against the menace that is ({}).

Chocolate.

Flavored.

Semen.

Stay classy

Abortion

Readership, the constant and highly controversial debate over abortion is, in my humble opinion, fucking retarded. This statement might piss a few of you off. Did it piss you off?

Good.

People need to get pissed off. That's the only way shit changes.

But I digress.

Abortion is, to put it simply, the killing of an unborn fetus while it's still in the womb. Usually an abortion is used for "accidental" pregnancies (i.e. "we were drunk" or "the condom broke," etc.).

I don't like abortions. But in my dislike for them, I realize something else. Let me spell it out real nice for you.

Unless either A) I'm a blood relative of the woman considering having an abortion or B) I put the baby INSIDE the woman considering having an abortion, MY OPINION DOESN'T FUCKING MATTER. What I absolutely HATE is when people try to convince other people not to have an abortion, or to have an abortion. WHO THE FUCK CARES WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT THIS? Is it YOUR child? Are YOU gonna be paying for all the food and clothes and diapers and school and doctors visits and all that? FUCK no you're not.

Let me be perfectly clear. It's one thing to express your opinion. The First Amendment of our Constitution allows for freedom of speech, and the fact that it's the FIRST Amendment tells you how important our Founding Fathers thought it was to have such a freedom. And furthermore, if you'll note this very post, above, you'll see that I myself expressed my opinion, and said "I don't like abortions." So I'm NOT against people expressing their opinion; it's what this country was born to do.

All that said, it is another thing ENTIRELY to attempt to foist your opinion on someone else. Like the fucking decision isn't difficult ENOUGH already? You feel the need to make these people feel even worse? Fuck you.

Once again. If you're not either A) Related to the mother, B) Responsible for the child, or C) Willing to pay 100% of the expenses that bringing the child into the world will accrue (food, medical, clothing, diapers, etc.), then guess what?

YOU HAVE NO SAY. Leave the potential parents to make their fucking decision in peace.

And God, whatever you assholes do, PLEASE . . .

Stay classy

"With Extreme Prejudice" - You Guessed it, Another WTF?

Readership, before I get into this Observation, let me say this. There is a LOT of shit going on in my life right now (most of it on the so-so side of the line, leaning towards FML). Of all that stuff, the one thing I can actually do anything about is a major essay (a midterm essay, in fact) that's due in my History class tomorrow night at 6:50 . . . an essay, mind you, that I haven't started. I have full confidence that I'll finish it before the deadline, but in the meantime, in true "stupidass college kid throwing his education away" fashion, I'm going to procrastinate by writing this (and perchance, even more Observations!?). So yeah. Enjoy the fruits of my procrastination/fucking-up-my-life-ery.

Anyway.

The phrase "with extreme prejudice" has always baffled me just a little bit. It's just an awkward phrase - look at it: EXTREME prejudice? Is there another, lesser, not-as-extreme version of prejudice? I wasn't around during the Civil Rights Movement and all that, but from what I've read about it, shit got pretty extreme - I mean it doesn't get much more extreme than tear gas, German Shepherds and high-pressure hoses, does it?

The term comes up a lot in military applications, and thus comes up a lot MORE in military-themed video games. I played one such game (I think it was SOCOM Fireteam Bravo on PSP), where my main objective was to infiltrate a known terrorist stronghold and neutralize the cell "with extreme prejudice." To put that in layman's terms, they wanted me to sneak into the bad guys' hideout and kill them all REALLY REALLY HARD. Which is ridiculous. Think about it - how the hell am I supposed to kill them HARD? There aren't degrees of death. Either you're dead or you're alive.

I can understand saying something like "take no prisoners" which would put me in the mind that if it moves, breathes and might have a gun, it's cool for me to shoot it repeatedly until it doesn't move or breathe anymore. But "neutralize the cell with extreme prejudice" is just silly. What do you want me to do, shoot the terrorists dead and then defecate on their bodies? Really, what more can I do to them after they're dead?

So yeah. "With extreme prejudice" is a stupid term. Bitches.

Stay classy

Idiots . . .

Readership, I'm gonna be quick with this one A) because I'm tired as HELL and B) because I'm trying to peep this Yankee game.

But I promised my cousin, electronics and computer guy, creative partner, supplier of all things, and all-around badass Jay that I would bitch about this. And bitch I shall.

Notice, if you will, the picture above. This sign is attached to a wrought-iron gate that's closed 99% of the time, which "guards" the shared driveway between my cousin's house and the neighbor's house. The neighbors, who act as if they're severely retarded, made this sign.

Now, I'm not sure how many of you live in New York (City or State), but for the benefit of those who don't, I'll say this: dialing 311 in New York will give you NY Information. In Connecticut, and most other states (as far as I know), the number to dial for Information is 411 (hence the phrase, "what's the 411?").

In case you haven't gotten the point yet, let me lay it out. These dumb fucks, in an attempt to intimidate anybody who would think "hmm this looks like a good place to park" (because between my cousin, my aunt and my grandma - the three people who live in the house - NONE OF THEM HAVE A CAR), threatened to call Information if someone parks in the driveway.

"Information, how may I help you?"
"There is a car parked illegally in the driveway!"
"Well sir, not to be rude, but WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?"
". . . oh shit, this is Information. Not the police."
"No shit. Have a nice day."
Click!

Anyway. There you go Jay. Keep it pimpin' pimpin',

And as for the rest of you.

Stay classy

Shoes That Make Noise

BUG THE SHIT OUTTA ME. I dunno how people wear shoes that make a loud noise EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU TAKE A STEP (unless they're tap dancers. I fucks with that). As a ninja, I move silently all day every day. If with every step I took, I made so much fuckin' noise, I'd have to kill someone.

Sheesh.

Stay classy

THE APOCALYPSE!

Readership, for the past few years, I'm sure you've been hearing about how the Mayans supposedly predicted that the world as we know it would cease to exist in the near future - specifically, on Friday December 21, 2012. Everyone has SOMETHING to say about it, whether it's Bible-thumpers that are saying the Mayans are full of shit, or so-called "scholars" that say that there is a high probability that this might happen, given the past history of the Mayans and their predictions, or the followers of Nostradamus (who apparently predicted every bad thing that's ever happened in the last few centuries), or the fucking geniuses that are milking the whole 12/21/2012 thing for all its worth by making a movie about it (which I'll probably see).

However, they're all full of shit. And what's better, I can prove it. A bold claim, you say? Do I hear a clamor for evidence? Fuck yeah I do. And I've got it. Read on!

Let's talk about these Nostradamus-following idiots - but first, let's play a quick little game. It's called "Completely Nonsensical Statement or Nostradamus' Prophecy?" The way you play the game is pretty simple. Below, I'm going to give you four statements. Your job is to guess if each statement is either A) a completely nonsensical statement or B) a prophecy made by the apparently omniscient Michele de Nostradame (aka Nostradamus). Simple enough right? Ready? Okay - go!

1. Sitting alone at night in secret study; it is placed on the brass tripod. A slight flame comes out of emptiness and makes successful that which should not be believed in vain.

2. The cry of the child is only heard by the few; the silence by the many. With great winds the third day will come and with it darkness that only the light can cure.

3. Through anger and internal hatreds, the exiles will hatch a plot against the king. Secretly they will place enemies as a threat, and his own old adherents will find sedition against them.

4. The prince of light will return in a time of sadness. He will alight upon his palace, only to find it cloaked in darkness and full of woe.

So there you have it. Four statements. Now it's your turn to try and discover which ones are completely nonsensical statements and which ones are actual prophecies from Nostradamus.

Stumped? Okay, here are the answers: 1. Nostradamus; 2. Completely nonsensical statement; 3. Nostradamus; 4. Completely nonsensical statement.

The point I'm trying to make here is, if I hadn't told you which was which, would you have been able to tell the difference - DEFINITIVELY? That means without guessing and just happening to be right. If you can, power to you. But if, as I believe, you can't, then what the hell are you worried about? Some nonsense that can be interpreted freely and differently by almost anyone reading it?

Now, let's look at the Mayans. We all know that their calendar ends December 21, 2012, but that's it. Just because their calendar ends, doesn't mean the WORLD ends. When the Spanish invaded the Mayan lands, they burned almost every book and scripture they could find. So, based on that, a second Mayan calendar, going from December 22, 2012 to some far-future date, COULD have existed, but was just lost in the burnings.

But let's say that the Mayans DID predict apocalypse on December 21, 2012 (WHICH THEY DIDN'T). Apocalypse doesn't necessarily mean the literal "end" of the world. It could mean the end of an aspect of the world, or a revelation, or an end to the old and the bad and a bringing in of the new and the good. By that definition, for example, during the time of the Emancipation Proclamation and the end of slavery, for the slaveowners it was definitely an apocalypse. The old way of evil slavery was abolished, bringing in a new way of good freedom (which, as it happened, would take quite a bit more time afterward to actually bring to 100% fruition).

So yeah. Shut the fuck up about all this 2012 shit. And really, if it's written in some cosmic book that we're all going to die on December 21, 2012, and it's gonna happen and there's nothing we can do about it, then fuck it - stop worrying. It won't help. We've all gotta die someday.

Man the fuck up!

And whatever you do

Stay classy

A Revelation

Readership, I'll be honest with you - there are many things in this world that I don't understand. According to Socrates, that makes me quite intelligent. Let's hope so.

But I digress.

One of these things that I don't understand is how women wear shoes that they KNOW hurt their feet immensely. I recently had a discussion about just that with R n' R, which went a little like this:

Me: Why do you wear shoes that you KNOW hurt your feet?
Her: They're cute.
Me: But they hurt your feet.
Her: But they're cute, and they make me a few inches taller [side note, she's about 5'2" barefoot]
Me: But THEY HURT YOUR FEET. Does that not matter?
Her: They're cute. That's all that matters.

By that logic, as long as it looks good, women will do/wear something painful and deal with the pain with a smile. Men, however, don't play that shit. If something we're wearing is causing us physical pain, UNLESS WEARING IT SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASES OUR CHANCES OF A SEXUAL ENCOUNTER (in ALL seriousness, I say that with the utmost respect for all the beautiful women out there), we're taking that shit off ASAP.

It's really that simple.

So I got to thinking about this, and then my Psychology Major skills kicked in and I drew a very interesting and sensible conclusion.

Women knowingly and purposefully wear shoes that hurt them, in a subconscious attempt to build up a high pain tolerance for the dreadfully terrible pain that's involved in childbirth.

If your mind has just been blown out the back of your head and is splattered against the wall behind you, don't worry. You're not alone.

While you're cleaning that up, though, I'm out. Got laundry and essays to do.

Stay classy

To All My Indian/Arab Brothers

Note: This, like this, is not a racist post. Really. I have Indian and Arab friends. From sixth to eighth grade one of my best friends (and partners in crime) was Arab. I know a hilarious Indian kid back home. Once again, if you know me, you know I'm not racist, I'm just telling it like it is. And once again, if you don't know me and think I'm being racist, you know what you can go do to yourself.
End of commercial!

As the title of the post implies, this post goes out to all my Indian and Arab brothers. I'm gonna be straight with you guys - just because you're Indian and Arab does NOT make you sexy as fuck, nor does it make you badass, nor does it make you "the shit." I mean having self-confidence is one thing (and power to you if you have it, because that takes a certain caliber of person). But when you're just cocky as hell and think you're God's gift to the world, I have to put my foot down. And when I hear you guys calling each other "nigga," I have to put my foot down hard.

Just sayin'. I love you guys (no rainbow, as A-Ham aka Tenth Sheisty says), but you need to chill the fuck out.

And everybody, you know what all of YOU need to do

Stay classy