Legally Blind Observations

Special Thanks

2010-05-09T11:32:00.005-04:00

Readership, as this is my last post ever on Legally Blind Observations here on Blogger, I just thought I'd do a little "thank you" post.

First, to Dr. Becker, my freshman year DNY professor. If she hadn't told us to make a blog for class, I would never have started Legally Blind Observations. Thanks for that Dr. Becker.

Second, to Maria, my first reader (even though I kinda forced it on her. haha).

Third, to A-Ham aka Tenth Dollar and Maeron aka the Purp, who were the first to randomly make my day by telling me that they read this hunk of dookie, and moreover, that they enjoyed it.

And lastly, to everybody else who has ever read this and gotten a laugh, or felt the need to comment and make me laugh, or to show how much of an asshole they were (cough), I thank you. You definitely made these past couple years pretty flippin' awesome.

Hopefully, the win will continue over at Tumblr. See you there!

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

Children's Television Shows Upset Me

2010-05-09T11:04:00.011-04:00

Before I start, it's with great sadness that I say that this will be my final Observation here on Blogger. It's been a good two years, but I'm not one to go against progress, so you'll have to go to Tumblr for your Legally Blind Observation fix in the future (this post is also available on Tumblr, of course).

Anyway.

Readership, as you remember, I have a thing about children's television shows, and now I'm back because, once again, I've found something that pisses me off.

First off, the Wiggles. What THE fuck. When my sister was younger, she used to watch it all the time, and I would be forced to sit there and make sure she didn't blow the house up, thus being forced to watch the Wiggles myself.

ALL THEY DO IS SING AND MAKE FRUIT SALAD. That's not only a pointless existence (they don't even eat the fruit salad!), but the strangest combination of activities to make up your occupation that I've ever encountered. I mean I can understand that some jobs have you do some weird shit, but sing as part of a four-man group, and make fruit salad that NOBODY EATS? That's fucking retarded.

As an aside, I think most of my anger stems from the fact that I love fruit salad, and feel as though these strange grown-ass men in purple shirts are disrespecting me and the fruit salad every time they make some and nobody gets to eat it.

I digress.

Secondly, we have Scooby Doo. Now, don't start with that "don't hate on Scooby Doo" shit, because I love Scooby Doo, and I always have, but come the hell on. "Ohhhh noes it's a pirate ghost he's chasing us runnnnn!" Nah, fuck that, BEAT HIS ASS. If you had a single black or Hispanic guy in "the gang," the longest episode of Scooby Doo would've been about five minutes. The ghost or witch or monster or whatever would've shown up and tried to scare everybody away, and the brother/boriquen would've been like "fuck you bitch!" and beat the shit outta him. Then Velma would've come through and unmasked him, and everybody would be confused because nobody would have any clues as to why whoever was under the mask was doing what he was doing, but the brother/boriquen would tell them that it's not our fucking job to investigate crimes, that's what the police are for. They have their suspect, he's caught red-handed in the midst of a crime, throw him in jail and then figure out why he's there (isn't that what police do anyway?). Of course, as a brother/boriquen, he would know that the police rarely do anything correctly (including and especially their jobs), but still, he would know even more that it wasn't his job to do the cops' job, even if the cops weren't doing it.

Lastly, and definitely the one that pisses me off the most, is Dora the Explorer. There's just SO MUCH wrong with the message it's sending to kids. Where the hell are her parents? How the hell do they think it's okay for their 7-year-old daughter to go out on a fucking adventure into the wilderness with a talking monkey and a talking backpack? Kids are highly impressionable these days, and they'll see this shit and think that it's all good to do the same shit, but if they try that, you know for damn sure they're not gonna be met with a LOT worse than a bitchass semi-clepto fox dressed as a bandit.

And speaking of Swiper, what the fuck kind of thief is he? How the hell does "Swiper no swiping!" stop you dead in your tracks? It would be more like:

"Swiper no swiping! Swiper no-"
BAM BAM BAM.
"Swipe muh Glock 9, bitch, that's MY talking backpack."

Stay classy

Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit? Volume 9

2010-05-07T16:44:00.014-04:00

Once again, before I start this, know that this post is also available in its entirety on Tumblr. There will be only one more post after this one made here on Blogger, before the switch is made permanently to Tumblr, so make sure you migrate on over there if you want your Legally Blind Observations fix!

Anyway.

Readership, I'm gonna level with you. This past week or so has been so obscenely and ridiculously full of absolutely undiluted pure win that I really haven't had much to bitch about. As such, this is going to be the first time I've gone back-to-back with "Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit?" and only the second time I've ever gone back-to-back with any "feature" (the other time was here and here, with back-to-back "Blame X for Y" posts).

Now, to the Observation.

First off, we have a favorite question asked around exam time in high schools and colleges nationwide.

"How many questions are on the test?"

What the hell does that matter? Are you OCD, and unable to take a test with an odd number of questions? The number of questions is entirely irrelevant; aren't you going to take the test no matter how many questions there are? If the professor says there are 29823729401 questions, if it's a final, and you give a shit about your grades, you know damn well you're gonna take the test. You might bitch and moan about it the whole time (shit, I know I would - that's almost 30 billion questions!), but you would definitely take that test, and three days later (when you actually finished it), you'd think you were the shit. Don't even lie.

Secondly, something said during most emergency situations, or drills for emergency situations: "Please move calmly in a single-file line towards the exit."

NAH BITCH GET THE FUCK OUT MUH WAY I'M 'BOUT TO DIE!

Seriously though, how the hell are you gonna tell me to move calmly away from that RAGING CONFLAGRATION behind us? I understand that losing your head in an emergency is what gets you and people you care about hurt or killed unnecessarily, but still. When there's some terrible shit going down around me - fire, explosions, gunshots, etc. - the LAST thing on my mind is being calm. I want to get the FUCK OUTTA THERE. I'll be calm when I'm several miles away and the probability that I'll die off some dumb shit is a little diminished.

Lastly, the action of making your bed. While it's "technically" not something you say, it's still fucking ridiculous. I mean, look at it logically. What's going to happen to your bed the next time you use it? Depending on how old you are and what your housing situation is, you're either gonna sleep in it or screw in it, and unless you're a quadriplegic, doing either is gonna un-make your bed. So what the fuck.

Stay classy

Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit? Volume 8

2010-04-28T10:14:00.012-04:00

Readership, I'm no longer surprised that I continue to find stupid shit people say. So I'm gonna skip the "can you believe it?" and get right to the nitty-gritty. Also, as an aside, this post will also be available in its entirety on Tumblr.

First off, we have something courtesy of Hannah aka H-Rose (who, bless her, seems to deal with a bunch of morons, because she's had a hand in the last two or three iterations of this segment. that's true classiness right there). Let's look at a sample conversation to illustrate this.

Student: Professor, how do you spell the musical term, "ritornello?"
MUSIC PROFESSOR: Look it up.

What the hell? "Look it up"? I don't give a shit about the definition, I just want to know how to spell it, dick. And you, being a MUSIC professor, should know how to spell it. Now, if YOU don't know how to spell it, that's a different story, but even if that's the case, man the fuck up and tell me so we can look it up together and learn something and further our intelligence and shit. Don't be a bitch about it.

Secondly, we have the phrase "fresh-picked." People see "fresh-picked" on advertisements for fruits and vegetables and immediately think "wow, this must be some good shit!"

WRONG. "Fresh-picked" has absolutely nothing to do with freshness of the actual fruit or vegetable. For example, say I'm a farmer. I have a grove of the absolute nastiest apples you've ever seen in your life. I can go through my grove and find the single nastiest apple that the Earth has ever bore. It'll be a Red Delicious, but it will be blue. There will be holes all over it, a coddling moth caterpillar would've done this to it on the inside (and yes, I actually bit into that apple), and I would've sprayed it with so many pesticides that I need a Hazmat suit before I can even get within ten feet of it. But after I get my Hazmat suit on, I could go up to it and pick it right off the tree and hand it to you, and guess what? That apple, as nasty as it is, would still be "fresh-picked." And you, good sir/madam, would be shit outta luck.

Lastly, we have the excuse of "thinking out loud."

Bob: Man, I gotta get that .44 magnum . . . and the sleeping pills. How am I gonna distract Tim so I can put it in his beer and shoot him . . . hmmm . . .
Tim: Uhh, what the fuck?
Bob: Oh! Sorry bro I'm just thinking out loud. Haha.

The fuck? I have several problems with "thinking out loud." First of all, I call bullshit. You're not thinking out loud, you're talking to yourself, you got caught, and now you're making up some bullshit excuse so that whoever caught you doesn't think you're nuttier than squirrel shit. Secondly, why the hell would you think out loud? Your mind (aka where us normal folks do most of our thinking), is a limitless place, where all five senses can be experienced simultaneously. Why would you leave this PERFECT thinking place, where anything you can imagine can be played out in a zillion ways, to narrow your thinking to only words and sound? Are you a retard?

The last time I used "thinking out loud" as an excuse, I almost got my ass beat. My mom was pissing me off when I was around nine years old, and under my breath I said "shut the hell up bitch." She heard me, and I told her I was just thinking out loud. As she started chasing me, I told her that it was an Eminem lyric, which she almost believed, then remembered that I didn't listen to Eminem, and chased me around the house and out into the street.

Thank God I've got Kenyan speed, or else I wouldn't be here today.

But yeah. People say some stupid shit.

Stay classy

I'm Gonna Take a Tumbl...r

2010-04-28T10:03:00.003-04:00

Readership, progress is a beautiful thing, and I'm not one to shit on beautiful things, so I have a bit of news. Starting with the next post (a rousing investigation into our favorite paradoxical question of "Why do you say such stupid shit?"), Legally Blind Observations will be posted both here on Blogger and over at Tumblr. This will continue for a few posts, and then the switch will be made completely and permanently to Tumblr.

Why the change? Nothing against Blogger at all. Blogger has served me quite faithfully these past couple of years. However, Tumblr attracts a lot more readers than Blogger does, and everybody and their mother seems to have a Tumblr. Just like the decision I made when I realized that everybody and their mother had a Twitter (a decision which went against a moral stance I'd taken previously), I'm realizing that it's time to embrace this next big thing and make the move to Tumblr.

So once again, the short version. Legally Blind Observations will be posted simultaneously on Blogger and Tumblr for the next three posts, and upon the fourth, EXCLUSIVELY at Tumblr. I will post a link in the final post here (which by my calculations will be post #197) to the Tumblr blog, and a link back here on the Tumblr blog.

Stay classy

Ford's Swap Your Ride - Could it be? Yes, ANOTHER WTF?

2010-04-15T19:05:00.011-04:00

Readership, I've been watching a bit more television these days, and I've stumbled upon a new batch of car commercials. Ford has started this sales event, wherein they go to a random-ass person who drives something other than a Ford, and swap that person's vehicle for the closest Ford equivalent. For example, if the person is driving a Chevy Cobalt, they'll switch it for the Ford Fusion, etc. The kicker? The person who's getting their car swapped out doesn't know about it; nor do they give their consent.

Ford Swap Your Ride? Nah bitch, more like Ford SWIPE Your Ride. Where I'm from, that shit would get you shot or arrested, depending on whether you got caught by the car's owner or the cops.

I digress.

In the commercials, every one is all "heyyy we swapped your ride out for a Ford yayyy" and then the person who owned the non-Ford is all "oh my goshhhh you guysss okayyy I'll drive it" etc. etc. And then Mike Rowe (that old guy from "Dirty Jobs" on Discovery Channel) tells them all this sales pitch bullshit about the Ford they're driving, and then at the end they're all sold about getting rid of their non-Ford to get a Ford.

First of all, I'm calling bullshit. If, after driving a Ford, I was sooo impressed that I wanted to get rid of my non-Ford and then buy a Ford, I would first have to sell my non-Ford. I dunno about you, Readership, but my dad's been trying to sell his 1981 Corvette for about two years now. Maybe more. In this recession, it's almost impossible to sell a car because nobody wants to buy one because nobody has any money. Also, how the hell am I gonna be able to sell my non-Ford when everybody's seen these commercials detailing how fucking awesome Fords are and how shitty non-Fords are? Who wants a shitty non-Ford?

Secondly, what the fuck? I hope, that if/when I get a car and if it's not a Ford (which it probably won't be, because my family has owned two Fords and they both blew major donkey balls), that my friends are smart enough to know that randomly swapping my car out for a Ford without my consent will piss me right the fuck off. It's MY SHIT. What gives anybody the idea that basically stealing someone's car to make a point is okay?

The fact that it's stealing aside, people put some very sensitive shit in their car sometimes. The heavier you are into, shall we say, shady dealings, the more this would piss you off, and/or call for idiots getting fitted for cement shoes.

"Hey Carlito! We swapped out your Mercedes CLK for a Ford Fusion! Mira, it's Mike Rowe!"
"WHAT THE FUCK? Venga, Paco - GET THAT FUCKING CAMERA OUTTA HERE! Paco, where's my car?"
"N-no se man, calmate, what's wrong?"
"Puto, there's six kilos of coke in the running boards and taped under the seats, and I was supposed to deliver the car in twenty minutes. We're fucking DEAD, CULO!"

Or something to that degree.

Bottom line, just because you have a camera crew and a quote-unquote "celebrity," does NOT mean that if you steal my car - steal my car, moreover, to replace it with a piece of ABSOLUTE SHIT - you won't get your ass kicked. I've said it once, and I'll say it again: I'm not afraid to beat an old man's ass in public.

Bring it on Mike Rowe. Old ass bitch.

As for you, Readership. You know what to do already.

Stay classy

Racism

2010-04-15T18:37:00.008-04:00

Readership, if you'll recall, I'm very serious about equal rights. This is no joke. Racism, segregation, and the lack of diversity in America are still things that people think are all gone. If you think that this is true, you're still wrong.

Racism is alive and well in America. It pulses with every step of the KKK and every dribble of the basketball in this asshole's basketball league. There is not a single man, woman, or child who knows what racism is, that hasn't had a racist thought. I've had a racist thought. You've had a racist thought. Your momma's had a racist thought. Everybody has.

But this post isn't about the KKK. It isn't about that asshole or his whites-only basketball league (or the hilarious media coverage that he got). It isn't about your momma being a big, nasty, filthy racist.

The racism to which I'm referring is this:
Why is it, that when it comes to the new KFC Doubledown Sandwich, a sandwich made almost entirely of fried chicken, ALL THE IMPORTANT PEOPLE IN THE COMMERCIALS ARE BLACK!?

Stay classy

For the Ladies

2010-04-13T13:53:00.004-04:00

Readership, maybe it's the smell of spring in the air, but I've been noticing a marked increase in what I'd like to call "Oblivious Romantic Attachment." Since today is Opening Day for the New York Yankees, and I'm watching the game now, I'm going to keep this short and sweet. Peep it.

Ladies. If you have a male best friend, who is always down to chill, always there when you want to vent about some asshole, always down to beat the absolute shit out of a random stranger just because he looks at you funny, always okay with buying you stuff and taking you places, etc. etc., if he's not gay, he's totally and completely crazy about you.

Now, with this new-found knowledge, don't just drop it all on him - don't be like "so are you crazy about me?" Because 99% of the time he'll deny it flatly and lie right to your face. You ladies are crafty - feminine wiles and all that shit - so use some of that to see how he really feels, and if you feel the same way, let him know. There's always the chance that he's just a REALLY good guy friend and has nothing but friendly feelings towards you. But it wouldn't kill you to use all your feminine wiles and shit to figure it out. Just to be sure.

Because I've been there, and let me tell you, it's hard to dry the tears off my shoulder after some guy was a dick, and to listen to the whole "I can't find any good guys" speech, and the whole "I want my husband to be my best friend" speech, while all the while I'm standing right there, fulfilling every requirement for her "perfect man" or whatever, and still shit out of luck.

No, this isn't happening currently. I'm happily single. But it's happened before, and I'm trying to prevent it from happening any more. Baby steps.

Stay classy

Real Men Wear Pink?

2010-04-11T18:58:00.015-04:00

Readership, this whole "real men wear pink" movement has finally gotten to the top of the "PISSIN' ME OFF!" pile, and now I have to address it.

Pink has been, is, and always will be a girl's color. My generation learned this through watching Power Rangers. There was never, is not currently, and never will be, a male Pink Ranger. Recently, they tried a season where they made the Yellow Ranger a dude and the Blue Ranger a chick.

That shit didn't last long.

But back on topic.

The whole argument for the "real men wear pink" thing is pretty damn asinine. Basically, these fools believe that a "real man" wears pink because a "real man" is manly enough and secure enough to do so. From a psychological and self-esteem view, they might have a point - but even if they do, it's flimsy bullshit at best.

On top of that, I have several facts that shoot their "real men wear pink" bullshit dogma down to shit. And I'll list them below, just cuz I know you're lookin' to read 'em.

First of all, we look to modern-day advertising campaigns. There are a lot of quote-unquote "manly" things that we see advertised on television. For example, pickup trucks, grills, and professional sports teams and their related indicia (apparel, stationary, etc.). Yet, in the advertising campaigns for these products that are widely recognized as "manly," there's a very curious lack of anything pink.

I've never seen a guy wearing anything pink in one of those hard-fucking-core, drop-two-tons-of-cinder-blocks-into-muh-pickup-so-it-kinda-bounces-and-dust-goes-flying-but-I-don't-care-cuz-I'm-a-manly-man pickup truck commercials, and I don't think I've ever seen a pink pickup truck at ALL, be it on TV, in a movie, or in real life. Shit, I don't even think I've ever seen a pink pickup truck in a comicbook or a cartoon. In the two places where there are NO RULES, there are STILL no pink pickup trucks.

Also, when's the last time you saw a pink grill? The only thing pink that EVER touches a man's grill is raw meat. And it doesn't stay pink for long. Because it gets grilled to perfection - if he's a real man.

Ditto for pink in professional sports. The only time you see pink clothing on a professional sports player is when they're playing the game for Breast Cancer, which is the only time a real man should be wearing pink. I hear all you "real men wear pink" dickheads screaming from deep something about pink baseball caps, and I tell you in reply, "shut up, they were made for chicks." And they were, so shut up.

If you don't get the significance of the fact that advertisement campaigns for manly shit NEVER include pink, for one, you're a loon, and for another, I'll have to explain. The SINGLE GOAL of advertisement is for you to buy whatever's being advertised. If you see an ad and buy the product, they've succeeded. If you see an ad and keep on walking, they've failed. Thus, logically they structure their ads to maximize effectiveness, and target their market accordingly.

If you're still not getting it, let me lay it out flat for you: knowing that they're selling manly things to real men, and knowing that they have to maximize their effectiveness with that target market, advertising departments DELIBERATELY LEAVE OUT PINK. Know why?

BECAUSE REAL MEN DON'T WEAR PINK.

Still not convinced? Then you're an idiot, but I'll give you irrefutable proof right now. If you don't believe that real men DON'T wear pink after this next bit, that means a) you're not a real man and b) you're wearing pink for some other reason that I'll leave to you and your psychologist to uncover.

Let's make a list of the top five manliest men. Obviously, this list would vary depending on who you asked, but we'll just assume (for argument's sake) that my list is representative of what the average man would list as his manliest men (as statistics slowly creeps into my non-academic life...).

Anyway, top five manliest men, in no particular order (besides the first one, obviously):
1. Chuck Norris
2. Clint Eastwood
3. Andrew Jackson
4. Sean Connery
5. Grigori Rasputin

If you "real men" in your pink shirts would take a gander, you'd notice two things that each of those five men have in common.

First off, they're INFINITELY manlier than you are, and infinitely to INFINITY manlier than you'll EVER be.

AND SECONDLY, THEY'RE NOT WEARING PINK!

Stay classy

Arbitrary Value

2010-04-09T19:11:00.014-04:00

Readership, I noticed something that bothered me slightly today. There are a lot of things that have value, most of which are sold (like products and services). Most of them have clear values, usually based on the costs incurred during the process of manufacturing the products (materials, utilities at the manufacturing plant, salaries, etc.), or the manufacturing processes of making the products that are used in the service provided, as well as labor, etc.

However, there are some things for which there are simply no empirically identifiable values. For example, in those commercials for eHarmony, they say that they'll give you their Personality Profile for free, and stress the fact that it's a $40 value, and that you're getting for free.

I would really like to know how they came to that value. What were your calculations? Dr. Neil Clark Warren has been a Christian Life Counselor for like 30 something years, so are you paying for his experience? That's ridiculous (obviously).

But let's just say, for the sake of an argument, that you actually ARE paying for his 30 something years of experience. Thus, I would have to ask, a) how do you put a value on experience, and b) how the HELL are THIRTY-PLUS YEARS' EXPERIENCE worth only $40?

RIDDLE ME THAT BITCHES!

And whatever you do

Stay classy

College Apparel

2010-04-06T15:55:00.003-04:00

Readership, as I ate my delicious sammich today at lunch, I realized something about college apparel. And then, in an amazing attack of serendipity, I realized something ELSE about college apparel. I was so excited, I had to tell you!

My first realization was centered around the fact that people have this strange habit of wearing college apparel from colleges that they've never attended (even while currently attending a different college). I just don't get it.

Now, it's far from me to tell anybody what to wear or anything like that, and please don't take what I'm about to say as me doing so, but when it comes to this sort of thing, the litmus test (for me, anyway) is a little something I like to call the "ridiculous answer" test. To clarify, that means that if someone were to ask you a question regarding the college apparel you were wearing (for example, "Oh, nice sweater. You go to Yale?"), and your only TRUTHFUL answer (and that's important!) would be some variation of "no" followed by something ridiculous (for example, "Nope, I take online courses at the University of Phoenix. I just like the colors. Matches my Best Buy uniform.") then you SHOULD NOT BE WEARING THAT COLLEGE APPAREL.

In my mind, there are only four scenarios where it would be okay for you to wear college apparel for a college that you don't attend. One, if your parent(s) and/or sibling(s) currently attend or used to attend that school, it's cool to wear that school's shit. Two, if this school is in some sort of college sports competition (including but not limited to the NCAA basketball tournament) - AND IS NOT AGAINST YOUR ACTUAL COLLEGE OF RESIDENCE - it's cool to wear their shit to show support as a fan. Three, if the apparel in question was free. However, I would still (personally) frown upon the wearing of said apparel in public, and would probably ask you "wtf," but if you told me it was free I'd probably be like "oh okay." Four, if you're in high school and have yet to receive acceptance and rejection letters from prospective colleges, you can wear whatever college shit you want. I think you'd look like an idiot, but technically since you could end up at any one of them, it'd be legit on paper.

Otherwise, what the fuck.

Whew.

Secondly, I realized that the whole point of wearing college apparel for your own college is the fact that you have pride in your school. Quick disclaimer: I know that a college education, no matter what institution it's from, is miles better than a high school diploma or GED equivalent, and that the people who graduate from community college or online colleges aren't any less accomplished or intelligent than people who graduate from Yale and Harvard. I'm pretty sure my mom graduated from a community college for her undergrad shit, and she's a fucking genius.

That said, let's face it, there are some schools that you should not have pride in attending. These include, but are not limited to, Stone Academy, the Sawyer School, ITT Tech, and any and all online-only universities. Wearing a DeVry University sweatshirt in public equates to you saying something along the lines of "Look at me, I got into DeVry!"

Must've been really hard for you, huh? All you had to do was open the fuckin' door.

Stay classy

Fitted Caps - Secretly Fucking Your Brain Up?

2010-03-30T10:35:00.016-04:00

Readership, in the past four days I've noticed something that I've found quite strange. Between my time spent in the club on Saturday night, and my time spent watching a Wale video (with no sound) while at breakfast, I noticed that when people wear fitted caps (such as those from Lids), they have this strange tendency to spin them around and continuously rearrange them on their heads, constantly, and for seemingly no reason.

I looked at people wearing other types of headwear, however, and noticed a distinct lack of constant rearrangery - and shockingly, non-fitted caps (even of the same team as their fitted counterparts!) were not constantly rearranged and spun around the dome. Ski caps remained firmly in place (even if "in place" equated to dangerously dangling off the back of the head, in most cases), skullies weren't messed with, and the only possible exception was fedoras, which were given that little swipe across the front of the brim to accentuate the fact that the person was, indeed, wearing a sexy-ass fedora.

This leads me to postulate that there is something inherent in Fitted Caps (as they are now known to be some kind of unexplained entity, their name will become a proper noun) that almost forces someone to constantly arrange and rearrange them while wearing them, which serves no purpose practically or aesthetically.

With that said, I go further and theorize that Fitted Caps were invented and developed by the Feds, and as soon as they touch someone's head, they begin to secretly leech out information pertaining to whereabouts, illegal habits, and daily schedules. Every time information is leached and transmitted, the Fitted Cap sends a signal directly into your nervous system that makes you raise your arm up and rearrange the Fitted Cap, so it can get at a different area of your cortex and get more information. It's all a part of what I like to call the Federal Keeping the Black Man Down Act. Allow me to explain this a little further.

The Federal Keeping the Black Man Down Act was secretly enacted in 2009 after Oprah used her considerable influence to push it quietly through the House and the Senate, and since Oprah is Oprah, Barrack Obama signed that shit into law without hesitation.

IT'S NOT HIS FAULT. THIS IS OPRAH WE'RE TALKIN' ABOUT HERE.

I digress.

Don't take this the wrong way, but if there was a chart that displayed which ethnic group wore fitted caps most by percentage, African Americans would be at the top - and the government knows this (fucking Census!), and uses the Fitted Caps to implement the Federal Keeping the Black Man Down Act and exploit this knowledge.

That said, don't think that just because you're not black that the Federal Keeping the Black Man Down Act doesn't work on you. The Federal Keeping the Black Man Down Act works on EVERYBODY - all you have to do is wear a fitted. How do you think they caught Bernie Madoff? He was in the mall, saw a Lids store and thought "hmm. maybe I should go see about copping me the ill Yankees fitted, perchance?" The minute he tried that first Fitted Cap on, the FBI froze his assets and by the time he got home they were waiting to bust his ass and steal his Coldstone (cuz he got some on the way out of the mall).

So yeah. Beware the Fitted Caps!

And whatever you do

Stay classy

A Long (and Long-Overdue) Rant

2010-03-29T20:10:00.000-04:00

Readership, I apologize. I feel that I've been very on and off with you this month. Looking at the number of Observations for this month, and the spacing of them time-wise throughout the month, it doesn't seem like I've been so spotty, but I can't shake the feeling that I have.

But fear not! In this one day I've witnessed and read about several things that pissed me right the hell off, and thus, you're in for a muchly needed, long-overdue rant. Enjoy!

These past few months in the Tri-State area, it's been raining like a bitch. There have been miniature swamps that I've had to ninja over. And it's been sneakily heavy sometimes too, like a fat ninja (aka Finja). I'd be walking and suddenly HELLO FUCKING DOWNPOUR.

With this knowledge under our belts, I put the question to you: why do people wear FLIP-FLOPS WHEN IT'S RAINING CATS AND DOGS? Do you LIKE that dirty wet feeling between your toes, borne of rain and/or dirty ass puddles with dog shit and God knows what else floating in it?

Oh you do? Cool.

Secondly, people who air out their private business in very public places, like, I dunno, Facebook. There was this couple last year that I was friends with on Facebook (I won't name names, because I'm not an asshole), that was on again, off again, on again, off again - every few fucking days they were back and forth between "go fuck yourself!" and "I luv youuuu <333" and it was the most annoying thing ever. There was one status that the guy had, which was something like "I'm losing the one thing that means the most to me, and there's no way I can stop it." I can sympathize with that, because I've been there too.

But then the chick comes through talking all this shit, and he's trying to get a word in but she's just shitting on him again and again and again, until he was just like "I'm done." But of course, she kept going. I logged on Facebook and saw this fucking EPIC POEM and I thought to myself "seriously? what the fuck."

THE PHONE WAS INVENTED FOR A REASON. You don't wanna hear his/her voice? It'll cause too much pain? TEXT THAT BITCH/ASSHOLE. Jump on AIM. If you HAVE to be on Facebook, there's this lovely thing called Facebook Chat. It's like AIM, but on Facebook. And if you don't like that (and nobody does), there are always private messages you can send on Facebook.

Point is: DON'T AIR YOUR PRIVATE SHIT OUT IN PUBLIC, YOU'RE PISSIN' PEOPLE OFF.

Thirdly, courtesy of Carlos aka Pimp-C. There are a couple ways to see what's for dinner when you walk into a dining hall. One, depending on how the place is laid out, you might be able to see what's good for food from the door. Also, you could see what people have on their plates. Third, if you're possessed of a sensitive nose, you can sniff out what's cookin'.

There's one way, however, that you don't want to find out what's for dinner: by seeing it BEING CHEWED INSIDE SOMEONE'S MOUTH.

HEY! LLAMA-LOOKIN', MOUTH-BREATHIN' DOUCHEBAGS! CLOSE YOUR MOUTH WHEN YOU CHEW! Ain't your momma taught you any better than that? Shit.

Lastly, this is probably one of the most annoying things that's happened to me this month. Tonight, I was in Monty's (the main dining hall on campus), making a sammich. The way they have the sammich-making area laid out is as follows: first, there's the bread. There's white, wheat, and some other weird brown shit, and then rolls (kaiser, hoagie, etc.). Then there's the meat (ha), which is usually ham, turkey and roast beef/corned beef. Then there's the cheese (American and Swiss, sometimes provolone too), and then the salad-ish shit (egg salad, lettuce, tomatoes, onions, etc.).

So. I had my bread, and I had grabbed my meat (ha), and I was going to grab some cheese, waiting in line behind this (kinda cute) girl. She smiled at me before she left with her sammich. I noticed this kid standing sort of awkwardly behind the two of us, not in line, and I was thinking "what the hell is this kid doing?" But I didn't give a fuck (per usual), so I went ahead and started grabbing my cheese. He slides in front of me grabbing some lettuce to put on his burger (like a bitch). I got a slice of provolone and two slices of Swiss (which were all in the same little receptacle), and then went to go grab some American cheese.

Then this motherfucker reached across me, underneath my arms and plate, to try and grab some shit behind me. I stopped dead and looked him dead in the eye. AND HE HAD THE NERVE TO LOOK AT ME AND CONTINUE. I was like "what the fuck dude." And he just sorta looked at me like I was a retard. AS IF THE RETARD WERE ME, NOT HIM!

THAT'S WHY THERE'S A LINE, DICK!

Whew.

Readership, again, I apologize for the spottiness of my shenanigans. I'll try to keep it more regular in the future. It'll be as if the blog started taking Benefiber.

Ha.

Stay classy

Common Sense . . .

2010-03-23T23:00:00.006-04:00

. . . is, clearly, not so common. As is evident by my rants, if it WERE common, I'd be out of a blog.

That is all.

Stay classy

Play-Doh Upsets Me

2010-03-21T19:12:00.007-04:00

Readership, there are many things that upset me in this world, as you very well know. Sometime in the wee hours of this morning, another came to my attention. But I was so exhausted that I knocked out, and I couldn't remember it when I woke up later. I just remembered what it was: Play-Doh.

Now unless you're a Communist, you've played with Play-Doh at least once in your life. It was fun when we were kids. We'd make snakes and little people with faces and shit. And then the geniuses at Hasbro decided "hey... let's make play-sets that allow kids to make FOOD out of Play-Doh!"

I'm gonna pause here and drop a little bit of side knowledge for you, free of charge: kids are retarded. I knew a kid once that ate a Crayola crayon JUST because it was called "Macaroni & Cheese." So yeah. Kids are retarded.

I digress.

So here these (retarded) kids are, making food-shaped shit out of Play-Doh. And it looks real as hell at first glance. Especially the ice cream. They even have a Play-Doh ice cream server, and a little thing that makes sprinkles out of Play-Doh. But then you get THIS bullshit.

"Fun to play with, not to eat!"

The fuck!? So I'm gonna spend all this time making this ice cream out of Play-Doh and making it look all delicious and shit . . . and then take it back apart and put it away? How much fucking sense does that make?

All together now . . . "bottled water."

Some ol' bullshit.

Stay classy

Uh. BACK THE FUCK UP!

2010-03-20T18:40:00.004-04:00

Readership, lately I've been going to the gym semi-regularly (I try to go at least once a week, ideally twice; I don't live on campus and I'm often too lazy to walk my ass out there). As anybody who has gone to a gym and/or has seen any fictional representation of a gym (on television, in a movie, etc.) knows, the average gym has a lot of exercise equipment in it. Also, if you have any common sense, you know that these machines, if used incorrectly, can cause a lot of physical harm, and in some extreme cases, death. You don't want to be in someone's space while they're using these machines, because it could end up hurting you or the person that's using it, or both.

So why do people think it's cool to walk within like five inches of me while I'm doing some exercise thing that clearly requires you to STAY THE FUCK BACK? And the worst part is, when I have to stop abruptly mid-rep (which is definitely not good for my muscles and bones and tendons and shit), because some DIPSHIT decided they couldn't wait TWO SECONDS for me to finish the rep before they tried to pass, they look at me like I'M the asshole.

Excuse me for making sure that I didn't fucking CRUSH you with 80 pounds of machine - at risk of physical harm to myself - because you decided you couldn't POSSIBLY wait one more second, and that you absolutely HAD to run by me at that EXACT moment, mid-rep. Because CLEARLY, that makes ME an asshole.

Fucker.

Stay classy

Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit? Volume 7

2010-03-15T02:13:00.007-04:00

Readership, I'm back. Yes, back. Again. With yet ANOTHER installment of the only regular "columns." I have to ask, Readership: Why do you say such stupid shit? Volume 7.

First off, from my homeslice Sam aka Sam-E: "What's good?"

There are a lot of things that are good. Sex is good. Beer is good. Food is good. Music is good. Sleep is good.

However, if someone were to come to you and say "Hey bro what's good?" and you were to respond with "sex," while you'd be 100% correct, they wouldn't be too happy with you. But fuck it, do it anyway. And let me know how they react.

Secondly, courtesy of Waldy aka Sh80 (he didn't like Waffles so we switched it up), we have "dead ass."

What THE fuck. "Dead ass?" How do you figure that is an affirmative statement? A dead ass is nothing that I'd want around me. Makes no got-damn sense.

Lastly, "who's laughing now?" Scenario:
Super evil guy has a plot to take over the world. His plot involves shooting dark matter into the atmosphere. Super good guy snags him just before he fires the dark matter cannon, in a harrowing move that leaves four dead and countless wounded in a collapsed building. Lots of sadness, even though it was resolved relatively positively. Fast forward a week, and now super good guy has been captured by super evil guy, who has him dangling from some evil sort of super death trap involving a vat of molten gold. Super evil guy says something along the lines of "Well, Mr. Super Good Guy, who's laughing NOWWWW!?"

Uh . . . who the fuck was laughing BEFORE? Did you not see the massive crater that used to be a building where all those people died?

Not funny, dick.

Stay classy

Mixed Signals Can Eat a Dick

2010-03-13T20:05:00.004-05:00

Readership, I was having a conversation via Facebook Chat with my homeslice Sam aka Sam-E, and we readily came to an agreement: mixed signals can eat a dick. Let's get into a scenario here.

Guy invites girl out for dinner and a movie. Everything goes really well - nice restaurant, pleasant conversation, lots of laughs, the movie is enjoyable - all in all, a perfect night for two. Guy brings girl home, maybe a peck on the cheek at the door, then they part ways. Girl updates her Facebook status, something to the tune of "had a great time tonight :)", which Guy likes as soon as he gets home and checks his Facebook. Next morning, Guy texts Girl "good morning :)" or something cute.

Fast forward a week.

Guy isn't responding to texts. Guy isn't sending texts. No communication from Guy whatsoever.

Well, now, ain't this some ol' bullshit. Not picking on guys, because girls are often guilty of this as well (and I've been on the "wtf" end of this situation a couple of times, myself), but still. What the fuck.

Now, sometimes it's an honest mistake. Some people are just really ignorant to the signs and signals that they're sending out to people, and are genuinely surprised when someone who they see as a really close friend of the opposite sex is suddenly nose to nose, alternating between the "kiss me" eyes and staring at your lips. I've been on both sides of that situation (both the ignorant mixed-signals-sender and the kiss-wanting-friend) a few times, and to be honest, I didn't even know what was going on in either case until it was far too late and awkward. Thankfully I've been able to re-establish relations with the females in question (for the most part).

I digress.

Next, there are those malicious bastards that see what they're doing, and continue to do it, knowing full well that they're leading someone else on. Then, when they realize that this poor bastard is far too deeply infatuated to play the whole thing off as a joke, they split, hence the "good morning text to zero communication" maneuver. Not gonna lie, I sorta did that once, but once I realized what was going on, I pulled back into distant friend mode and everything's been working out pretty well since.

But yeah. Mixed signals can eat a massive dick. Especially if they're intentionally mixed. Like a dirty vodka martini of deception. Shaken, not stirred. Like your emotions.

I'm gonna stop now.

Also, I dunno if you know this, but this was my 180th post on this blog. Not quite a legit milestone, but definitely something I'm proud of. Thanks to all three or four of you who have been here since day one, and thanks to everybody that's jumped on since. It's good to know there are people who think what I'm saying is worth listening to.

And not that I have to tell you after 180 posts, but I'll do it anyway.

Stay classy

Baby Geniuses? Chill

2010-03-09T01:07:00.002-05:00

Readership, at the moment I am exhausted. However, I just saw a very troubling commercial, and since lately a) I've been thinking up ideas for Observations and then falling asleep and forgetting in the morning; and b) it's almost mid-March and I haven't made an Observation yet, I think I need to drop this Observation before I collapse and forget it when I wake up.

Whew.

I'm sure that you've all seen those commercials for that weird program that teaches two-month-olds to read. It's actually quite remarkable, and it works. There are all these toddlers that demonstrate either the ability to read, or if they can't speak yet, the ability to comprehend what they're reading (for example, pulling up their shirt and poking their bellybutton when "bellybutton" is presented on a flashcard).

I think it's a fucking abomination. Don't get me wrong, it's amazing and it definitely gives the children an AMAZING and priceless academic advantage.

But at what cost? Yeah, your kid is going to be a genius. But that means they're going to be skipping grades and shit. I'm all for kids getting ahead, but if they're gonna be graduating high school at like 12 with a bunch of older kids that are much more advanced socially and biologically, it's going to be incredibly awkward for your kid. If I had to choose between a socially well-adjusted above average kid and a socially awkward genius, I'd definitely choose the former.

So yeah. Welcome to March, I'm going to bed.

Stay classy

Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit? Volume 6

2010-02-22T17:06:00.005-05:00

Readership, you already know what happened. Once again, I've stumbled on some key phrases that have pissed me RIGHT the hell off. Let's cut to the chase.

There are many variations for the phrase you're supposed to employ after someone thanks you for something. There's always the classic "you're welcome," and then a myriad of other choices, such as "no problem," and "it was my pleasure." But then you have "don't mention it." There's just something about "don't mention it" that pisses me off. I think it's the fact that it's used SO DAMN MUCH, when, as I see it, there are really only a few certain situations where it would be applicable.

People will say "don't mention it" when you thank them for stupid shit, like "hey man, thanks for telling me there was a test tomorrow, I'll be able to study tonight," or "thanks for bringing my mail in with yours." Why the hell wouldn't you want someone to mention the fact that you did that? Are you some sort of Mad Max superbadass who couldn't bear to have the public know that you did one decent thing in your life?

I mean, the way I see it, the only types of shit that should be met with "don't mention it" is some shit that REALLY SHOULDN'T BE MENTIONED. If someone says to you, "hey, thanks for killing my husband, now we can elope in Aruba," or "thanks for paying off that Customs Agent so we could move our cocaine into the country safely," THEN you can say "don't mention it." Otherwise, chill the fuck out with that.

Secondly, the classic phrase "long story short." When the HELL has the story to follow that phrase been short? And the fucked up part is that usually, after you've sat and listened to this EPIC FUCKING POEM of a story for the last hour and a half, you come to the realization that it actually COULD'VE been told in a much shorter version - so the asshole might as well have started the whole conversation with "short story long."

Lastly, this is one that kills me. Let me set up the scenario.

You're asleep. You're dreaming about something pleasant, but then your dream is interrupted by a sort of buzzing noise. It's rhythmic and in perfect cadence. Finally, you wake up, still groggy and for a second you have no fucking clue who you are or what planet you're on, but the buzzing is louder than ever. You see something buzzing and skidding around on your desk with a bright light on it, and instinctively grab it before realizing it's your phone, ringing. You put it up to your ear and the conversation goes a little something like this:

You- "....hello..ughhh..."
Person- "Hey.... uh, were you sleeping?"
You- "...yeah.."
Person- "Ohhh I'm sorry! I'll call you back."

"NO FUCKER YOU WOKE ME UP YOU BETTER MAKE THIS SHIT INTERESTING!"
That's what you think, but you're too nice to say that, so instead you say:

You- "...nah, it's okay, it's cool... what's up?"
Person- "No, no, it's nothing, I'll call you later, it's not important."

WHAT THE FUCK YOU WOKE ME UP FOR SOME UNIMPORTANT SHIT?
At this point, you've got my permission to say that.

God I love people.

Stay classy

Formspring

2010-02-20T11:40:00.002-05:00

Readership, there has been a recent new fad sweeping across the Internet, one that I'll admit intrigued me enough to hop on. It's called Formspring and the way it works is quite simple: you sign up for an account, and allow people to ask you questions either anonymously or by leaving their user info (assuming they also have an account).

If you'll recall, Readership, I opened up my own Formspring account to you a week ago. I've answered something to the tune of 234 questions as of my writing this. Most of them have been hilarious, some of them have been stupid or pointless, a few of them have been antagonistic, and one of them was even a blowjob offer! As such, I enjoy and condone Formspring whole heartedly.

That said, there are a few questions that I've received and that my friends have received that have bothered me, both because of the actual content of the questions and how they were asked.

I've received very racist questions, about my (actual) Puerto Rican heritage and my (non-existent) African American heritage. They started out as just stupid bullshit, such as "Did you know that Puerto Ricans statistically have smaller penises and brains?" To which I replied "Tell that to my girlfriend (and my SAT score)." I usually try to diffuse this sort of shit with humor, and it seems to work for the most part, as I know, again, for the most part, these people are actual friends of mine just being assholes (same as I'd do to them).

But then the line was crossed: "Do you want a juice box you filthy nigger??????" To which I replied, "Whoaaa. If you're offering a juice box, I'll accept, but if you're gonna be a racist prick about it, you can keep it. As an aside, if you were to call me a filthy nigger to my face, you'd find yourself barely conscious in a hospital bed eating breakfast through a straw. If you were lucky." These kind of questions piss me off, and while I still hit first with humor, it's humor tattooed onto a baseball bat.

The thing that bothers me the most about these questions is that they're anonymous. People are so bold when they're hiding behind the infinite anonymity of the Internet, and it's pathetic. While services like Formspring are fun 99% of the time, it's racist fucks like these people that think just because shit is anonymous that it's cool to say whatever the fuck they want.

To all you dickless fucks who think you're hot shit, how about this: say whatever racist shit you want to me, but leave your name so we can settle shit. Otherwise, shut the fuck up.

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

CD Compilations

2010-02-17T10:28:00.004-05:00

Readership, there are many, many things in this wide, wide world that make absolutely NO sense. From bottled water to white people on Fringe, there are many things that are just ridiculous. Recently, however, something else has smacked me in the face with the illogical and pointless nature of its existence.

If you keep the TV on long enough, you're bound to see a commercial for a CD compilation. Some examples include "Buzz Balads," "the Edge," and "Now That's What I Call Music Volume 1232139873242398472" (or whatever number they're up to now), but I'm sure you could find more if you took the time to search.

The deal with these TV CD compilations goes a little something like this: first you have a Star Wars-esque rising text with every song that's on the compilation and who it's by, with the songs in yellow text being played - video included - on the commercial, while some guy tells you how fuckin' awesome this compilation is. Then you see that it's $19.95 plus shipping and handling.

A retard would jump on that shit super quick - $22 or so for a bunch of songs from albums that are out of print and/or would cost like $20 each anyway is a steal, right?

Wrong.

First off, if you're an old guy (the target demographic for the rock CD compilations, I think), you probably have all the albums that these songs are yoinked from. There's this wonderful thing called the CD burner, which works by putting songs on your computer, and then burning them onto a CD, to make a custom compilation. In fact, that's actually what the assholes selling the CD compilations on TV are doing, believe it or not.

And if you don't have the albums, there's this other wonderful thing called Limewire that will get them for you.

Dumbass.

Stay classy

Men

2010-02-14T15:00:00.004-05:00

Readership, I recently saw something that upset me greatly. I'll reproduce it for you below.

"Male: the cause of global warming and everything else bad that happens on earth; A walking idiot with a penis - true. but that is only the begining of their definition. assholes. God had to be a man because only a man would create more retards of the same kind. If God was a woman, we wouldn't have men walking this Earth. i stopped believing that there are decent guys out there just because there isnt. read my definition. men are the cause for global warming. you ask why? that makes no sense. okay look at it this way.what is global warming caused by? garbage. EXACTLY why men cause it. MEN are GARBAGE. end of story."

I'll withold the name, because I'm a nice guy (despite what this person believes about nice guys no longer existing).

As you should know, Waldy and I have predicted the Fall of Man will come upon us by the hand of Vagina. You might see that and think "well shit, looks like this person might have a point, asshole."

And you'd be wrong.

While men might be assholes - while MOST men might be assholes - MOST of them didn't start that way. Men can take a lot of abuse (how do you think we survived the stone age? men had to kill sabretoothed tigers and shit to feed the family), but constant abuse from women (I'm talking emotional . . . for the most part) is what breaks a man. I'm not saying all women are bitches, just like I'm not saying all men are assholes. It's like everything else. There are nice women, and nice men, and there are bitches, and there are assholes.

Not to toot my own horn, but I consider myself a very nice guy. I hold the door open for women (regardless of attractiveness), I don't lie to girlfriends, I don't cheat, and I've never had a girl for a one night stand. What has that gotten me?

My girlfriend junior year of high school told me we were going on a "break" and made it abundantly clear that we were going to get back together at some point in the near future, when knowing full well she had no intentions of doing so. My girlfriend senior year cheated on me repeatedly with a mutual friend and lied to me about it. After visiting my first girlfriend freshman year of college in her home state for New Years at her request (and because I wanted to be with her), we got back and she professed she had feelings for a mutual friend, for whom she left me. The aftermath of that was pretty ugly. After breaking up with my girlfriend sophomore year of college - something I did, mind you, because I saw how unfair it was for her being in a relationship where she wasn't getting nearly as much back as she was putting in - some really terrible shit went down, and my life was literally almost pulled out from under my feet, and there was nothing I could do about it.

Let me stop right here for a moment and say this, and know that I mean it: Every situation I just mentioned has been resolved. I'm cool with every girl I just mentioned, or at least I'd like to think so. I can text/AIM/whatever every one of those girls and it would be okay. Sparks wouldn't fly. I had sushi with the second girl I mentioned before I got back to school, I have a class this semester with the third girl I mentioned (a class which sucks major dick, by the way), and while I'll admit I don't talk to the last girl I mentioned very much, it's not because I don't like her or I think she hates me or anything.

The point is, after ALL THAT, I'm still the same good guy. Much to the surprise of many of my friends, who have seen me unhappy and crushed because of a girl and been upset by it, I'm still the same good guy. I still don't cheat. I still hold doors open for women. I still respect women.

But that's me. And a few other guys. Not everybody can take the shit and walk away with a smile, and THAT'S where the assholes come in. I'm not saying that there aren't some guys who were just BORN assholes, because there are. I'm just saying that not every one of us is an asshole, and that while it's not an excuse for assholery, most of the assholes were made that way by girls. You girls have much more of an effect than you could possibly ever know. That's why, sadly regardless of whatever efforts Waldy and I can muster, you and yours will one day take over the world.

But yeah.

Just had to get that off my chest.

Stay classy

A Quick Announcement

2010-02-13T15:06:00.005-05:00

Readership, I've always considered myself a man of the people, and I
get a happy feeling every time someone that I don't know personally
takes the time to come by, read, and comment on something I've
written. I even like the ones that disagree. Honest.

In the spirit of encouraging more interaction between myself and the
people I'm hopefully entertaining (that'd be you lovely people), I
offer this. Ask me any question you like. You can ask totally anonymously, or leave your name (or some pseudonym that only you and I would understand). I answer every single question I receive, and I answer them all 100% honestly.

Sound like something you'd be down for? Then head on over to
Formspring and ask away.

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

Stupid Commercials!

2010-02-06T02:28:00.003-05:00

Readership, Waldy's Xbox has been bleeding quite profusely from its proverbial vagina these past few days, which has severely limited my ability to play Call of Duty and Grand Theft Auto. Thus, I've been watching much more television than I was at this time last semester - or, indeed, at any other point in my college career.

Of course, with the increase in viewing hours of television, there comes an increase in the amount of commercials I see. And this means, as you well know from such Observations as this, this and this, that I've once again found a couple commercials that put me right on the train to Pissed the Fuck Off-ville.

First off, there's this one.

"Oh . . . not tonight sweetie, you've had Chef every night this week."

What the hell kind of mother serves her kid Chef Boyardee for dinner EVERY NIGHT? I assume that it's at least Wednesday (otherwise the mother would've said something along the lines of "you had Chef last night" if it was only Tuesday), so for at least two days this kid has eaten Chef Boyardee for dinner. I mean, the stuff is good, but it's not "eat it and only it" good.

Secondly, what the fuck is up with the kid? A can of Chef Boyardee - a can, moreover, that you held in your own hands in the store that is AT LEAST five miles away - just happens to roll through your doggie door and into your lap, and you just pick it up and SMILE? If that shit happened to me, I'd be like "WHOA WHAT THE FUCK WHERE DID THIS CAN COME FROM HOW'D IT GET HERE NINJAS COMMUNISTS WHAT'S GOING ON!?" The can is freakin' possessed - that's some shit straight out of a Steven King novel, and thus some shit that I just can't get down with.

Whew.

Secondly, EVERY commercial about saving abused animals and shit.

NOW LISTEN!

I love animals. All jokes aside, as soon as I have my own place, I'm getting a kitten and naming him Nigel. I've grown up around dogs and cats and parrots and shit. I genuinely love animals.

But to be perfectly honest, with the number of people that are homeless in America, or starving, and the children dying from easily-curable diseases and shit abroad - HUMAN BEINGS in need - I could give a fuck about these animals.

It's not because I'm heartless. Every time I see the commercial with the little kitten pawing at the camera with its big eyes I feel a little sad. But then I realize that there are other PEOPLE in far worse situations than the cat, and I get angry. Call me crazy (just don't call me Shirley), but I feel like we should be helping our fellow man before our fellow man's best friend.

Lastly, there's this bullshit. This commercial pisses me off for two reasons. One, the whole "Swine Flu" thing pisses me off, because of the vehement debates on either side of the issue. One side is all "HOLY FUCK WE'RE ALL GONNA DIE FROM SWINE FLU ZOMG WHATEVER WILL WE DO?" and the other side is all "you guys are retarded." And it pisses me off. I mean, the flu is serious. It DOES kill people every year. While the Swine Flu hasn't killed nearly as many people as the "regular flu," it still is killing people, which makes it dangerous. The fact that people are writing it off as a complete joke kinda pisses me off.

And secondly, what the hell fat kid? Could that sneeze have been ANY FAKER? I mean, I know you're in like second grade, but DAMN. Your acting is fucking TERRIBLE. You couldn't have found a kid who WASN'T a retard to do the sneeze? Shit.

Stay classy

Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit? Volume 5

2010-02-03T23:18:00.008-05:00

Jeeze Louise, Readership, it looks like I'm back - yet AGAIN - with yet ANOTHER installment of "Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit?"

I received quite an interesting message today from Hannah aka H-Rose, which brought to my attention a couple new, INCREDIBLY STUPID phrases that people say and think are intelligent. Let's get to it.

First off, we have something that's more of a "stupid shit to say archetype" than an actual "stupid shit to say." Basically, it entails you doing something (usually accidentally), and then someone nearby says something to the effect of "watch out for *whatever accident just happened*." Examples? Oh fo sho.

YOU: "Ouch I just hit my head on this low branch!"
ASSHOLE: "Watch your head."

YOU: "AAARGGHHH I've been shot!"
ASSHOLE: "Yeah, watch out for guys with guns cuz they like to shoot."

YOU: "Awww TITS! I pressed the wrong button and now a nuclear bomb is going to detonate over China, thrusting the world into a global conflict that - if there are any survivors - will be known forever as World War III . . . instead of the button to call my secretary!"
ASSHOLE: "Make sure you press the right buttons, man."

That's when the sticks come out and people's feelings (and faces) get hurt. Cuz seriously? Wow! That would've helped me like TWO SECONDS AGO, BEFORE I HIT MY HEAD / GOT SHOT / STARTED WORLD WAR III!

For all the good you did, you should've just sat down, gotten comfortable, and had a nice, hot cup of SHUT THE FUCK UP.

And then we have the always lovely, "I'm ready when you are." Logically, this phrase makes little sense, and in practice (taken literally), VERY rarely happens as such. When was the last time that, completely by chance, you and a friend that were going somewhere together were ready at exactly the same time? Yeah, I can't remember when that was for me either.

Usually, when you say "I'm ready when you are," what you MEAN is something along the lines of "Hurry up you lazy prick, you're holding me up and I got places to go and shit to do!" Except you don't want to be an asshole about it and call out your buddy. However, if they continue to be a lazy prick and hold you up, you have my express written consent to use that phrase verbatim. Dictated, not read. Signed, Fred the Observer.

Fucking idiots make me sad and happy at the same time. Sad because I'm upset that they're still in the gene pool. Happy because I get to bitch about it here.

Anyway. Thanks again to H-Rose for the topics, and please, whatever you do, Readership . . .

Stay classy

Motivational Posters

2010-01-28T19:42:00.006-05:00

Readership, something has come to my attention recently that has troubled me greatly. Allow me to explain.

I'm sure that all of you have heard of and seen the amazing gift God has given to the world, called "De-Motivational Posters." If not, a couple examples can be found here and here. A Google Image Search of "demotivational posters" would yield countless more beautiful examples.

These "De-Motivational Posters" have enriched the lives of many people since the genius who invented them introduced them to the world. Personally, I've been on the verge of tears, seen a De-Motivational Poster, and my frown was turned instantly upside-down as I laughed uncontrollably. They are hilarious, timeless, and most of all, fuckin' AWESOME.

But! Something eluded my perception. In the very naming of this funnybone-ticklery as a "DE-Motivational Poster," it follows logically that there must be a NON-de-Motivational Poster, or as the more grammatically inclined of us would say, a regular ol' Motivational Poster.

I did a quick Google Search.

And I was appalled.

What the fuck is this bullshit? Or this?

Does anybody honestly ever get motivated by this sorta shit? And then I did a little more digging, and found out that these posters are put up mostly in corporate-style office buildings.

What the fuck!?

I'm going to come to this same BULLSHIT dead-end job five days a week - maybe six! - for every week from now until my 65th birthday, at which point I'll most likely retire and due to the absolute shambles that Social Security is in currently, have to find another job to keep my house and keep food in my belly - BUT THANK GOD that there's that poster on the wall, telling me that persistence will help, and that aspiring to climb as high as I can dream is something I should be doing! Without that, I might just throw my ergonomic chair out my twelfth-story office window and then jump out after it!

Fuck!

This cognitive psych class is definitely not helping my good nature and sunny fucking disposition.

Wooo-sah. Wooo-sah.

Stay classy

Paying to get Laid - Financially Sound?

2010-01-22T19:18:00.006-05:00

Readership, I was talking to the ever-lovely Jordan today, and the subject of getting pussy came up.

Oh yeah.

But yeah. She related to me a highly philosophical debate she'd played party to in her days as a bartender. The debate stemmed from the question of "to pay, or not to pay for pussy." While this question was being debated, it was discovered that even if you don't directly pay for it, if you go through conventional channels (i.e. not rape), you will end up paying for pussy, even if it is highly indirectly. An explanation? Of course.

There are two ways to go about getting laid if you're a guy. One, is to hire a prostitute/go to a brothel/etc. This means you pay directly to get pussy. Is it dirty? Probably. Is it good? Probably not. But it's pussy. So you get laid.

The other way is to be a player about it. This is a blanket term for actually talking to a girl and taking her out to dinner and whatnot, and for going to the club and macking, etc.

If you're a broke ass dude, which is the easier of the two for your small budget? Most would say that it would be cheaper to actually mack and be a gent about it, but I'm going to disagree. Why?

How much money did you spend on the outfit you're wearing? Unless you're buying from the bargain bin, a good outfit with name brands is going to run you about $100-$120, then another $100 or so for some fly kicks. The watch, even if it's fake, will run you from $30-$50, and the chain another $50. That right there is $280 minimum. Add taking her to dinner ($40) and a movie ($30), and you're over $370. And factor in gas, and you're over $400.

Let's pause here. This is one date. In the preparation (clothes and transportation) and the actual date, you're spending over $400. And statistically speaking, you're not even likely to get any pussy from her that night.

Looking in your local newspaper at the escort classifieds, you can get a classy escort to come to your house and smash for around $200, depending on where you are.

In summation. While I don't personally prefer going after escorts to looking for a meaningful relationship (which I have now), speaking strictly financially, it is preferable.

Who'da thunk it.

Stay classy

Barbershops

2010-01-19T16:40:00.010-05:00

Readership, since my hair grows like a vociferous weed on plant-steroids, I've had to have several haircuts while I've been away at college in Queens. I had two last school year, and today, my second of this school year. There were three barbershops around St. John's. There were the Jewish guys, the black guys, and the Dominican guys. The black guys, much to my dismay, closed down at some point last year, second semester. I went to each barbershop once each, with the exception of the Dominican barbershop because of the aforementioned closing.

Anyway.

Each place was an experience, and since classes start tomorrow and I'm trying to be a good boy and get good grades - and thus won't have much free time to blog/bitch during the first week of classes - I thought I'd drop those experiences on ya. Let's do this (LEEEEROYYYYY JENKINSSSS).

The first place I ever went to get my hair cut was the black barbershop. Now, this was my first time ever setting foot inside a black barbershop, but I HAD seen the Ice Cube movie "Barbershop," so I had an idea of what to expect. I opened the door, stepped in, and instantly realized that the movie "Barbershop" was almost a carbon copy of the actual barbershop (minus Cedric the Entertainer) - right down to the one "Eminem" white guy in there cutting hair.

Suddenly, from around my left elbow, came a low, surly voice.

"Yo. You wanna get CUT?"

And I was like "WHOA WHAT THE FUCK NO!" and I sorta freaked out a bit. But he gave me a look that said, quite plainly, "dumbass cracka" and said "Nah b, your HAIR." And I was like "oh fo sho."

About an HOUR AND A HALF LATER, I'm still in the chair. I'm legally blind (duh) so I can't see my reflection too clearly, but from what I can see, he's just about done (cuz I'm lookin' good). Suddenly, he stops with the clipper, spins me around SUPER FAST to face him, and says, "yo . . . you want me to go get muh blade?"

"WHOA WHAT THE FUCK NO!" He shot me the same "dumbass cracka" look, went out to his car, and came back with a butterfly-knife (which worried me even more). He grabbed a spray bottle full of (what I thought was) water, and told me, and I quote, "put your head back." Something told me "CLOSE YO EYES BITCH" and I did, just in time - because it wasn't water.

It was rubbing alcohol.

The Jewish guys were, again, an experience. There were like six of them, but only two of them were cutting hair. The other four were watching the door, like they expected half of Palestine to suddenly flood through the door and try and take over. The two cutting hair were polar opposites. One was old and wise, the other young and trendy. The young guy cut my hair, and kept asking me questions about how I wanted my hair cut, like I was a retard. "Do you want it . . . like mine? Or . . . like his?" And I was sitting there like "are you fuckin' serious bro?"

As an aside, they were the only barbershop I visited with a cash register.

Lastly, and most recently, was the Dominican barbershop. I've been twice, and both times I was highly satisfied with the results. When I went the first time, I got the chill, older guy (out of the three barbers there; the other two were a little older than me and crazy).

I'm gonna pause here for a second to drop a little knowledge. I'm Puerto Rican. Obviously, Dominicans and Puerto Ricans both speak Spanish. Most people will tell you that Puerto Ricans speak quickly, regardless of what language they're speaking, and they'd be right. However, when it comes to speaking Spanish at a rapid pace, there is no race better than the Dominicans.

So, I'm sitting there in the chair, and these guys are rapid-firing Spanish at each other, and from the little bit that I actually catch, I come to understand that they're debating amongst themselves. The topic? My ethnicity. Finally, the chill guy cutting my hair stops and says to me, "What are you man?" So I told him. He smiled and laughed, because he won the argument.

The first thing the crazy younger guy says when I sit in the chair? He starts arguing with the chill guy about my ethnicity again. The chill guy goes "boriquen" which is Spanish slang for "Puerto Rican," and the crazy guy goes "No. Wrong. What are you buddy?" He was pissed when I told him I was Puerto Rican.

So yeah. Three different barbershops. Three very different flavors.

Completely unrelated to the above: I don't wanna go to class tomorrow.

Stay classy

Art

2010-01-16T13:45:00.005-05:00

Readership, there's been something that's been bothering me for quite some. It's a bit . . . semantic. Allow me to explain.

Due to the natural progression of a society, certain words and phrases will go in and out of style, or change meanings. Usually it's a pretty drastic change - for example, in the twenties, a "pussy" was a normal thing to call a cat. Now it's slang for "vagina" or someone who fits the description of "scared to do anything" or a "bitch."

There's one word that has managed to change its definition so drastically that the original definition has been lost to the ages. What word is it?

Art.

Back in the Renaissance, art was a word that was reserved for something visual that stirred the soul - you looked up at the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, or saw the Mona Lisa, or the Statue of David, and you KNEW it was art. There was no doubt in your mind that what you were looking at was something that transcended the very lives of the men who created them, and would be considered almost sacred centuries after their deaths.

Nowadays, art has as much of a set-in-stone, concrete definition as the word "thingamagig," or better yet, "jount." It's ridiculous. There are people who spend LOTS OF MONEY on "paintings" that were made, to be perfectly honest, by someone just throwing paint at a blank canvas until they felt they were done. There are these large, plastic "statues" (for lack of a better word) around Yale and Downtown New Haven that are just abominations. They're shapeless, mindless, and pointless. But it's "art." And I'm sure the guy that the City of New Haven contracted to create these "works of art" made a fucking killing.

Basically, it seems like anything can be art, and since the definition is so subjective, nobody could say that what you said was art, wasn't actually art. Technically, my shoe is art. So is my shower. That broken window? Art. That cardboard box, with one side ripped off? Art. The computer on which I'm typing this Observation? Art. The letter N? Art.

When I get back to St. John's, I think I might just go up to my old art teacher and take a shit right there on the floor in the middle of the classroom.

And call it art.

Stay classy

Jury Duty Can Suck My Civic Balls

2010-01-13T16:32:00.009-05:00

Readership, once you turn 18, your name goes on a couple lists (at least in America). If you don't have a job, it goes on the State Unemployment list. If you have your license, it goes on the State DMV license registry. If you register to vote in your state, it goes on the State Registered Voters list. If you filed taxes in your state last tax season, you go on the Paying Taxes to *whatever state* list.

From these four lists, names are drawn randomly by computer, and if yours comes up, you're in for a treat. A treat dripping in as much sarcasm as the previous sentence.

Yup, you guessed it. Jury duty.

Jury duty, as the video they show you explains, is an honor. It is your civic duty as a proud citizen of your state to be selected to a jury of your fellow state residents so you can uphold another fellow citizen's Sixth Amendment right to a speedy trial by a jury of his or her peers.

Fuck jury duty.

I woke up at around 7 this morning so I could be ready to leave by 7:45. I got to the courthouse at 8, still half-asleep. After going through a metal detector and up an elevator to the top floor, myself and about fifty other people were confined to what looked like a fucked up lecture hall with chairs in rows that didn't separate. There was a 32-inch television on one of those elementary-school-esque carts against the back wall, next to the podium, and it was perpetually tuned to CNN.

We're going to stop here for a moment. There was recently a REALLY bad earthquake in Haiti. Like REALLY REALLY bad. There have been a lot of deaths, and there are thousands of people still unaccounted for, even now at the moment that I'm typing this. CNN was reporting on the earthquake all day. So as if it wasn't bad enough that I was stuck in this fucking room with a bunch of strangers (and not a few creepy old guys), I was smacked in the face with a tragedy that genuinely saddened me, because my roommate and good friend Waldy has family down there, that when I last asked him, hadn't been accounted for.

To top it all off, some dickhead with a SmartBoard came on the screen, and used it to tell the viewers that 47% of Haiti's citizens lived in Port-au-Prince (which was the earthquake's epicenter), and also that Haiti had a 53% literacy rate.

Why the fuck was that important? I wondered, did he perhaps think that the earthquake had given the Haitian people an ultimatum before it struck - "READ ROMEO AND JULIET OR I'LL CRUSH YOU!" - and thus this statistic was relevant? Somehow I think not.

I digress.

All of this depressing and makin'-me-mad shit ceased for about five minutes, when this late-fifties Hispanic guy got on the podium. He had a sexy Telemundo voice, but spoke English (obviously), and spoke like a pilot. Everything was enunciated and pronounced super clearly and the cadence was fake as hell and I wanted to shoot him. I couldn't even pay attention to what he was saying because his voice pissed me off so damn much.

When he stopped, we got a "coffee break." The coffee was completely gone after everybody had some. And it wasn't even good coffee.

After the "coffee break," at around 10, they sat us back in the auditorium/lecture hall/torture chamber.

And we sat.

And we sat.

And I listened to Aesop Rock.

And we sat.

And this creepy lady dressed all in black who seemed to have went to Goku's stylist to get her hair done stood up against a pillar twenty feet behind me and stared at me for an hour or so.

And we sat.

Finally, at around noon, an announcement came over hidden speakers saying that we were free to go.

I SPENT FOUR FUCKING HOURS OF MY MORNING SITTING WATCHING DEPRESSING CNN AND DRINKING BAD COFFEE WHILE BEING STARED AT BY CREEPY MEN AND WOMEN.

And I got paid something to the tune of 10 bucks.

Fuck jury duty.

Stay classy

Cows

2010-01-12T22:02:00.003-05:00

Readership, I was having a deeply philosophical discussion with Mistah Welch tonight, and he brought up a very interesting point. How did the milking of cows come about?

Yeah. I said "hmmm" too.

The way I see it, there are three possible ways that milking a cow was "discovered." I'll outline them for you in order from least probable to most probable, below.

First off, we have what I'm going to call the "Genius Theory." In the Genius Theory, some know-it-all young dick (picture Einstein in his twenties with short hair) decided that since his momma's boobies gave him milk, that every animal's momma's boobies had to do the same thing. Actually, since according to this site, cows were first domesticated between eight and ten thousand years ago in the Near East (which is just fancy archaeologist-speak for what us normal bastards call the Middle East, minus a few countries), he probably had filthy long hair.

I digress.

This know-it-all young dick probably tried a few animals out first, but was frustrated by their distinct lack of boobies.

And then he saw the cow. Its udder was in plain sight. No need to search for boobies or nips. There it was.

And the rest, as they say, is history. Ancient history, actually.

The second theory, which I'll call the "Clean Accident Theory," follows a similar tact as the previous theory, except there was no intelligence involved. A regular ol' guy, same as you and me (except somewhere in 6000 BC Iraq), tripped over a rock towards a cow, and, flailing his hands out to try and grab something that would save him from his terrible tumble, his fingers fastened securely around the plump, full udders of a cow, squirting the delicious "Moo Juice" (as my father calls it) onto the ground.

He was then most likely kicked in the head by said cow, permanently fucking his brain up. It would be several years before anybody put two and two together and discovered that it had been the sudden and surprise milking that had pissed the cow off enough to strike back.

As an aside, this was also the first documented case of the whole "No means no" thing.

Lastly, and I believe, most likely, is what I'll call the "Dirty Accident Theory." In this theory, there was some sick-in-the-head, perverted Ancient Iraqi, who saw those plump udders and couldn't help himself. He had to have them. And he did.

Over. And over.

Stay classy

Married Chicks

2010-01-06T00:50:00.011-05:00

Readership, married chicks at bars piss me off. Why, you ask? Lemme lay it out flat for you.

First off, every single chick at a bar that's a "chick at a bar" (as opposed to someone sitting at a bar who just happens to have a vagina - and there IS a difference) is dressed sexy. That's the bottom line. They are dressed to sexify your night. Short skirts, belly shirts and plunging necklines - and then the hair and perfume, and whew. There goes your mind.

So, naturally, being a man, you approach these ladies and drop your best lines, and then you get THIS bullshit:

"Uh . . . I'm married."

Uh . . . the fuck? You say you're married? So, uh . . . where the hell's your husband? Does he know you're dressed like a hooker trolling bars every night?

Or is this whole thing bullshit? Did you just hit up a toy store and toss a quarter into a machine, crank the crank and get a fake ass ring to wear, so you can be dressed like a filthy whore and then lure unsuspecting saps into your web of lies, only to be a snarky bitch and shoot them down to make yourself feel better?

Readership, YOU be the judge.

And please, whatever you do.

Stay classy

What the Hell, Pokemon

2010-01-01T12:18:00.009-05:00

Readership, I'm going to open up the new decade with a Pokemon Observation. Let's hope that this doesn't come back and bite me in the ass. If this year is a bad year, I'm gonna blame this post.

Anyway.

Pokemon, as any idiot knows, originated in Japan. I'm gonna climb out on a limb of the Asshole Tree and say that Japanese people are immediately identifiable because of their squinted eyes (among other things). However, in the Pokemon animated series, there was only one person who had squinted eyes (well, technically like seven, but they're all related and only one of them is around for more than one episode). His name is Brock Harrison.

And he's black.

What the fuck. The ONLY character with "Asian" features in this show is a BLACK GUY?

Insert "blackanese" joke here.

Welcome to 2010, folks.

Stay classy

2009

2009-12-31T23:59:00.006-05:00

. . . was a helluva year. God Almighty, what a year. A year of opposites, to be sure. Examples? Oh I got plenty.

There was quite a lot of fun. There was quite a lot of terror. QUITE a lot.

I laughed like a madman. I cried like a bitch.

I got to do things that I'd always wanted to do. I had to do things that I'd never wanted to do. Really.

I lost family - and through the loss, gained more family than I even know what to do with (in a good way!).

I got closer to some peeps. I fell out of touch with some peeps.

There were points where I liked the person I was. There were points where I didn't.

But at the end of the day (or year), I'm still standing. I've got my health, my sense of humor, my lovely lady, my homeboys, and (what's left of) my sanity.

One of the things I'm most excited about? I'm going to get published in a major anthology that is slated to be distributed widely in Barnes and Noble and Borders. I'm going to make a name for myself in a field dominated by fifty-plus-year-olds who've been at it since before I was even a glimmer in my mother's eye, and be successful. That sounds like a win to me.

So, in retrospect, as many have been saying, fuck 2009, but do it gently. While 2009 was a screaming terror ride through most of it, it taught me a LOT.

Seems like college is actually teaching me shit about life. Who'da thunk it.

Here I come 2010. Let's do it big.

Stay classy

Get off the Phone, Bad Guys!

2009-12-31T14:37:00.006-05:00

Readership, I've noticed something through my scrupulous watching of movies over this winter break (when I should have been working kgb_ shifts, reading, or writing): whenever the movie is about some kind of organized crime bad guy that organizations like the FBI and people affiliated with such organizations want to capture or kill, there's usually a process to the whole thing. First off, we get the guy/gal's name, then someone (usually the superior) gives the FBI agent or FBI-affiliated a large-ish manila folder with a dossier and a bunch of pictures of this bad guy, and, inevitably, in every single picture, this evildoer is ALWAYS ON THE PHONE.

Really, bad guy?

Let's look at this logically - when do you want to be the MOST incognito? When you're talking to your evildoer cohorts, that's when! How is it that they don't catch you doing regular people shit, like jogging, or coaching your kid's soccer team, or running to the store for a gallon of milk, but they're able to catch you - without fail - planning your next diabolical scheme over the telephone?

Here's a free tip for you dumbasses: whatever it is you're doing when you're NOT on the phone, do that when you ARE on the phone. Because it almost seems like you're freakin' INVISIBLE to the people that would gain intel on you to try and stop you, UNTIL you put that phone up to your ear.

Shit. And then you wonder how they catch you in the end.

If you're a criminal mastermind trying to do some epic criminal shit with your evil underground criminal organization, STAY OFF THE PHONE IN PUBLIC.

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

Hey Assholes!

2009-12-25T00:00:00.006-05:00

Merry Christmas, from all of us at Legally Blind Observations.

In case you don't know, that's just me. Cletus died of beard cancer. We'll do a Dan Fogelberg and drink a toast to the old guy's innocence/soul/memory.

But yeah. Get drunk, be merry, get laid, but above all, be safe.

Stay classy

-Fred the Observer

Why Do You Say Such Stupid Shit? Volume 4

2009-12-23T23:25:00.000-05:00

Once again, readership, I've come back with yet another installment of what seems to be the only thing that regularly pisses me right the hell off, that being how people tend to say the stupidest shit and make me sad on the inside.

As an aside, I might actually make this a "Feature" if I can get enough stupid shit that people say. Shouldn't be too hard.

Anyway.

The first one comes from a question someone (most likely a Communist) asked of Rebecca aka R n' R: "Did you know that Thanksgiving was on a Thursday this year?"

NO WAY SERIOUSLY? If you hadn't told me, I would've celebrated it on Wednesday, like I did last year. Oh no, wait a second . . . I'm pretty sure I celebrated it on Thursday last year . . . and the year before . . . and the year before that.

ARE YOU SENSING A TREND HERE, DUMBASS? It's ALWAYS on a Thursday. If you'd eat turkey instead of STUPID, maybe you'd be a little better off, asshole.

Another favorite: "What have I done!?" Usually it's drawn out, and sounds really REALLY confused, so it's more like "WHAT have I doooooooone!?"

Hey asshole - WHAT DID YOU JUST DO? Assuming you don't have extreme-short-term-memory amnesia (or whatever the technical term for that shit is), then you SHOULD remember what you just did, and thus SHOULDN'T have to ask, ESPECIALLY not in an "I'm not asking anyone in particular" rhetorical manner.

And the best one, by far - usually uttered by parental units when they're trying to make a point. Ironically enough, however, instead of making a point, they make me MAD.

But I digress.

You as a five-year-old: "But Jimmy told me to do it!"
Parents: "So if Jimmy told you to jump off a building, you'd just do it without a second thought too?"

NO, DUMBASS.

I might be young, Mommy, but I wasn't born yesterday. There is a HUGE difference between what Jimmy told me to do and PLUMMETING TO MY FIVE-YEAR-OLD DOOM OFF A BUILDING. And to be quite frank, Mommy, if you can't grasp the distinction between childhood shenanigans and five-year-old DOOM OFF A BUILDING, then perhaps you should put me up for adoption. Because raising retards is hard, but being raised BY a retard . . . is retarded.

Stop saying such stupid shit!

Actually wait. I find myself at an interesting internal struggle here. If people were to stop saying such stupid shit, while it would make my life a lot less stressful, it would also deprive me of something to bitch about here, and writing these Observations DOES make me happy.

Hmm. Carry on, idiots. Give me something to write about.

And whatever you do, for God's sake.

Stay classy

Heat Surge

2009-12-19T11:43:00.004-05:00

Readership, I know I've been a little on the low side with the Observations lately. There is a reason - I went through a few of my more recent ones, and realized that there wasn't too much quality in them. I'll say it plainly: after Blame Elevators for Obesity, the next "good" Observation (in my mind) was Pigeons. This saddens me, so now I'm going to opt for a more "quality over quantity" approach. This means that you might have to wait a little longer for Observations, but each one will be a winner.

Like this one.

There's this new product out there called the Heat Surge. It's made by Amish craftsmen, costs around $300, and as you can see, it's basically a portable space heater made up to look like a fireplace, complete with fake coals and a fake roaring fire behind them up against a screen. The cool thing about it is that the "fire" emits heat, but as it's not actually real fire, it doesn't burn when touched. How does it work? From the website's Frequently Asked Questions:

"Virtually silent fan forced technology, 24 blade Air-O dynamic fan draws cool air through the back into the wind tunnel heat chamber, and disperses out into your home the bone soothing heat."

Have you spotted the one little snag here yet? Read it again. Go on, I'll wait.

Still no?

Okay, I'll tell you.

When in the hell have Amish people EVER used "virtually silent fan forced TECHNOLOGY," or ANY TECHNOLOGY AT ALL!? They almost have to go to confession for wearing a damn wristwatch, for God's sake, but a fucking silent forced fan that draws cool air back into a wind tunnel heat chamber and disperses it out into your home, and has a nifty little fake fire and coals to put the image of a cozy fireplace in mind? I mean, shit, might as well just start shopping online and watching TV too, cuz you're Amish-cred is shot to shit after that.

For $300 (more, after shipping), I'll buy a sweater and an Xbox 360 and be warm and entertained.

Sheesh.

Stay classy

Blame Elevators for Obesity

2009-12-11T00:22:00.008-05:00

Unintentionally, it seems that I've done back-to-back "Blame X for Y" posts. While this is a complete coincidence, readership, the issue that I'm bringing up in this Observation is quite a serious one.

The following is a true story.

It will sound mean. It is mean.

It will sound exaggerated. It is the truth.

Today, I was going to see my girlfriend Jordan on the fourth floor. I live on the ground floor, which, due to some retard's design decision, is called the "basement." So technically, she lives on the fifth floor, but whatever.

Anyway, I got into the elevator, pressed the button for the fourth (aka fifth) floor, and stood back. As the door began to slide shut, a strange sound reached my ears. It was almost as if a mute elephant had been airlifted to the top of one of those amazingly high and steep staircases that the Mayans seemed to love to put on the sides of their temples, and then dropped down the entire staircase. Except with like fourteen elephants that were three times as large as they would usually be in the wild.

At this point, I'm like "WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT!?" The ground's shaking, and whatever the hell is making this noise is getting closer - and fast. I start to mash the "door close" button, hoping beyond hope that whatever fucking super-tiger-dinosaur creature that's coming towards me gets assed out of eating me because the elevator door closes on it.

No such luck, however. A large, morbidly obese arm - notice how I said ARM, not PERSON - hooked itself around the door and basically forced it back open again. And what followed was the biggest, morbidestly obesest person I'd ever seen, huffing and puffing like the Big Bad Wolf after an asthma attack. It (because I honestly couldn't tell if this was a dude or a chick) stepped into the elevator with me - and the elevator dropped an inch or two - and I stepped back as far as I could, giving this creature room.

The chubbiest of fingers reached out towards the row of buttons, and pressed . . .

1.

WHAT THE FUCK!?

What you're saying is, you could run at nearly SIXTY MILES PER HOUR so you could finja your way into the elevator and fucking SMOOSH me into the CORNER, but you couldn't climb TWO FLIGHTS OF STAIRS!? And then have the nerve to be like "hurry up . . fucking elevator . . . " under your breath!?

GET SOME EXERCISE ASSHOLE.

And for God's sake, whatever you do.

Stay classy

Blame Darwin for Porn

2009-12-03T17:58:00.009-05:00

And anything else people do that you don't like. But I'm gonna stick with porn for this Observation.

Anyway.

Humans are obviously very special, unique members of the animal kingdom, for many reasons. Our opposable thumbs, for example, make us very different from many animals, except for our monkey ancestors.

But there's something else, something so rare in the animal kingdom that we only share it with one other animal (the dolphin). What is it?

We get pleasure from sex.

Now you all see the porn connection. But what about Darwin? Glad you asked.

Darwin's theory of natural selection basically states that traits that will help an organism survive and reproduce - or are basically "desirable" - are passed on to the next generation, and those which will not, or aren't desirable, die with the last carriers of them. For example, most animals that exist today have the right side of their bodies controlled by the left side of their brains, and vice-versa. Why, you ask? Imagine being attacked from the right side, and someone smashing the right side of your head. Now, if the right side of your body was controlled by the right side of your brain, the right side of your body would be pretty nonfunctional right now - not good for you in this situation, because your right side is the side closest to your attacker. However, seeing as in actuality the right side of your body is controlled by the left side of your brain, if you were to be smashed in the right side of the head, you'd still be able to raise your right arm and defend yourself. A desirable trait? Fo sho.

But back to porn.

Since humans are one of the two known species that gain pleasure from sex, with regards to Darwin's theory of Natural Selection, there had to be a reason why this trait - gaining pleasure from sex - had to be more desirable than the alternative. The reason why? Years in the future, a business called "the porn industry" would make untold millions - even perhaps billions! - of dollars, exploiting the fact that human beings get pleasure from sex (even if it's with Jackie or Palmela instead of with a significant other).

So yeah. Hate porn? Blame Darwin.

But whatever you do

Stay classy

The Wives of Ninjas

2009-12-01T15:59:00.005-05:00

Readership, half-asleep in a stupor borne of having to write a 5-page history paper that I didn't know about until yesterday, due today (which I finished), I had a revelation. Ninjas, while awesome, would have made absolutely terrible husbands. Stick with me here.

I'd have to think that a ninja wouldn't tell his wife that he was a ninja at first, which I imagine would lead to some shit.

"Where were you last night, Isao? And what is this stain on your collar? Hmm!?"
"Uhhh. . ."
"Ohhhhh I knew it, you're cheating!"
"Okay, listen. I assassinated a visiting dignitary last night. The stain on my collar is the blood of a traitor."

Yeah that shit wouldn't go over too well.

And also, in Feudal Japan, the wife was basically the servant to the husband. She cooked, cleaned, washed clothes, planted crops, etc. etc.

Ninjas had to have OD high metabolisms (because of all the running, climbing, and fighting they did), so they would always be eating, meaning his wife would be always at the stove cooking some grub up for him to assassinate- er, eat.

Also, ninjas stay slayin' muthafuckas, so there would be a lot of blood splatters on their clothes and whatnot. I dunno about you, but every time I've tried getting blood out of fabric, it's been pretty difficult, especially if it's set in - and you know ninjas did NOT have that Tide To-Go Pen shit handy after they sliced some dishonorable bitch open and got all his blood on his jacket, so that shit's set in by the time he gets home.

From what I understand of women, "I'm gonna sneak around all the time, murdering people and getting my clothes all bloodied and maybe ripped, but you better wash and mend my clothes and make me dinner cuz I'm HUNGRY!" don't fly. I guess for ninjas back in the day, it was less about finding a wife and more about finding a hooker.

Stay classy

Rosetta Stone

2009-11-27T14:39:00.005-05:00

Readership, I've seen a bunch of commercials that piss me off. There's this, this, this, and then there's always the classic this. Rosetta Stone has a commercial that doesn't piss me off, per se, but it makes me wonder a little.

You've probably seen it - it's really the only one that they have, to tell you the truth. In the middle of the commercial, the "narrator" says that Rosetta Stone is so amazing that it's used by different branches of the U.S. Government. She mentions the State Department, the CIA, and NASA.

What the fuck? Why do you need to learn a foreign language to go to space? All the dudes in the ISS know English, so not for that. And unless Rosetta stone has created a freakin' Martian disc, then that shit is useless for a NASA astronaut.

Stupid NASA.

Stay classy

Pigeons

2009-11-20T22:34:00.006-05:00

Readership, having been born in suburban Connecticut and lived there for 18 or so years before going to college in New York City, there are countless very dramatic differences between the two - as well as a bunch of subtle ones. One such subtle difference is the behavior of the pigeons in New York City as opposed to the ones in Connecticut.

In Connecticut, the pigeons are pussies. Plain and simple. Basically, you look at one the wrong way and it flies south, regardless of what season it is. If you make a gunshot noise, they scatter like the Whos when the Grinch rolls through. It's actually quite pathetic.

In New York City, however - whoa. These pigeons are hard-fucking-core, man. I walked right up to one last year and gave it the evil eye, and it stared ME down. From around the same height as my ankles, it stared me DOWN. I had to back down and give the little thug some space. I've rolled like four deep, with it being me and three pigeons. They're gangsta as hell. And make a gunshot noise at them? I tried that shit once, and the little fucker pulled out a Glock 9 and ran me for my fitted, then flew away. I was like "what the fuck?"

All that said, squirrels in New York City are just as bitchmade as they are in Connecticut.

Stay classy

You Have GOT to be Shittin' Me (Literally)

2009-11-17T17:43:00.004-05:00

Readership, as I was settling in to take a nap today before class, a commercial came on. I've come to the conclusion that 99% of commercials are ridiculous, so I guess I shouldn't have been too surprised, but this one pissed me right the hell off.

It's for this stupidass thing, pictured above. Know what it does?

IT SHITS.

The fuck!?

The DAY that I'm cleaning up a DOLL'S shit, is the day that I roll in said dollshit, then roll in some breadcrumbs and bake until lightly browned.

Ridiculous!

Stay classy

Don't You Have a Dayjob?

2009-11-17T11:16:00.004-05:00

Readership, as a college student, I see a lot of weird shit on a regular basis. From transvestites to midgets, and from blonde Asians to (what I'm pretty sure are) crackheads, I've seen it all over this past year and a half. But this semester, I've seen something that both puzzles me and pisses me off.

Watch any movie about college and there's a good chance that you'll see the "40+ single mom that's taking night classes to get her degree" character, and those definitely exist. I have one such woman in my Emergence of Global Society class at 6pm (tonight, actually), who is not only out of her fucking mind, but has also hit on me repeatedly (in English AND Spanish).

This doesn't bother me ("this" being the presence of 40+ single moms in night classes at colleges across the country. every time she hits on me I get hella uncomfortable, cuz she's old and ugly). Having a mother who goes to night school in order to get her Masters for Education, I can understand both the need for the class and the need for the timing (aka at night). My mom is far too busy during the day with teaching and being a mom to be taking classes, and thus she's usually up until untold hours of the morning doing homework and the like.

What DOES bother me, however, is the class I'm in right now, which has not one, but TWO OLD DUDES. One of them looks like he's at least 28, and the other at least 35. The fucked up part? THEY BOTH DRESS LIKE THEY'RE MY AGE. The younger one has the single diamond stud, the big "I'm a thug" watch, the spiked hair and the fly kicks. The older one rocks Ed Hardy like it's his fucking job, with the small-brimmed baseball-esque caps that all you white people love to wear - and WRINKLES FIT FOR A 50-YEAR-OLD WOMAN on his face. And even more fucked up? They're CONSTANTLY trying to mack on this one girl who (I'm pretty sure) is a freshman. So we have a 30+ year old guy going after some 18 year old chick (who is admittedly attractive, but that's not the point). What the fuck.

Why are these guys here? Why don't they have jobs - no, fuck a job, at 35 you need to have a CAREER. Shit man, please don't let me be still taking daytime classes when I'm 35, hitting on 18 year old chicks. If that's my fate, snuff me out NOW.

Old bastards. Sorta failing at that whole "livin' life" thing, aren't you?

Stay classy

Revelation on the Bowl

2009-11-07T19:24:00.009-05:00

Readership, as I dropped a deuce today, I had a revelation.

While you can argue all day whether the mother of invention is ingenuity or necessity, at the end of the day, its father will ALWAYS be laziness.

An explanation? Oh of course. I'll go even further than just a mere explanation. I'll give examples.

But first, an explanation.

Inventing something new requires a few things. For one, it requires intelligence. This can be debated, but usually when something that's actually worth a damn gets invented, the inventor wasn't an idiot. The key phrase here is "actually worth a damn." I could invent a toothbrush with four heads and three bristles, and since there's nothing out there that can say it's a toothbrush with four heads and three bristles, it's a new invention. Is it worth a damn, though? Fuck no it's not.

Secondly, inventing something requires creativity. This one can't be debated - every single invention, by its definition, is borne of a thought or idea that is OUTSIDE the norm, aka creative. The Sun was nice, but only around during the day, and the idea of a night-light being anything but a candle or a fireplace was a ridiculous, almost asinine concept before Thomas Edison dropped the mindfuck of lightbulbery on the world.

Thirdly, inventing something requires perseverance. Keeping with the Thomas Edison example, his first lightbulb design was FAR from perfect - as were his second, third, fourth, hundredth, and ten thousandth designs. However, after ten thousand designs that sucked major donkey balls and failed completely, the winning design was invented and the lightbulb lived.

Now all that is well and good, but the SINGLE THING that every invention needs - the inciting incident, the catalyst, the spark - is, unequivocally, pure and utter laziness.

Now it's time to be makin' with the examples.

"I don't wanna have to use this bitchass abacus anymore. It takes too much effort." That led to the calculator.

"I'm sick of having to go out in the woods, cut down a tree, cut it up into logs for hours on end, and then throw it into the fire - JUST to have some heat and be able to cook my food!" Enter the heater and stove.

"Why do I have to use this got-damn stove - all that watching the stuff and making sure it doesn't burn takes hella effort." Hello microwave.

"I really don't wanna have to spend time writing a letter and then waiting for it to get to my homeboy across country." And so the telephone was invented.

Courtesy of Waffles: "'I'm so tired of chasing vagina.' And thus the girlfriend was invented.'"

He's kidding. Calm down.

But yeah. I can go on and on with this all day, but I think you've got the gist down. Every single thing that's been invented was invented due to the inventor's laziness, which just happened to be (ironically) coupled with a dedication and ingenuity that would not let them quit until the stimulus that brought on the need for said laziness was eradicated.

And that, readership, is what I think of while I'm taking a shit.

Stay classy

Actually, No I Didn't Hear You

2009-11-05T17:13:00.003-05:00

Readership, once again, a conversational "what the fuck." Let me spit it atcha real quick.

Sometimes, during the course of a conversation (textual or in person), you'll simply not understand something the other person says, or even worse, not hear it. In such situations, it's customary for you to say something along the lines of "what do you mean?" or "what did you say?" respectively.

If the person that you're talking to is NOT a douchebag, they will either explain their meaning more clearly for you until you understand, or repeat what they said a little more loudly or clearly so you can hear it, again, respectively.

However, it seems that there's been a recent trend of people acting absolutely retarded and saying "you know what I mean" (as a statement, not as a question), or "you heard me" in these situations.

Really? I know what you mean, eh? Funny, because usually in the course of normal human interactions, if I knew what you meant, I'm pretty sure I WOULDN'T BE ASKING FOR CLARIFICATION.

Oh? I heard you, did I? I mean, it's just that when I hear what people say, I don't tend to ask them to repeat it because I DIDN'T hear it.

Extreme circumstances can arise, most notably in textual communications (it's very hard to tell inflection and intent through purely textual communications), although there can be complications in face-to-face communications (especially if one or both of the conversation-havers are sarcastic and/or assholes). But barring that, if you say something to which I respond "what do you mean?" or "wait, what did you say?" FUCKING ANSWER ME SO WE CAN MOVE ON.

Jeeze man.

Oh. And by the way. This is the 150th post of this here steaming pile of shit. To all of you who have been here since day 1 (aka one or two of you, if that), and to all of you who have jumped on board and stayed (for whatever reason), all I have to say is . . .

I am so sorry.

Nah, I'm kidding. Thanks. All the times I've heard positive shit about this (and negative too - haters keep hatin' cuz I thrives off it!) has kept me going.

All that mushy shit aside, you've got homework. And you know what it is.

Stay classy

If Only You Could Speak as Well as You Write

2009-11-04T18:40:00.005-05:00

Readership, I'm in a Theology course that emphasizes the connection between pagan literature and Biblical scripture. As such, we delve into some shit that might border on bullshit, and most of this stuff is in the form of written words (essays, written quizzes, message board postings, etc.)

People write some OD eloquent shit, I'm not gonna lie. But then, the professor asks them to read what they've written.

This is when the problems start.

"Like, what I'm, like, tryin' to like, say, is, like this is all, like, myths."

What the fuck? That sentence was ten words long, and you expanded it wholly unnecessarily to fifteen.

Fuckin' bullshit.

Stay classy

Yet ANOTHER Thing that I Hate

2009-11-03T15:53:00.003-05:00

Yup, readership, I'm back with something else that pisses me off. You can add this to bottled water, newer Cartoon Network, the Land Before Time, people who act retarded, shoes that make noise, Nostradamus, Kanye West and stupidass commercials. My path to Lewis Black-ness is almost complete haha.

But I digress.

Something that I've noticed people doing a lot lately (not specifically this example, but this is the format) is as follows:

Person A: Do you want a Coke or a Dr. Pepper?
Person B: Yes.

Let us examine this bullshit for a moment. Person B has been given two options (which, I might add, are QUITE different), and instead of opting for one or the other, or even giving the much-hated "I don't care"/"surprise me" response (fucking HATE that), they've chosen to respond with "Yes." Yes what, dumbass?

PICK ONE YA FUCK.

And whatever you do

Stay classy

An Interesting Philosophical Question

2009-11-03T10:55:00.023-05:00

Note: While this post operates on what I'll call "THE MAIN POINT" (which you'll see below), this is NOT a post against women, or a post degrading women. While I know in my heart of hearts that women (and more specifically, Vaginas) will bring on the end of the male half of the human race, the following bears no male chauvinistic hatred towards women, and is merely an observation and statement of an opinion which will (hopefully) make you laugh. End of commercial!

Readership, as a kgb_ Special Agent, I handle a lot of questions from the average American (and now, apparently the average UK resident as well). Some of them are normal, involving math, science, or English, or who starred in some movie. Others, however, are ridiculous. I'm not allowed to repeat the questions I find ridiculous outside of kgb_ because of the odd chance that the person who asked the question (technically in confidence with us at kgb_) will see their question and see me saying how ridiculous it was and feel bad and spread the word that kgb_ Special Agents are assholes and make us lose business, etc.

Anyway.

That said, every now and then, there's a question asked that is PURE GOLD, and as it happens, I have one such question currently, which I will put to you. I hope you're ready.

kgb_ customer: If you force sex on a hooker, is it considered rape or shoplifting?

Yes.

That was my reaction.

But before I go any further, allow me to acknowledge that LEGALLY, this is rape. As in, if you were to force sex on a hooker, and were arrested, you would be charged with rape, not shoplifting. The following is more of an Observationalist view than a legal view on the subject.

That said, let us examine this question by first defining our terms "hooker," "rape," and "shoplifting."

Thanks to good ol' Dictionary.com we can easily find those definitions. I'll define them quickly for you.

Hooker - slang n. prostitute
Rape - n. the unlawful compelling of a woman through physical force or duress to have sexual intercourse
Shoplifting - v. to steal (merchandise) as a shoplifter

Now, a hooker (or prostitute) renders sexual services for financial gain. Shoplifting (or stealing) entails getting services rendered or goods delivered and not enduring any (immediate) negative financial repercussions.

THE MAIN POINT: Hookers are criminals, and as such, give up most of their rights when they become hookers. That might sound fucked up, but to everyone who says "that's not right, Fred the Observer! You're fucked up man!" think about this: whenever you see a hooker, do you immediately try to befriend them? Or are you like "fuck this hooker, me and my bros/hos are gonna mess up her day!"? Of course you think the latter. Any responsible American would.

And I don't wanna hear shit about "ohh they have their children to feed and they're raising the kid by themselves cuz the baby daddy left" fuck that shit. If you weren't a loose hussy, you wouldn't have the kid in the first place, so having a kid is no reason to be a hooker (MAYBE a stripper, but not a hooker).

That said, I believe that forcing sex on a hooker is shoplifting. You're stealing a service that you'd normally pay for.

Fucked up? Perhaps. But you won't have to worry about any of this if you just do one simple thing.

What is that thing? Oh readership, you already know.

Stay classy

Boobies

2009-10-30T14:21:00.003-04:00

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!

2009-10-20T16:54:00.003-04:00

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

2009-10-19T22:02:00.007-04:00

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

2009-10-19T15:02:00.005-04:00

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?

2009-10-19T11:43:00.003-04:00

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 . . .

2009-10-18T00:53:00.005-04:00

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

2009-10-13T15:52:00.001-04:00

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!

2009-10-07T18:17:00.004-04:00

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

2009-10-04T15:25:00.004-04:00

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

2009-10-01T10:30:00.002-04:00

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

Class Emails

2009-09-29T01:07:00.006-04:00

Readership, as you very well know, there are quite a few things in this wide wide world of ours that piss me right the hell off. To name a few, bottled water, people who act retarded, Kanye West, stupidass commercials, newer Cartoon Network, and the Land Before Time.

But something that pisses me off more often than most things are stupidass people sending stupidass emails about class stuff. I'm going to quote an email that I received a little while ago.

"Do we have class this week?"

That's it. That's the entirety of the email. That and the name of the person who sent it (which I'll keep to myself because I'm not a douchebag). Now let's look at how FUCKING STUPID that is.

Without the name of the class, or what time the class is, or what day of the week the class is, there's almost nothing I can do - short of going through every single class I have, looking for the class we share, and then seeing if we have that class (which we inevitably do, because if we didn't, the professor is smart and courteous enough to SEND US AN EMAIL, thus eliminating the need for someone to email the entire class asking if we do or not).

It's just astounding that people actually think that people are willing to do all that shit just to help YOU out. Honestly, people don't give that much of a shit about you. If you want an answer, give enough information to make it easier for the person(s) you emailed to find it and help you, or at the very least give them enough information to give them incentive to do the little bit of legwork needed to see if the class is on for the week.

Ya dumb shit.

Oh. And I broke the record again for most posts in a month with a nice round sixteen.

Suck on that bitches.

Stay classy

Oh White People . . .

2009-09-25T20:48:00.008-04:00

Note: This is not a racist post. Really. I have a lot of white friends - and a lot of Hispanic, black and Asian friends too. I don't hate, I just tell it like it is. If you know me, you know that whatever is said below has no racist malice behind it. And if you don't know me and/or think that this is some racist shit, fuck you. You, good sir/madame, can suck my dick. The following is just an observation about some typical white-people stuff. End of commercial!

Readership, I was watching the banginest sci-fi show on Fox ever (aka FRINGE. if you're not watching Fox on Thursday nights at 9pm Eastern on a weekly basis, GET ON IT), and the following scenario presented itself.

White guy, construction dude, goes back out to the site to get his gloves (because he forgot them). The gloves are next to a cornfield, and as soon as he picks up the gloves he sees the cornstalks moving by themselves, as though something's moving through them.

Let's pause for a moment here. Right now, this man has two choices. A) Grab gloves and run away, or B) Grab gloves and investigate these moving cornstalks. Someone with self-preservation in mind would choose option A without even the slightest bit of hesitation. But, white people being white people, he had to choose option B and investigate.

So, this guy chooses option B and goes to investigate. A few seconds later, he finds what seems to be four human fingers - which just happen to be metallic blue - sticking out of the ground.

Now, let's pause again right there. He's already made the wrong choice before, and now he is faced with a similar predicament. Option A) You've investigated, you could draw your own conclusions, you're still alive, you have your gloves, GET THE FUCK AWAY, or option B) Hmmm... I wanna shake its hand.

I'll give you two guesses as to which option he chose.

You really only need one though. Because if you're right, we're done, and if you're wrong, it's the other one, so it's really not a guess. But anyway.

So this guy decides "hey let's shake this (seemingly) dismembered hand that's stuck in the ground." And actually, it turns out that this seemingly dismembered hand is actually membered - that is, attached to someone - that someone being some FUCKING WEIRD METALLIC BLUE HALF-SCORPION/HALF-TWELVE-YEAR-OLD BOY MONSTER THING. Which sucks him under the ground and eats him.

With this experience safely under our belts (said experience being the witnessing of a white guy doing some stupid, "directly against my sense of self-preservation"-type shit), let us examine the modern horror movie.

We all know what happens, inevitably. The black man is ALWAYS the one to die first. Let's take a look at that really quick. Scenario time!

Four white people and their black friend are walking down the street, when it starts raining. Let me remind you that it is the month of November, and is thus quite cold, and the chances of getting seriously ill in the rainy outside world are quite high. The white male leader (cuz there's always one), scopes out an abandoned house down the road a ways, and says to his companions, "Hey gang, let's hole up in that abandoned house down the road, and get out of the rain." And immediately all of the white companions agree, "yeah, that's a good idea, we'll catch a cold out here in the rain."

Black guy's like "FUCKKKKKKKK that shit. Abandoned-ass house? You on some other shit my dude. I'm out."

In the examination of that scenario, we see that the black man is willing to risk pneumonia by staying out in the rain, instead of risking death by decapitation (or worse!) inside that creepy-ass abandoned house (which, as he thinks about it, definitely wasn't there yesterday). In this story, he makes it home, has a nice bowl of soup to warm himself up, and goes to bed. Then he wakes up the next morning and sees the news report that ALL OF HIS FRIENDS DIED in that dumbass abandoned house.

But see, that scenario doesn't exist in horror movies, and in fact, the black guy(s) only begin to think "what the fuck'm I doin' here, this is some white-people-type shit to do, I'm out!" once they're inside the creepy-ass house for a little bit. But, since the white people have been walking around in big-ass groups with flashlights and candles and their Green Day ringtones going off every time they get a "where you at?" text from their wannabe gangsta "homies" for the past hour or so, the crazy ax-wieldin', escaped-from-the-asylum, cut-you-up-and-stew-you murderer dude has already sealed the exits and is fixin' to EAT THEM. So it's too late.

So. In summation. Not saying that white people are dumb, or that they should die first in horror movies. I'm just sayin' that white people tend to do some questionable shit when it comes to "investigating" shit that doesn't seem safe at first glance, and then CONTINUE TO DO SO when they've all but ascertained the fact that THIS SHIT AIN'T SAFE.

And if after all of this, you still think this was a "white people are st00pid" post, then you must be white and talking about yourself. Think about it. Bitch.

Damn. I went in.

Stay classy

"It's a Bird! It's a Plane! It's an Idiot with Visual Spatial Deficiencies!"

2009-09-20T22:14:00.003-04:00

Readership, as I drove down the highway with my running mate Waffles and R 'n R, headed towards a day of shenaniganery on Long Island, I had a thought (rare occurrence, I know).

I'm pretty sure that old-school Superman is a little before the times of most people that read this (I know it's before MY time). But the thing that everybody seemed to say when they clapped eyes on Superman has transcended time and space and has become a phrase known all over the place. You know what I'm talking about: "Look! Up in the sky! It's a bird! It's a plane! It's SUPERMAN!"

How fuckin' stupid is that?

"It's a bird! Something that can only grow to be around 12 feet wide!"

"No! It's a plane! Something that's got a maximum length of 239 feet and a wingspan the size of a football field!"

"No, you're BOTH wrong! It's Superman! A being from outer space that's only about 6'3"!"

So you went from something that can't fit into a football stadium to a PERSON!? How the fuck can you mistake a PERSON in the sky for an AIRPLANE?

Fuckin' ridiculous.

Stay classy

YOUR Life is Rough? Bullshit

2009-09-15T12:56:00.006-04:00

Readership, I am quite pissed. I've been hearing a lot of celebrities complaining. A LOT. About stupid shit. Most recently, it was Kanye West. Now by this time I'm sure all of you (or at least most of you) have heard about his recent dick move at the VMAs (and if you haven't, check this out).

Anyway.

Kanye recently appeared on the Jay Leno Show and offered an apology to Taylor Swift (which I'll get to in a bit, because it also pissed me off a little), during which he said something to the tune of "my life is hard."

WHAT THE FUCK!?

YOUR life is hard!? You, Kanye Muthafuckin' West, have a hard life? You, who can shit fifty dollar bills and wipe your ass with C-notes, have a hard life? You LITERALLY have money coming out of your ass. You do NOT have a hard life.

Now I have FAR from a hard life, but let's compare. Kanye West has untold millions of dollars (I'm guessing. for some strange reason people seem to love his music and buy his shit). Whereas with me, I'm already close to seventy thousand dollars in debt due to college loans. Kanye West wonders what to buy with his money. I wonder how the fuck I'm gonna pay back seventy-plus thousand dollars when I graduate.

Kanye West has a job - nay, a CAREER - which gives him so much success it's ridiculous, and almost guarantees him a continual (very high) income and the means to live the life he does and continue to do so. The closest thing I have to a job is working for kgb_ which nets me a grand old ten cents per question I answer, which, if I work my ass off on kgb_, works out to something to the tune of two bucks and change an hour. Also, due to the bitchass Internet connection at my school, I haven't been able to work much on kgb_, so I'm looking at a grand total of around two bucks made for the entire month of September (as opposed to somewhere close to forty bucks for August).

Kanye West (I'm assuming) has limos and private jets that will take him wherever the hell he wants to go. My ailing grandma flew into NYC from Puerto Rico and was staying in the Bronx with my uncle. I'm in Queens, but I didn't have the money for a Metro Card that would get me there and back.

Like I said before, I KNOW that compared to other people my life is a fucking PICNIC. It's not rough at all. But when people who are MULTI-FUCKING MILLIONAIRES start complaining about how rough THEIR lives are, I get kinda pissed the fuck off.

Oh, and about the apology? Some people are like "oh well at least he apologized" but to me, he looks like even more of a bitch for apologizing. Don't get it twisted at all, I would've rather he didn't do that stupid shit he did in the first place, but if you're gonna be a piece of shit on TV - if you feel strongly enough to jump up on stage at the fucking VMAs and insult Taylor Swift in front of countless millions of TV viewers and thousands of live fans inside Radio City Music Hall - then stand by your decision. Don't, after seeing that everyone thought you were a douchebag for doing it, try to apologize and play like you felt that it was wrong the whole time. Little bitch.

Anyway.

Just had to get that out, because it pissed me off just a little bit.

Stay classy

A Short One (that's what she said)

2009-09-15T10:52:00.003-04:00

Readership, I've been wondering this for a while. Why, on the covers of fiction books, does it say "a novel"? For example this.

Oh REALLY? So you say it's a NOVEL, eh?

Well shit, man, thanks for letting me know! Here I was - silly me - thinking it was a baby monkey!

Fuckin' dumbass.

Stay classy

GENDER DISCRIMINATION!

2009-09-14T01:25:00.006-04:00

Readership, there's something that's been pissing me off.

Females in general can have their boobies all hangin' out and wear super short skirts so their sexy legs are all out there and being sexy and whatnot, and it's all good. NOTE: I AM NOT COMPLAINING. KEEP DOIN' WHATCHA DO SEXY LADIES.

But I digress.

While all that's well and good, there's a bit of gender discrimination going on. While chicks can basically have their boobs or asscheeks anywhere from 80-90% visible, if a guy cops a boner - which in all situations but a specific and VERY SELECT few stays INSIDE PANTS - it's suddenly "ewwwww what the fuck is wrong with you!?" etc. etc.

Let's look at this shit for a second. So it's cool for chicas to have their boobs all out, but boners are icky? Not to be vulgar, but last time I checked, boners weren't icky when they were, y'know, inside you. Just sayin'.

And then, there's the fact that, as R 'n R noted, if chicks weren't barely wearing clothes all the time, dudes wouldn't be coppin' boners in your presence in the FIRST DAMN PLACE.

So shit. Give it a rest with the boner-hate ladies.

And PLEASE.

Stay classy

That Stupid Taco Bell Evander Holyfield Commercial

2009-09-14T01:02:00.006-04:00

Readership, it seems that commercials have been pissing me off very much lately. Here's the latest addition to the "Stupid Fucking Commercials that Need to Never be Aired Again" category:

Now let's look at this logically. Evander Holyfield is 6'2". Basically, I can look his one-and-one-half-ear-havin' self directly in the eye (I'm 6'1"). But if you see this commercial, they make him look, as YouTube user dclem8 said, "like Andre the Giant."

Now, since whenever I go to a fast food place (which is NEVER Taco Bell because they scientifically engineer THE SHITS into ALL of their food), me and my 6'1" self never make the person behind the counter - NAY, THE COUNTER ITSELF! - look like they were stolen from a Barbie dollhouse, there has to be some shenaniganery going on here. The way I see it, there are two ways that this could have been achieved.

One, there was a little special cinematography going on. There are ways for the camera to be positioned in certain ways that either make things look a lot bigger or a lot smaller than they actually are (mind out of the gutter, readership).

Two, they made the counter a lot smaller than the counter usually is, and then, on top of that, got a small actress (I think her name is Paige? according to the YouTube comments anyway), and then lowered the floor directly behind the counter so that in addition to being short as hell, she was even lower in comparison to the counter and Holyfield.

There was a little bit of both probably.

But what the hell. HE'S NOT THAT FUCKIN' TALL.

And yes, that commercial pissed me off enough to go balls-out here.

Stay classy

Are We Really that Stupid?

2009-09-13T13:33:00.004-04:00

Readership, during a Google search of "how to rank up on Halo 3" (yes, I've been getting a little frustrated lately with the seemingly arbitrary rising and falling of my rank online, I'll admit it), my phone went off as Waffles texted me. After answering the text, I looked back to my computer screen to see that of the seven words of my search query, I had only typed in the first two.

Now, Google has this nifty little thing it does that "suggests" what you might be searching for, based on whatever you've already typed in. This is a real time-saver sometimes, because it makes it so that you don't have to type in the entire search query, and can instead just click on the one you intended to type and be on your merry searching way.

With "how to" in the search bar, a few things popped up. Two of the first three bothered me a little bit.

First, we have "how to tie a tie," which, I'll admit, was something that puzzled me until about a year ago. If you have no idea what you're doing, tying a tie is quite difficult, and in this age of Googling the answers to life's questions, it would almost be expected for you to Google "how to tie a tie." So that was the one that DIDN'T bother me.

The second one, however, started to bite at me a little bit. "How to kiss." I mean, boiled down to its bare essentials, kissing in its entirety can be accomplished in two steps: 1. Move in 2. Touch lips. I'm nowhere near naive or ignorant enough to think that that's it, and I do know that there are far more intricacies into the subtle art and exact science that is being a good kisser (and, not to toot my own horn, but I've been told on numerous occasions by different chicas that I'm quite a good kisser - AND I NEVER GOOGLED "HOW TO KISS"). That said, Googling "how to kiss" is A) unproductive (just do it and work it out from there man) and B) kinda pathetic (you're seriously Googling "how to kiss"? come on man). So yeah, that one was a little bothersome.

But the third one - ooooh the third one was the worst of all.

"HOW TO GET PREGNANT"

P IN VAJAY BUST A NUT AND WAIT. If the fucking cavemen didn't worry about all the ovulation cycles and all that other technical bullshit, and WE'RE STILL HERE, I guess it doesn't matter much past penis+vagina+semen+time=pregnancy.

Just had to let that out. Now I'm gonna go see how to rank up on Halo.

Stay classy

Once Again . . .

2009-09-12T20:48:00.003-04:00

I've found a commercial that pisses me off.

Readership, at this point I'm sure you've seen the Domino's commercial about the Chocolate Lava Cake and the Bread Bowl Pasta. The whole thing is about who should get the credit for it, between the chefs and the accountants (who apparently are responsible for the whole "buy one Bread Bowl Pasta and get a Chocolate Lava Cake for free" deal). In the commercial, they're legit debating about who should get the most credit. SERIOUSLY debating.

What the fuck? Isn't it obvious?

The chefs are the ones who deserve ALL the credit. Without the chefs, those accountants have nothing to fucking make a price for at all - aka, without the chefs, the accountants have no job at all. Whereas the chefs don't need accountants, they could just make their Chocolate Lava Cakes and Bread Bowl Pastas and then just peddle that shit on the streets dolo and not give a fuck.

The thing that pisses me off the most though is when the accountants are like "well we made it free."

If I was a chef I'd respond with something along the lines of, I dunno, "WELL WE MADE IT PERIOD YA DUMB FUCKS!"

Sheesh.

Stay classy

The MOST AWKWARD EXPERIENCE EVER

2009-09-11T14:12:00.005-04:00

Readership, I was waiting for class to start this fine afternoon at around 12, when I suddenly felt the need to drop a deuce - y'know, take a pooper.

So I went into the bathroom. And into the handicapped stall (because I never know when the urge to dance might strike, so I need the space). And then I proceeded to deuce.

Seconds later, someone else entered the bathroom, walked deliberately and purposefully towards the other, non-handicapped stall, and entered. Then shit got weird.

Instead of just unzippin' and taking a leak (as, believe it or not, a LOT of guys do, even with free urinals available), he started taking shit out of his pockets - metallic-sounding shit. And a lot of it.

So there I was, on the bowl, pants around muh damn ankles, and there was this guy in the stall next to me changing out of his street clothes into his fuckin' hitman uniform, checking his guns and shit. I would've shit myself but A) I had already finished shitting and B) I was trying not to have this crazy dude know that there was someone in the next stall watching him prepare and whatnot.

Then it got weirder. Because in the span of like a second and a half, he dropped his pants, whirled around 180 degrees, sat down on the bowl AND RECTALLY EXPLODED.

So then I was trying not to laugh cuz he was still firin' off small arms (as opposed to bombs), and I was able to make myself presentable again, I washed my hands and got the fuck up outta there.

Probably the single funniest/most awkward moment of my life.

Stay classy

Tyler Perry . . .

2009-09-10T00:12:00.002-04:00

I thoroughly enjoy the Madea movies. In all seriousness, they're funny movies.

But seriously man. After a while, I gotta wonder why you keep dressing up like a female and parading around in a wig.

Just wondering.

Stay classy

"Aww that's so cuuuuuute"

2009-09-09T23:57:00.007-04:00

Okay readership, this is something that makes me very perplexed.

I've noticed that chicks think some strange shit is "cute." Shit that most people (myself included) would NEVER think to call cute. Examples? Please, readership, you know me too well.

Not two minutes ago, I made R n' R a PB&J sammich. I handed her the jar of jelly as she handed me back the peanut butter jar so I could put it back and she could open the jelly so I could spread it on the other slice of bread and make said amazing sammich.

Her words? "Awwww look at this jar of jelly it's so cute!"

What the fuck? "It's just that it's so small, it's cute!"

And then Waffles - "You must LOVE Asian guys."

So small jars of jelly are cute? And that's not all!

I'm sure you've all seen the commercial for this menace. Near the end of said commercial, one of the chicks says, and I'll paraphrase "Ohhhh look it's so cute!"

WHAT!? Let's think about that for a second. First of all, it's a fuckin' VIBRATOR THAT YOU PUT ON YOUR FINGER. I dunno about YOU but I sure as hell don't think "cute" when I think of finger-mounted vibrators.

Then, just LOOK at the fucking thing. It's like a shark with ridges. How the fuck is that CUTE!?

Jesus.

Stay classy

The Most Religious People in the World . . .

2009-09-04T19:31:00.004-04:00

. . . are definitely drug dealers. And gangstas. Not like those fake-ass punk bitch kids who're like "yo run your shit I'm gangsta," I'm talking the ones with cocked Berettas held sideways to your temple shouting some crazy shit about your chain and respect.

Maybe gangstas feel bad about all the cap-bustin' and dome-stompin' they do, and feel that maybe they'll get some kind of favorable treatment when they get to that Gangsta Paradise in the sky if they get there rockin' a Jesus piece (or more recently, the "thing" seems to be rosary beads), in addition to their 7 3/8" fitted and the nickel 9 in their waistband.

"How'd you get here, my son?"
"Chill with the questions bitchnigga Saint Peter, I got my Jesus piece so lemme in 'fore I bust a cap up in that halo and wing-rockin' ass o' yours."
"Oooooh I see okay."

Not how I envision a gangsta's reception at the Pearly Gates.

Drug dealers are in a similar vein. Now, let me be clear - I don't do drugs, I've never interacted with a drug dealer (while he or she was dealing, anyway, as I DO know people who sling some trees every now and then). However, I've seen enough drug dealers on the street and whatnot to make this observation: aside from priests, drug dealers have the highest Jesus-piece-per-body percentage out of any other type or person.

Once again, I think it boils down to a redemption type of thing. They're selling all these terrible substances to all these people who will in turn use them and either trip balls and do something stupid to themselves or someone else, or they'll die from the effects, which makes them feel like a piece of shit.

But with all the Jesuses glinting gold in the glow from the streetlamps, you almost want to ask these people: "What would Jesus do?"

And as R n' R said: "Not sell drugs!"

Ain't that the truth.

Stay classy

Mass Transit

2009-09-03T12:03:00.002-04:00

Readership, as I walked back to Henley from campus (a distance of approximately a mile), I ironically realized something about mass transit.

In Connecticut (from whence I hail), there are only three reasons to EVER ride the bus. One, you're too young to drive. Two, you're too old and fucked up to drive. Three, you're a bum. Back home it was VERY rare to see someone on the bus other than the driver that didn't fall into one or more of those three categories. Occasionally you'd have the businessman that recently got into a car accident or had his transmission take a shit on him and catch him at a financially vulnerable time, so he doesn't have money to get a rental or whatever, and thus takes the bus. But those guys are like freakin' ninjas - they're not trying to be seen on the bus.

However, all that said, in New York (where I'm at and hope to stay), it's weird as shit to drive. I mean, a ton of people do it still, but there are a couple of things that make people not want to drive. One, drivers in New York are ABSOLUTELY FUCKING CRAZY. Magnify whatever stereotypes or jokes you've heard about crazy drivers in New York by like 10 and you'll be about 1% of the way there. Another, the mass transit system is SUPER legit (as long as you know where you're going and how to get there).

But there ARE still bums on the bus. Yay for similarities

These are the things I think about on the walk back to Henley haha

Stay classy

BULLSHIT

2009-09-01T22:51:00.002-04:00

Readership, currently my roommate and Xbox LIVE running mate Waffles is on the phone with some cunt-ticklin' customer service team for this wireless router he just got for the room (because the wireless here sucks donkey penis). You know how when you call customer service they always put you on hold, and there's this like montage of bullshit about their company and how awesome they are, complete with "motivational" music and shit? Well that's the part he was at about a minute ago. For like twenty minutes.

He turned to me mid-shit and said "they just said some shit about 'award-winning customer service.'"

And then we both said....

"BULLSHIT."

Stay classy

"Do Not Attempt"

2009-09-01T18:05:00.011-04:00

Readership, the advertisement agencies of America are retarded - either that, or they think that the average American is retarded (and according to the first paragraph of this, they're ALMOST right). Allow me to explain.

This mainly applies to advertisements on television, usually car commercials, but basically any commercial with anything completely ridiculous included in it. For the car commercials, you see the car in question driving around, maybe at a speed slightly higher than the speed limit, but otherwise doing some normal-ass shit. Like the car will drive around a corner in a deserted intersection, and on the bottom in letters that almost perfectly blend in to the background, it says "Do not attempt."

Well what the fuck? Am I supposed to just drive in a straight line all the damn time, hoping that somebody hits me while I cross through the intersection, so I can turn and get on my merry way? Or is it that you're talking about not attempting to corner in a deserted intersection during what's obviously early afternoon (based on shadows and whatnot), meaning that there would be cars all over the fucking place? Because if THAT'S your concern, then shit, you got me. I was totally planning on KILLING EVERYBODY so I could just drive through fucking intersections all day and night.

And then there's the fact that you almost have to be looking at it with a magnifying glass connected to some kind of super military goggles to even SEE the damn "Do not attempt" at the bottom. It's almost like these bastards WANT us to attempt it, but just in case we do and fuckin' KILL OURSELVES, they can have their lawyers point to the bottom of the screen and say "Ahem . . . 'do not attempt.' Not our fault." Freakin' retarded.

The ones that get to me the most though, are in the recent batch of Toyota commercials. The formula for these commercials is as follows: a beat-up, piece of shit, budget-ass car gets grabbed up by some fuckin' Transformers-esque metal claw, and then a sparkly brand-new Toyota drops from the piece of shit's chassis onto the pavement, much to the surprise and joy of the owner.

But along the bottom of the screen it says "Do not attempt."

OH REALLY! Because shit, I was JUST thinking of calling up OPTIMUS FUCKING PRIME to lend me his crane claw thing so I could pick up this piece of shit car and have a BRAND NEW BLUE TOYOTA COROLLA DROP OUT.

I mean seriously? How can you even FATHOM an attempt at something like that? Who has the means to even USE a crane like that? First off you need to have access to the crane and the know-how to use it. And then there's the whole BRAND NEW CAR DROPPING OUT OF A PIECE OF SHIT thing. There are these things called THE LAWS OF PHYSICS that prevent shit like that from ever happening.

Ridiculous.

Stay classy

You Know What I Hate?

2009-08-31T09:55:00.002-04:00

Besides bottled water, people who act retarded, newer Cartoon Network, Canadian scientists, Gamestop, the guy who leaked the 2003 MLB steroid list, the Land Before Time, and a whole bunch of other shit, I mean?

Olive Garden Commercials. They're all like "hey look at us we're having such a good fucking time at Olive Garden. Oh man we're such good friends look at us passing the Neverending Breadsticks and laughing at some unfunny shit. Look at this guy, he's my best friend, I wonder if he knows I banged his wife while he was at that conference in Oklahoma hahaha just kiddin' Frankie (but Darline, how's tonight at 10 sound?) hahaha we're such awesome friends."

I've BEEN to Olive Garden, this shit doesn't happen. Believe me.

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

Forest Whitaker . . .

2009-08-30T19:50:00.001-04:00

FIX YOUR DAMN EYE! Shit man, you have money comin' out your fuckin' ass, instead of buying that new Ferrari BUY A NEW FUCKIN' EYE. Ain't no need for your shit to look like this.

GET YOUR SHIT FIXED.

And please.

Stay classy

They Must've Thought 1950s Kids Were RETARDED

2009-08-29T22:59:00.007-04:00

Readership, I was surfing through good ol' YouTube when I caught this little gem. The more I watched, the more ridiculous it became, to the point where it wasn't even funny anymore, because I realized that the people making this video (aka the U.S. Government, against which I've called shenanigans before) were quite serious. Peep.

Some quotes that made me chuckle or scratch my head - and in some cases, both:
1:05- "The principle dangers of a blast are flying glass and debris."
Really? No, seriously? Yeah? Well shit, then I'm a lot better off than I thought. Cuz I was thinking the principle danger would be, I dunno, THE FUCKING NUCLEAR EXPLOSION. Who knew?

1:45- "However, the majority of people exposed to radiation recovered completely."
Hahaha BULLSHIT. A quick Google search yields this. The quick version? YOU CAN'T FUCKING TREAT RADIATION SICKNESS.

2:55- "If you live in a private home that is well-built, the cellar is the safest place to be."
Not it's not dumbass. If a 50 Megaton explosion (i.e. the equivalent force of 50 million tons of TNT) goes off anywhere near your house, you could be anywhere you want, you're fuckin' dead times twelve and a half.

The funniest one though, is visual. From 6:48 to 7:02. I'm not even gonna say anything more than YOU'VE GOT TO BE FUCKING KIDDING ME HAHAHAHAHAHA.

Holy Black Jesus, what in the sam hill was the U.S. Government thinking? I mean, I understand not wanting to freak people out and whatnot, but there's a difference between not wanting to cause an uproar and COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY BULLSHITTING THE HELL OUT OF THE AMERICAN PUBLIC.

Which is what the U.S. Government did.

Surprise surprise.

Stay classy

Just Kick His Ass Already!

2009-08-24T19:42:00.011-04:00

Little-known statistic: One in every four Americans act retarded. Props to Bovice for the statistical research. As many of you know (if you've been reading this for any span of time, anyway), I absolutely hate and despise people that act retarded. Now, notice how I said people that ACT retarded, not people that ARE retarded. I hate when people don't get that distinction (ironically enough, making them fall into the category of "people who act retarded," which, concurrently, is a category of people that I absolutely hate and despise).

But I digress.

In keeping with the opening paragraph of this rant, the following commercial series makes me quite pissed off. While this isn't necessarily the worst commercial in the series, or the commercial that pissed me off the most out of all of them, it was the proverbial straw that broke the camel's back. The camel's back being the dam that held back my pissedoffery at this stupid fucking commercial.

But yeah.Watch it, let it sink in, and then read on.

How many fucking times does this kid have to hear it? THEY ARE FUCKING ROLLOVER MINUTES.

THEY DO NOT EXPIRE.

THEY DO NOT GET OLD.

It's not like they're FOOD, they don't SPOIL, they're MINUTES. It's fucking TIME, you idiot. The notion that time would have an expiration date is absolutely asinine, and so stupidly paradoxical that I might have to search this little prick out and kick his ass.

Once or twice, I can understand. The concept of rollover minutes is a little bit . . . miraculous, at first. Minutes that recycle over into next month? Oh hell yes.

But after the first couple times that your mom tells you that the minutes don't get old, that you don't need "new" minutes (and that's another thing - what in the monkeyfuck are "NEW" minutes?), you need to get it through your thick-ass head and fucking chill with asking for new minutes.

If the situation were different, I would've expected the mom to have whupped this little moron's ass already. I mean, if MY mom had told me that, for example, you can't touch flowers, and I kept doing it, she would've kicked my little ass. And this fucking idiot is at least 13-14 years old. When you're young, there's a little bit of what I like to call a "cute buffer" wherein because you're young and cute they'll let you get away with shit - to a point.

At 13-14 years old, though, you're just a dumbass.

Stay classy

WHO has a State Quarter!?

2009-08-23T00:20:00.007-04:00

Readership, if you'll recall, I made my feelings clear when it came to the idea that quarters could be "sold" for more than $.25 (and if you don't recall, read this . . . and then drop 'n gimme fifty).

However, a credible (if mildly reckless) source has just informed me that, in addition to the fifty state quarters that came in that ridiculous set (which my father has been sadly convinced will make him rich in twenty years), there are MORE so-called "State" quarters. "How the hell?" you wonder? As do I. Let's take a look and see what we can find.

Through the strategic use of my battle-honed kgb_ skills (aka Bing), I discovered that there are to be six - onetwothreefourfivesix, six - new quarters. The corresponding locales (because we can't call them "states" . . . because they're not) are Washington, D.C.; Puerto Rico (woot woot); Guam; the U.S. Virgin Islands; American Samoa; and the Northern Mariana Islands.

Now, despite all the "to be, or not to be (a State)" debate in Puerto Rico, I'm going to say that out of all of those locales, Washington, D.C. would be the ONLY one I would give a "State" quarter to, for obvious reasons. For starters, it's (geographically, if not politically) IN a state - as a matter of fact, it's actually in TWO states (Virginia and Maryland, for all the Commie scum out there). Secondly, regardless of the fact that Article One of the U.S. Constitution allows for a Federal district that is separate and distinct from the states to serve as the nation's permanent capital, Washington, D.C. is STILL in the Continental United States. It's much more a part of the country than Puerto Rico or Guam (the latter of which, in case you didn't know, is closer to Australia and Japan than it is to the USA). Thirdly, it's fucking Washington, D.C. Shit goes down. Respect.

Then there's the whole "what the fuck is ____?" issue. I'm not the smartest man in the world, and I am FAR from a whiz at geography (I thought Ohio was somewhere near Washington state until about seven months ago), but if you gave me a world map I could instantly point out Washington, D.C., Puerto Rico, Guam and American Samoa. I'm sure if you gave me a minute or two, I could even find the U.S. Virgin Islands.

But what the fuck are the Northern Mariana Islands? More importantly, WHERE the fuck are they? I'll answer both of those questions: from my research, they're tiny (emphasis on TINY, with a capital TINY, as in SMALL AS HELL) islands north of Guam. The image that they conjure up is this one, times like a billion.

So. U.S. Government. I put the question to you. A question that I'm sure you've been asked many a time in your 235-year career.

THE FUCK'RE YOU THINKING?

Stay classy

What the Hell, Cartoon Network.

2009-08-21T13:12:00.003-04:00

Readership, most of you, I'm sure, remember old school cartoon network (which is now known as "Boomerang"). You know what I'm talkin' about - Space Ghost, Johnny Bravo, Scooby-Doo, Dexter's Laboratory, Powerpuff Girls, Samurai Jack, etc. You know what all those shows had in common? A few things: 1) They were freakin' awesome; 2) They were on Cartoon Network; and 3) As such, they were actually cartoons. Cartoon Network was the shit back in the day. I would sit down and veg out in front of the TV for countless hours watching Dexter and DeeDee doing ridiculous shit, or the Powerpuff Girls beating the crap out of Mojo Jojo, or Samurai Jack being a FUCKING BADASS.

Now I check out Cartoon Network and guess what I see?

FUCKING REALITY SHOWS!?

CARTOON Network. Showing REALITY shows. With REAL, NON-CARTOON people.

What the fuck? That's like the History Channel showing the future.

Fucking ridiculous.

Stay classy

Zombies? Shut the Hell Up

2009-08-19T20:57:00.006-04:00

Props to Bovice for the topic.

Okay readership, there are a bunch of shenanigans going on in this world. Some of them are hilarious. Some of them are stupid. And then you have shit like this.

According to this article (which by now I'm sure most of you have seen already), scientists have been doing serious research into what would happen in the unlikely (aka FUCKING IMPOSSIBLE) event of . . . a zombie uprising.

It's kind of hard to write a serious sentence with the words "scientists," "serious research," and "zombies". Jeeze.

But yeah. There are "scientists" that are seriously looking into zombie plagues/uprisings. Their excuse? That a zombie uprising could be closely related to an epidemic of an unknown disease, and through modeling the progression of a zombie uprising, they could gain a higher understanding of what to expect if such an epidemic were to occur.

So lemme get this straight. "Scientists" are using a FICTIONAL and, moreover, IMPOSSIBLE OCCURRENCE to "accurately" predict and model the spread of a disease THAT HASN'T AND WILL PROBABLY NEVER HAPPEN.

What the fuck.

And they're quite intelligent, these "scientists." According to Professor Neil Ferguson, UK Government's Chief adviser on controlling the spread of Swine Flu and consultant to this research, "My understanding of zombie biology is that if you manage to decapitate a zombie then it's dead forever."

HOLY SHIT YOU FUCKING GENIUS! NO WAY!

This is serious research into something ridiculous and impossible, not to mention completely impractical. They're using government money to fund ridiculous research. If these were my tax dollars at work, I'd be pissed as hell.

But they're not my tax dollars.

Cuz they're doing this shit in Canada.

Where else could this kinda shit go down?

Fuckin' Canada.

Stay classy

Why Are Songs So Damn Sketchy?

2009-08-14T15:39:00.003-04:00

Hey there readership. I was talking to Maeron aka The Purp last night about music (she's got a music IQ off the charts, by the way), and I realized that there are some songs that are just too freakin' sketchy to be serious. Examples? Oh of course. Read on, peeps.

Example #1: Every Breath You Take - Sting Have you ever listened to this song? At the end of every verse it says "I'll be watching you." What the fuck? Why? Creeper.

Example #2: Sweet Love - Anita Baker At around 1:15 and 1:31. What the hell? C'mon Anita Baker, let's not be a creeper here.

Example #3: If I Was Invisible - Clay Aiken WHOA! "I could just watch you in your room"? No fucker, you couldn't. Cuz that would be illegal. And then I'd shoot you with my shotgun for trespassing. And now we know that that song was about a man. As my homeslices the Purp and A-Ham would say, "SMH."

Damn these sketchy ass songs. Sheesh.

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

Gamestop Can Burn in Hell and Get Anally Penetrated

2009-08-13T23:35:00.005-04:00

. . . after Waldy gets Halo 3: ODST and Assassin's Creed 2.

Readership, Gamestop is so fucking ridiculous. Let me spit it as it is real quick.

I don't usually play video games when I'm home (at school is a different story though). So, I figured I'd get a little bit of money trading in the games that I NEVER play (as opposed to the games that I SELDOM play). There were four games: Tony Hawk's Underground 2 (PS2), All-Star Baseball 2004 (PS2), Pa-Rappa The Rapper (PSP) and SOCOM: Tactical Strike (PSP). I honestly can't remember what I paid for the PS2 games, but realistically, it was at least $20 each. That's a VERY minimalistic estimate. Honestly, it's probably more like $30, but we'll go with $20. I got SOCOM for Christmas, but I saw it in the store and it was $40. Pa-Rappa The Rapper was $30. I know this because it still had the "$29.99 NEW" sticker on the box. So let's add that up. Two PS2 games at $20 each is $40, plus a $40 SOCOM is $80, plus a $30 Pa-Rappa is $110.

Let's pause here for a moment. I know that trading in games means a few things. One, as even if I just opened the box - and didn't even play it! - the game is used. Used means less value. I understand that. Two, when you trade games in to Gamestop, you can either get 100% of the trade-in value as a store credit, or get it in cash - minus 20%. I was short on money and needed some so I could go grab some food with my homies. I knew that my usual costs about 5 bucks. I knew how FUCKING RETARDED Gamestop is with their trade-in shit going into the situation. "What do you mean, Fred?" I'll tell you a true story: I've literally bought a game, played it, marked the box visibly and irreversibly, traded it in, and seen it back on the shelves as a used game for ten or fifteen bucks more than what they gave me for it.

Yeah. That's what I said.

Even STILL, I figured I'd get $15 (if I was lucky). Four games, one of them pretty recent (I got SOCOM for Christmas last year), and one of them clearly marked with its original price when new ($29.99). But regardless of all that, at the BARE MINIMUM, I thought I'd get $10.

AT THE LEAST.

You know how much I got back?

FIVE DOLLARS.

AND THIRTY-TWO CENTS.

THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN $6.65 STORE CREDIT. FOR GAMES I ORIGINALLY PAID $110 FOR.

Fuck you in the ass and burn in Hell, Gamestop.

Just give my homey Waffles his shit first.

IF YOU CAN, FUCKER.

Stay classy

Blue Whales are Dicks (no pun intended . . . sorta)

2009-08-10T19:40:00.003-04:00

Readership, I was having a conversation with R 'n R, and we had a freakin' revelation: Blue Whales are dicks!

Now looking at things literally, Blue Whales actually are dicks. Blue Whales have the largest penises in the entire world, at a whopping 16 feet. That would tear your shit up, Vaginas. Their entire length is around 80 feet. Holy shit. The Blue Whale's penis is twenty percent of its total length.

Just let that sink in for a second (no pun intended . . . again).

Now, whales don't get freaky - they don't put P in Vajay, as we do. Basically, a Blue Whale just swims around into warm waters, doing his "I'm a Blue Whale" thing, and spontaneously busts a nut. And then, a female whale is just chillin', swimmin' through some warm water doin' her whole "I'm chillin'" thing, and then - whoops, she's pregnant.

What a dick move, male Blue Whale.

What if that female Blue Whale wanted to go to college? Now you've just fucked her chances up. What if she was swimming on her way to go buy books, or register for classes? Now she's preggers. What the hell is she supposed to do now? How is she gonna tell her parents?

YOU'RE A DICK, MALE BLUE WHALE! AND YES THE PUN WAS INTENDED!

Dick.

Stay classy

This Bullshit Needs to Stop NOW

2009-08-09T00:29:00.004-04:00

Just a warning: I feel pretty passionately about this issue, so this is gonna get pretty angry.

Well, angrier than usual.

You've been warned. ONWARD!

Readership, I would consider myself a fan of baseball. The sport, the tradition, and my team, the New York Yankees (since the womb, so don't go starting with that frontrunner bullshit or I'll cut you).

Recently, as most baseball fans know, there have been rumors and leaks and discussions regarding a list of MLB players who tested positive for steroids in 2003.

This troubles me - no, this pisses me off - for a few reasons. One, the results were to remain confidential. Confidential is defined, loosely, as "DON'T FUCKING TELL ANYBODY." Loose definition, but it'll suffice for this argument. So some dumb fuck leaked it, DIRECTLY disobeying a direct order from a superior. Somebody sat the guy who leaked it down, at some point in 2003, and said "Listen buddy, here are the results of the steroid test. KEEP IT TO YOUR FUCKING SELF. Thanks!" Such a SIMPLE command - "don't tell anybody" - and yet the dipshit FAILED.

Another reason that this pisses me off is the date - 2003. What was going on in 2003? My Yankees got beaten in 6 games by the Marlins in the World Series (painful). A-Rod was AL MVP and Barry Bonds was NL MVP. That's dicey enough right there. But still - it was in 2003! A) Why are we hearing about this shit NOW, in 2009 and B) Why the fuck does it matter? What does it change? Everything that happened in the 2003 season HAPPENED and there's nothing we can do to change it. What, are we gonna go back into the record books and take away A-Rod's AL-leading 47 homers? What about Barry Bonds' NL MVP Award? Hell no, we're not.

I'm pissed that some stupid fuck leaked something that was supposed to remain CONFIDENTIAL, but I'm more pissed that A) He leaked it SIX YEARS LATER and B) He leaked it in fucking drips and drops. If you're gonna be a piece of shit and leak something that's supposed to remain confidential A) Do it when it's FUCKING RELEVANT and B) DROP IT ALL AT ONCE! The way this shit has been going, just when we're like "oh okay, people are playing by the rules now and have been for a while," this fucking twat drops another big name into the steroid stigma and we're left wondering "Who the fuck else?"

And that shit pisses me off. Who the fuck is the dumb shit douchebag that leaked this shit in the first place? We need to find him, piss on his door, egg his house, and kick the shit out of him.

All day. All night.

And twice on Sunday.

Because honestly, he deserves that.

At the least.

For fuck's sake!

Stay classy

Something I Just Noticed

2009-08-08T22:39:00.004-04:00

Did you ever notice that recent Presidents have daughters? And not sons? It's always "the President's daughter." Never "the President's son." I have a feeling that becoming President pretty much nixes any chance of you having a son nowadays. Historically, more Presidents have had sons (28 of 44) - but of the last ten (including Obama), five have had sons (Kennedy, Ford, Carter, Reagan, and H.W. Bush).

Shit. That took a lot of research. Much respect to Bovice for letting me know what was good.

Stay classy

If You Love it so Much, Why Won't You Eat it?

2009-08-08T21:52:00.003-04:00

Hey there readership. Today I was at a pool party with some homeslices and a certain conversation occurred. Lemme break it down for ya how it happened. The context is macaroni salad.

Homeslice A: "Eww are those olives on my plate? I hate olives...."
Homeslice B: "I love olives."
Homeslice A: "You want mine?"
Homeslice B: "Nope."

What the hell, Homeslice B? If you love olives so damn much, why won't you eat them? They're free! They're right there! They're not poisoned or dirty! So what the hell?

I mean, it's obvious that Homeslice A doesn't want the damn olives and is trying to foist the olives off on someone else, and since you SAID that you LOVE olives so damn much, you've basically done the equivalent of saying "well if you don't want them, I'll eat them," which is understood by Homeslice A and everyone else present - EXCEPT FOR YOU, APPARENTLY.

Bottom line: if you weren't gonna eat the damn olives, why the hell did you even say anything to begin with?

Sheesh.

Stay classy

A Pokemon Observation (You Knew it was Coming Eventually)

2009-08-06T03:24:00.005-04:00

Hey there readership. As I crafted myself a most glorious sammich, I realized something about Pokemon.

While I'll concede the fact that the element/type battle advantage/disadvantage system was legit in the video game, practically, it doesn't work. Examples? Oh, I know you too well. Check it out.

Charizard vs. Staryu. Staryu's got the type advantage (Water beats Fire), but seriously, how the hell does that little piece of shit beat a freakin' Charizard? I mean, I know size isn't everything (unless you're a porn star), but come on. Charizard can freakin' FLY, he'll dodge your water shots and burn your shit up. WINNER: Charizard

The worst one though? Onix vs. ANYTHING. How the hell do you beat a 28-foot-long FUCKING ROCK SNAKE?

You don't.

And you DEFINITELY don't with some fuckin' tiny blue turtle or some retarded dog with a blossom on its back. That's for DAMN sure.

Yeah. I think about this kinda shit. What of it?

Stay classy

Let's Press Pause on the Land Before Time

2009-08-04T01:43:00.004-04:00

Hey readership. I was just now (actually like two seconds ago) having a discussion with my colleague co-professor Maeron aka The Purp, and we hit upon something.

The Land Before Time (like Kidz Bop) has spawned far more sequels than people a) want, b) need, and c) give a flying monkeyshit about.

Now according to IMDB, there are at least 13 "The Land Before Time" movies in the continuity of the original (even if the original creators stopped after the first one was finished - wisely, I might add), with a few "Sing-A-Long" spinoffs (yuck). They just keep making these freakin' things! I mean, the first one came out in 1988, so by the time I was born and intelligent enough to know what I was watching there were three already. But get this: from 1994-2004, there was at least one "The Land Before Time" sequel put out PER YEAR. Then they took a two-year break (probably to try and salvage any bit of their souls that they had left), and then put out two more in two years, to bring the grand total up to thirteen.

My theory? They're trying to make enough "The Land Before" time sequels to have one for each year that's passed since the dinosaurs died out.

Only 69,999,987 movies left. Give or take.

Stay classy

I'm Glad We're All Still Afraid of Cooties....

2009-07-31T23:22:00.004-04:00

Hey readership. I realized that this month I've tied my record for most bitchings - er, posts, in a month (I did 14 in February of this year as well . . . funnily enough, the most posts in the month with the least amount of days haha), and I wanted to break that record.

BUT. I had no idea what to write about!

Enter the amazingly clever R 'n R with a winner. Here it is suckas.

You ever notice that in public places where sitting is supposed to happen (such as subways, buses, park benches, and waiting rooms), that people just do NOT want to sit next to other people? There's always that minimum one-seat gap between people. On the VERY RARE occasion that people DO sit next to someone that's a stranger, as soon as a seat not directly next to somebody opens up, they're on it like late '90s Whitney Houston was on crack (I still blame Bobby Brown). But for the majority, most people would rather stand than sit down next to somebody that they don't know.

What the hell? I mean, there are really only three situations that I can think of where you would want a one-seat space between you and someone else. One is when the person that you're thinking of sitting down next to is visibly ill. Sniffling, sneezing, coughing, blowing of the nose, etc. are all signs of me not sitting next to you (or anywhere near you, if at all possible). Another is if the person you're thinking of sitting next to is MORBIDLY OBESE. Because that usually leads to the person taking up at least 40% of the seat you're thinking of sitting in, in addition to 100% of the seat that the majority of their girth is situated on, and 40% of the seat on the other side of them. I mean I'm not fat, but I still need 100% of my seat on the bus/subway to be comfortable. The last situation is for men only. It's Man Law that when at the urinal, you MUST have at least one urinal between you and the closest man on either side of you. This means that at a five-man urinal, at most three urinals can be in use at any one time. That is Man Law. So you can't break it.

But barring those three situations, what the fuck. I mean if we were still in like second grade I'd say "well you never know if they got their cootie shot. Circle-circle-dot-dot is too complicated for some people." And yes I would say that in second grade, because I was just as sarcastic of a person then as I am now.

But that's second grade. There's no excuse for that shit now.

Man the hell up and take a seat.

RECORD IS BROKEN BITCHES.

Stay classy

Simba was an Asshole

2009-07-29T09:01:00.004-04:00

''I just can't wait to be king''? So you just can't wait for your
father Mufasa to die prematurely due to stampeding wildabeast and your douchebag of an uncle?

Oh wait . . .

Fuckin' prick!

Stay classy

ADDENDUM:
Now, I know that Simba a) couldn't have possibly known that this shit was gonna happen to Mufasa and b) wouldn't have WANTED it to happen if he'd had a choice, so hyperbole and assholery aside, "I just can't wait to be king" basically says "I just can't wait for my dad NOT to be king so I CAN be king," and since the only way for Mufasa NOT to be king is for him to die, I'm extrapolating that Simba saying "I just can't wait to be king" is almost synonymous with "I just can't wait for my dad to die."

Thanks to Thirston for bringing it to my attention that some clarification was in order.

Stay classy (again)

Newton Ain't Discover SHIT

2009-07-28T12:02:00.006-04:00

Hey there readership. I was fitfully tossing and turning last night because, due to a random spat of back spasms (and a general propensity for insomnia), I couldn't sleep. That's when something occurred to me. We all know that Sir Isaac Newton is the man credited with "discovering" gravity. But did he really?

Fuck no he didn't! How absurd is that? One man, discovering gravity? That's like one man trying to take credit for discovering air! If somebody that I knew told me that they'd discovered air (and I was kinda in the old days and whatnot), I'd be like "you mean the stuff we've been breathing since birth?" and he'd be like "yeah that's - " but he wouldn't be able to finish his sentence cuz I'd beat him with a stick mid-speech!

There's no way on God's green Earth that Sir Isaac Newton discovered gravity. Proof? Oh I got that. Drop a beat and lemme spit it to ya.

Gravity, as we all know, is a principle that powers many things. For example, the execution methods of hanging and beheading by way of guillotine (not to be morbid haha). Both rely heavily on the principle and implementation of gravity.

Now, Sir Isaac Newton "discovered" gravity circa 1666 AD. However, one of the earliest appearances of a gallows is in the Bible in Esther 5:14:

"[Haman's] wife Zeresh and all his friends said to him, "Have a gallows built, seventy-five feet high..."

The Book of Esther is a part of the Old Testament, and scholars believe that it was written circa the third or fourth century BC - meaning that they'd "discovered" gravity (and it's death-dealing ability) nearly two thousand years before Newton's apple bonked him on the noggin.

Whew. I guess that Intro to the Bible Theology course last year actually came in handy after all.

Anyway.

Remember the guillotine? The name "guillotine" came about during the French Revolution, but the machine that received the name had been around in some form since at least 1286 AD with the English Halifax Gibbet, which predates Newton's "discovery" by almost four hundred years.

And let's not forget other, non-deadly uses for gravity, such as irrigation. In Ancient Persia, aqueducts and water drainage systems utilized the principle of gravity almost entirely to facilitate drainage and irrigation. Ancient Persia went through several empires from 728 BC-226 AD (the last one started in 250 BC). Even the fall of the last Persian empire predated Newton's "discovery" by 14 hundred years, and the beginning of the first predated it by over 22 hundred years.

So fuck you Newton. You ain't discover gravity ya li'l bitch.

Stay classy

Thuggenomics 1000C Intro

2009-07-26T00:27:00.008-04:00

Hey readership. What with the state of the economy and all that ungangsta shit, one of my associates Maeron aka The Purp and I decided to bring an alternative method of makin' it rain to your attention. This method has been time-tested by those such as the Notorious B.I.G., 50 Cent, and MC Hammer (for a little while, anyway).

I'm talking, of course, of the well-known but seldom-practiced accounting system known as Thuggenomics. Professor Purp and I (Professor Wolfman) will be teaching an introductory course in the study and application of Thuggenomics. Since Professor Purp's whereabouts during the school year are still in question at this time (she may be too much of a G to only have one address... respect), we will be offering this course in online installments of Thuggenomics wisdom and hustlin'-related homework assignments.

To start off, a list of suggested reference materials:
1. "Ten Crack Commandments" by the Notorious B.I.G.
2. "How to be a Professional Con Artist" by Dennis M. Marlock
3. "How to Cheat at Everything" by Simon Lovell
4. This instructional video which shows you exactly how NOT to be gangsta (tricky bastards purposefully tried to mislead you).

That's good to start. These materials will put you well on your way to mastering the subtle art and exact science that is Thuggenomics. Study them carefully, hustlas-in-training.

And whatever you do.

Stay classy

And God Himself Seems to Respond....

2009-07-24T00:50:00.003-04:00

Okay, so as soon as I posted that last blog post about two seconds ago, I got a HUGE ad on the side that linked to this.

Good lookin' out, Big Guy.

Stay classy

I've Come to Realize....

2009-07-24T00:34:00.002-04:00

. . .that after shit like this and this, not to mention all the "Black Jesus" references I've made through these past eleven months (holy shit it's almost been a year! time flies when you're making yourself seem like an asshole!), basically, if God doesn't have an amazingly blasphemous sense of humor, I'm pretty much fucked.

Hope you're laughin' up there, Big Guy.

And as for you, readership, I hope you only do one thing.

Stay classy

The Single Biggest Conversational Mistake You Can Make

2009-07-20T23:48:00.003-04:00

Readership, this is something I've known for years. However, it took a conversation with R 'n R to make me realize it.

The single biggest conversational mistake you can make - is to ask someone what they do for a living.

Through my metaphysical third eye I can see all of you nodding your heads. You've obviously been there.

"So what do you do for a living?"
"Well . . . basically" - because that's always how this shit starts, as they're trying to dig for extra shit to say to make their job sound important - "basically, I'm a refuse collection technician. What I do is, in the morning, I get into my uniform and I board the RCT - Refuse Collection Technician - vehicle and we drive around the city at specific days and times, using specifically calculated routes, and perform our RCT duties. It's pretty cushy, I get paid pretty well and the work is usually done by noon, so I get the rest of the day to myself."
Do you know what the non-dickhead name for the job I just described was?

A fucking garbage man.

That's a fictional example, but here's a real one. I visited some family in Florida for my cousin Cisco's "welcome back from Iraq/birthday" party. One of my cousins works for the people who do those "As Seen on TV" things. He's the guy who puts the orders in.

That's his job. He's the guy who puts the orders in. If you'll notice, I described the ENTIRETY of his job in an eight-word sentence.

He LITERALLY spent a good 45 minutes to an hour explaining his job to me. Meanwhile I'm nodding and going "yeah, yeah I hear you" and shit, just thinking "Jesus bro, shut the hell up I'm trying to play fuckin' Slime Volleyball over here..."

BIGGEST CONVERSATIONAL MISTAKE.

Remember that.

And please, if you remember nothing else, remember this.

Stay classy

You Paid HOW much for that Quarter?

2009-07-20T21:07:00.005-04:00

Hey there readership. Today, my dad got the elusive final quarter in that 50 States quarter thing that the US Mint started a few years back, which gave each state a quarter with its name, motto, date of admission into the Union, and a picture on the tails side (standard George Washington on the heads side). Basically, my dad's got this huge folding cardboard map of the United States with fifty quarter-sized holes in it in each of the states. Whenever the US Mint came out with the next state quarter in the series, he'd try to get one and put it in this map. And now, with the elusive Hawaii finally in his possession, the collection is complete. Now, he thinks it's worth something.

If it is, that's fucking sad.

I mean, coins can definitely have sentimental value - I even have a couple half-dollars that were given to me by a close family friend before she passed away. I can even KINDA see coins having some kind of monetary value, like Buffalo Head nickles or pennies or whatever the fuck had the buffalo head on it, and like shit from the Civil War and all that.

But a quarter? Seriously? My dad was telling me - in all seriousness - that people were trading for these quarters and shit starting at $1.25 EACH. A quick bit of mental math will tell you that each quarter is "valued" at 500% of its actual circulation value.

What the fuuuuuuck?

I mean, like I said, super old coins are one thing - hell, I'd probably pay a little bit of money to have the coin that Andrew Jackson wore around his neck, assuming he had one, which is a bad assumption, as he hated the National Bank and fucked its charter in the butt repeatedly, but then again that would make such a coin even more valuable and badass - if it exists.

But I digress.

The day that I'm buying a quarter for anything more than twenty-five cents is the day that I get beaten with a stick until near dead. And then buried under a mountain of "valuable" quarters. Dammit, I feel stupid even saying that. "Valuable quarters." What the hell.

If I catch someone paying more than the face value for a coin that isn't older than their grandfather I'm kickin' their ass on pure principle!

You have been warned.

Bitches.

Stay classy