Stupid things that make me crazy because they're stupid.

1-Having someone pull out right in front of me while driving... when there is not a car in sight behind mine.

Really? .....REAL-LY????
If you engage in this sort of numbskullery, kindly drive off a cliff into a pool of
hot diarrhea.

2-"Sexy" 80's saxophone

Often heard when some "babe" and some "hunk" are about to "make love" with half of their clothes on in some stupid-ass movie. YECCHH.

3-Ellen Degeneres.

Isn't she just the zaniest? Everyone put on your laughing hats!! I can only imagine what she's "prying open" while mugging for the camera like that. Portia Di Rossi's asscheeks, perhaps? Yes?

4-An awkward comment about the weather after minutes of blissful silence.


Why yes, it is indeed cold out here. It is also warm in places where the weather is currently warm. One can only assume that where it is raining, there is water on the ground. Go screw, weirdo.

5-The "their, there, they're" sort of spelling mistakes.

This probably drives everyone crazy, except for people like Wes hear.
I mean here... sorry.

6-Food products that make it seem like they're talkin' to ya! Just ya!

Ya know, whether you're gettin' ready for a walk in the ol' great outdoors, packin' for your hike, or findin' that perfect spot to bury yer dead hooker, Lay's brand potato chips gives ya that extra deeee-lish burst of energy, all the while takin' your mind off all that draggin' and diggin'! Lay's brand potato chips- takin' care of you while you take care of yours!
GO FUCK YOURSELF!!!!!!!

7-Country music.

Ok, we get it, you're proud of being ignorant, ugly and probably retarded.
Got it.
I wish country would crawl back underneath the rotted log it came from.

8-Excessive perfume/cologne.

What are you covering up? I mean that both physically and emotionally.
You stink, and I don't like you.

9-Post Beatles Paul McCartney.

John Lennon was gunned down by a fat loser, George Harrison died of brain cancer, yet this dummy is still around. WHY??

10-Intelligence-insulting media.



Just the tip.

BONUS:
11-These people.

Just kidding!

Color commentary part II: bad album covers

Nicely put, Captain Picard. Commence awkwardness.






As uncomfortable as this is to look at and think about, they mercifully placed the camera OUTSIDE of the toilet. This could have been a lot worse. Just sayin'.



Ok. Not only is the photo just awful, I just get a really bad vibe from the title. I don't really want to talk about it.



That girl's got a great smile.. especially when you take into consideration that there are four serial killers standing behind her, and one has an ax.



Also, I'm God's matching sweater-vest.


..I poisoned it and had it taxidermied for a terrible album cover. What else you got?



Four reasons to ditch choir practice.



I'M COLONEL SANDERS, BITCHES... I'LL DO WHAT I WANT!



Yup... that's how it goes when you enjoy murdering people. It just looks like he's saying some sick fuck things at the grave of one of his victims.



Ever seen a ventriloquist dummy stone someone to death? Me neither. Something tells me we missed out, bigtime.



If I may make this one more gross than it already is, those bitchin' shades had to hurt on the way out.


Arnold is widely considered to be Wolf's "album for the diehards". Great. Thanks.



The "stuffparty" happens whether you buy the album or not.



No snappy comments here. Just pointing out that it exists.



An epically homoerotic album cover? Why not, sayeth Manowar?



Nice title. Really, what else could you call it? It is what it is.



Available for free download at www.thisiswhyyourefat.com



Clearly, "eilerts jul" is Dutch for "you gonna get raped"



Um... insert John Wayne Gacy joke..... awwww, too soon?



Why, yes, I did save the best for last!! I mean, just look at the smile on that pig's face.
Shocking and disgusting: you're doing it right.

Ok, that's about it.

Personal ball-washers

I guess the purpose here is to get things off my mind, and one of them happens to the asskissers of the world. I know this is an easy topic, but pretty much no one is exempt from dealing with these walking, talking piles of clothing, myself included.



Yes man, asskisser, brownnoser, personal ballwasher, suckup, all of these names are for the same person; the spineless twerp who knows they have no say in what happens, so it's best to stick to those who do, rather than actually contribute anything. Like a fucking lamprey with it's filthy circular sucker-mouth latched onto a big fish that depends on little fish to keep it alive. (marine biology reference, CHECK)



Actually, let me take part of that back.. often times, said corporate cocksucker DOES have a say in what goes on, but I've found that it's small time. Little things, like flowers out front. Pointless meetings. Emphasis on things that do not matter. Fucking christmas decorations. I feel like I'm narrating the beginning of Trainspotting here.



The two fucking useless sacs of human void I'm refering to, are of course, the two people who "run" where I work. They are fucking liars in every aspect of their pathetic lives. No one likes them. Outside of work, they are flaccid, piss-poor excuses for even a passing score at having a reason to be alive. At work, they are even more pointless wastes of oxygen. They waste time, do nothing, except keep a nice, warm, moist home for the owners' old crooked dicks.



How can one, without being the owner, make more money doing nothing and generally getting in the way than the people who actually run the place, and make things happen? This whole setup infuriates me in a way I can't describe. I should probably throw in the fact that I unintentionally made one of them cry once. Like, weep uncontrollably. Picture a grown man, crying at his stupid desk because one of his employees just called him out and threatened to quit. What a fat bitch. Seriously, just fucking die already, whale tits.



Oh, and stringbean can fucking choke on the spikey, shit-smeared cock of death, too.

Textbook fucking human leech. I hope you outlive your family, then blow your fucking original thought-less head off your scrawny, unused body.



Helpful Checklist:

1-Do your fucking job. If you don't, those that you work with are affected. Clearly, hatred will follow. And sooner or later, you're going to piss off the wrong person. (I didn't mean that as a threat, just to clarify.. I am not that "wrong person")

2-If you are called out, in any form, for any situation, you are probably doing something wrong, Correct it. Don't cry your little eyes out, then do the same thing. Asshole.

3-Be active. Be aware of what is going on. Don't be clueless.

4-Go fuck yourself.



To mop things up, I'd like to say I don't hate my job. I have a lot of fun there, actually, it's just certain people that work there that are as useful as a teaspoon exhuming a mass grave.



...it's just not going to get the job done.

the w-bomb

How about wiggers? Dudes (or chicks, occasionally) that happen to be white, but also happen to emulate black people? The music, the culture, the background, the day-to-day life of American black people, so we're told? Really? Let's start with the music.

There is rap... and some of it is good. Like, really good. Then there's the bad stuff.. and it's really bad. No need to give examples, because it's so god-awful in every way that you have to know what I'm talking about. The "I got mad money for no reason" shit.

Here's where the fudging of the facts start. The "music" is where it starts, I think.

There is the "thug life". Selling drugs, killing people, acting like an animal because you have to to survive. It happens. I get it.

There is the image. Huge shirts, sagging jeans, never smiling in pictures, doing things with your hands that may/may not be gang signs.. do they still make gangs? Anyways..

Then there's the speech. Multiple southern dialects smacked into one, embraced, unfortunately, by many.

That said, I would like to say my wish is not to offend anyone. Unless you find offensive funny, then that is my intention. Take your pick! This is not a blanket of hate on black people. This is a blanket of hate on the ignorance that certain people choose to embrace.

You are in control of your life, you can make your choices as you see fit, regardless of things like your upbringing, the friends you had, people that pissed you off, any hard times you may have come across. You are in control, and you don't have to act like a piece of shit.

And I say piece of shit meaning anyone who has not been through much other than having shheads for parents. If you're "all growed up" with an alcoholic dad, deal with it. If your mom brought boyfriends home, grow a pair. There's no need to blame your parents for the way you are. It's called making choices about who you'd like to be. Not acting like a fucking shithead that expects things handed to you.

Ok. That said- if you're a wigger, I fucking hate your guts. Way to fail at life. You took what was given to you FAILED. Have fun smoking blunts, fucking fat chicks, sucking at life, sucking at easy jobs, and bringing more of YOU, an ignorant, hand-out wanting, lazy sack of worthless, yet neverending supply of garbage like you. Keep fucking. Keep making more cabbages. There are dishes to wash.

Color commentary

Ok. I mercifully did not write this. Someone I know had this sent to her in a random email.
I am simply going to make jokes as it goes. Think Mystery Science Theater 3000.

His words are in normal font, mine are in bold red. Don't confuse. Please.




My Dear,The possible connection we share in our mutual enjoyment of self pleasuring could be sharpened to such a fine edge when we share our erotic energies in a concerted effort towards intensifying the explosiveness of our inevitable release. Ok, anyone have douche chills yet?I certainly do. The visual and tactile enticements that our two bodies and minds will rend for each other will begin to strip away the haze of our lust until like a laser we are focused, without any misconceptions, on the startling clarity of our orgasms. Lasers and orgasms. Great comparison. Top notch. Clear and unmistakable, we commit to our releases for those shinning moments, knowing that our spark is the tip of the flame of lifetime devotion to our passion and that the intensity could be heightened to unknowable levels when we empower each other.Consider thisA luxurious evening spent enjoying a fine meal, good wine and the sultry anticipation of our private passion to come. I have access to information that this guy most likely lives with his mother. At age 47, mind you. We revel in each others beauty and energy and fan our flame with words and movements that tease our already lust filled minds. Our desires to demonstrate our passion is matched only by each others desire to witness it and to reciprocate in total lock step. Lock step? You've tried and failed at being "poetic" but that just makes no sense. That energy carries us to your home. You disappear into the bedroom to slip into something more revealing, as I prepare our nest for the scene of our ultimate release. Watch how many times he uses the word "nest". On the floor, in front of the mirrors, I place a large towel and plenty of pillows for you to recline on. Beside our nest I place some love oil (or giant eagle canola) and some wine and a pile of towels. The lights are set to a warm sultry glow, and the piano light set to highlight the nest, perfect for watching each other so that no detail of our explorations could be missed by the other.When you emerge from the bedroom, I can feel the burning intensity of your fire and can see immediately in your eyes the embers of your passion blazing just beneath the surface of your sexy, sultry countenance. Countenance? What fucking century is this? As you inspect our nest I begin to undress. You pause and watch me and I entice you as best I can as I disrobe until I am standing naked in front of you. With practiced ease, I brush my hands across my penis and explore my testicles while you gaze intently at me. Ok, by "practiced ease" I take it that means he masturbates. A lot. Not uncommon, and definately nothingi to brag about. As my manipulation begins to entice you, you step towards me with your hands outstretched. Lovingly, I place my cock in your hands and together we delicately explore my heated shaft. You coo and I moan at our delicious meanderings on my sex. Do ya? Looking up at me our faces brush and I can feel the heat of your breath escaping from your beautiful lips. Our tongues explore those lips which lips, again? with light erotic strokes that send quivers through your spine. I reach for your shoulders and spin you around away from me and towards the mirror dropping your robe at our feet to reveal your torso and your breasts. And, ya know... everything else. Unless he's seducing an amputee. Pressing up against you we feel my throbbing penis on your back as I reach around you and brush your nipples with my fingers. Immediately they respond. As do you with a sigh. My continued exploration of your nipples they're really not that big elicits the movement of your hands inextricably which means impossible to break free of, so how does the following happen again? to your vagina as you begin to explore your wetness for us. Passionately I disrobe you from your panties causing you to spread your legs after they are removed. From behind I begin to explore your vagina for myself. Together we delve into your sex "sex" is keyword for genitals apparently, being that he called his weenie his "sex" earlier, our focus beaming on your divine wetness, your fingers and nails which are attached to fingers, and actually might hurt a bit dancing on your clitoris and my fingers exploring your depths. Your legs spread more and your knees become athletically bent in your effort to concentrate on the intensity of feelings from between your legs. Looking at us in the mirror the image of our abandon and our approach to your orgasm is succulent. On that edge we stop with you quivering on the edge of cascading into a ringing orgasm! The incredible tension in your muscles relaxes as you exhale a passionate deep breath. I step from behind you to reveal my hugely engorged erection, itself quivering to the excitement we both feel. How intoxicating it is to know that we are both so excited that the slightest provocation would send us reeling into an explosion of orgasmic energy. Indeed. Yet we yearn to tighten the tension in the knot of our passions to an ever more powerful potential that when finally released will reward ourselves with a scene of such awesome proportions we will revel in it for days to come and use it as a reference point from which to build. Just to clarify, we are talking about sex still, right? With nowhere to go but up or two thumbs down, yuk yuk, I pull you down onto the pillows. When properly ensconced in them you are reclining and facing the mirror easily allowing you to view yourself both in the mirror and directly. Together we spread your creamy thighs was "creamy thighs" really necessary? and begin to explore your gorgeous vagina. The intoxicating wetness of your lips is revealed as you spread your labia and expose the crisp taughtness of your clitoris.Time out. There is nothinging "crisp" about a clitoris. Seriously? Entranced I move back onto my heels, kneeling directly to your side, we begin to administer expertly to the demands of our libidos.The exhibition of our engorged passions is twisting the knot ever tighter. The utter beauty of our questing for the intensity of this greater plateau together is amazing. Is it, ya fuckin cheeseball? With both my hands(?) I gently caress the shaft of my penis languishing in the pure pleasure it brings. I turn and move closer to your head extending my shaft out before you, the head of my cock just inches away from your sexy face. Together we gaze in the mirror at the incredible erotic image we make. My hardness and your wetness entwine and pull us inexorably towards the wondrous final destination we seek.Luxuriantly we wander through the visual and tactile pleasures we so ardently exhibit for each other. This could be the corniest sentence ever written, no joke. No sounds are heard but for our quiet sighs and gasps and the sound of fingers and hands ministering to the incredible self pleasuring we are displaying. Cradling my testicles, they are high and tight in their sack, filled to the brim with the seed you have stimulated to gather within. Yuck, yuck, and yechh...I caress them for you and tease them for you and taunt you with the power of the expulsion we will witness together. I stand and move above you at your head and face the mirror. Your position allows you to gaze up my powerful erection rapist much? above and to gaze at the mirror to at once see yourself and me stroking above you. My view allows me to gaze past my engorged cock to your sultry face below and to view in the mirror your unbridled lustful fingerings of your labia and clitoris. The incredible heat of your vagina shines in the dark red and fiery lips of your vagina as we are now hurtling without recourse to our eruptions.My knees bend slightly as I feel the oncoming rush of my orgasm approaching. I offer to you, "I cannot hold back any longer. I'm going to cum." ...on the high school letterman jacket Mother embroidered "football" on for me when I was 30.With that your pace quickens on your clitoris, my knees bend slightly more as every fiber of my being is centered on my throbbing cock and the vision of you before me. Then it happens. Like time standing still the convulsion and contractions of my loins over take me. Time can't stand still. And you're jerking yourself off. I'm just sayin'. I am paralyzed by the sheer magnitude of the pleasure. The eruption of my semen begins sending wave after wave of huge gulps of cum exploding from the end of my cock. Stream after stream erupts so powerfully they splash against the mirror at your feet. Everything seems as if it is slow motion.Looking past my exploding penis my eyes absorb your sexy face as your own convulsions over take you. Writhing beneath your fingers and under the hail of my river of lust, you cum. If you're creeped out and ya know it, raise you're hands...Straining against your fingers your vagina explodes into the ecstasy of pure release we have sought so long together. With my cum raining down upon you the intensity of your orgasm is astonishing and the lustful contortions you exhibit as you cum are ambrosia too me, enticing me to shoot more cum than I could ever imagine, but this is the hold you have on me and I give it too you with every abandon I can muster. Hey, thanks! Just what I wanted... raining cum. Don't eat the ambrosia. As we begin to emerge from the torrents of our pleasure and the last delicious peaks of our orgasms pass and we shudder into the last glorious emissions the sight before us is awesome. Below me you glisten and glow in the unbelievable capacity of my seed and the sweat of your magnificent attentions to your gorgeous vagina.Slowly I sink to my knees, my still hard shaft cradled in my hand (shocking) and presented loving for you to adore, I am still spasming in the last throws of pleasure from our incredible tryst. My whole body throbs with the power of the events we have shared and the intensity of our pleasures lingers in every delicate stroke of my hands on my cock. Slowly I release my hands from my center and begin to caress your face stroking your flushed cheeks as your heavy sighs decry the enormity of your satisfaction. Over and over again you smile and cringe finally, a realistic reaction as you too are still caught in the delicious ending throws of your incredible orgasm.Slowly I begin to towel you off, gently absorbing the fruit of my loins I have so prolifically painted you with. You are absolutely glowing. Your sensitivity is so high you can barley (which is a grass) withstand the light touch of the towel on your skin. You are remarkable in this and I adore you for it.Cradling you against my chest we open the wine a sip the delicious nectar letting ourselves be absorbed into its taste and languish in the incredible after glow of our sublime activities. I am languishing reading this. Lingering on the edge of sleep for sometime and sharing simple caresses, it is time for me to go. I rise and dress quickly but offer you impassioned gazes at my penis and testicles which I so enjoy. What? Ew. What the fuck?Giving you a peck on the cheek I disappear out your door leaving us to the musings of our night ahead and the rich and restful slumber which will surely embrace us when we lay our heads on the pillow. The dreams we dream this night shall be on the incredible passion that were and the prospect of fulfilling even more prolific passions in the future.bye,bye sweet regards,Nik


... Oooo-kaaaayy....
Through the person I was sent this by, I have seen this guy's pictures. He's 47 years old, has a dating website profile, looks like a fucking kid toucher, and "takes care of" his 75 year old mother. Which he probably lives with. Say hi to mom for us, soul mate.

Stop, drop, and be nice!!!!

Ned Flanders called, he wants his blog back.
Time to get nice.
This is about a book called "The light of other days" by Arthur C. Clark and Stephen Baxter.
I have read many books (as people tend to do) and this just might be the best one I've come across. Ok, I can't choose the best. I'll narrow it down to five later.

In any case, this particular one deals with being of a single mind, literally. Call me a hippie or even a communist, but that sounds like a good idea.
In the story, "wormholes" are discovered.

It starts simple, like the telephone, one voice being heard through a medium that at the time seemed impossible, and grew into a technology that revolutionized the way people live. Sound familiar? Basically, a way to develope "rips" in space and time was developed, and it progressed, over years, into the death of privacy. Any person could view any location, any person, at any date, undetected. Historical mysteries were solved. Unsolved crimes were solved. No one in all of history was safe from the unblinking eyes of everyone else.

Naturally people adapted to this and started behaving as if there was no one watching. Crimes of all kind stopped. People had sex on park benches in the middle of the day with people everywhere. I'd say "sound familiar" again, but then I'd have to punch myself in the face.

In the beginning, this happen via computers. In the later stages of it, people were having it implanted in their eyes, so that whatever one sees, everyone sees. Everyone sees everything, everyone knows what everyone else knows, people are able to act immediately if a threat is detected by even one, like a flock of birds. (There is a part in the book where they do just that)

I guess I am saying that I hope evolution takes this kind of turn. I've heard that humans are exponentially evolving, and that we'll begin to see drastic changes in our lifetime, and I hope this is the case. It's already a very different world than it was ten years ago.

5 favorite books, in no order:
dune by frank herbert
the stand by stephen king
invisible monsters by chuck palahniuk
the gods themselves by isaac asimov
the light of other days by arthur c. clark and stephen baxter
I'll end this silly piece of echh with one word:
OBAMA!

One of the funniest things I have ever seen.

Ok, so the Beeze and I...checkity check him out at http://thebeezestalesfromthefishhouse.blogspot.com/ if you haven't already.
We both work at "The Fish House", and one day, got to talking, as we often do, about what would be really funny/disturbing/wrong/cheesey/awesome. So, we came to the conclusion that Beezey-pie coming out of the breakroom in full uniform, minus pants would be hysterical. (and believe me, it was.)
So, one cold saturday morning, I finally convince him to do it (this took a whole lot of arm-twisting) and he comes out, just like I described before, full of piss and vinegar, spitting corny "motivation" on the prep cooks, while throwing an apron on. The prep cooks that day consisted of an old guy who got a purple heart in vietnam, and a retard with multiple college degrees. Old guy just laughs (he's used to this shit, as most of us are) and the tard/genius gets beet red and says "I think you forgot something"...
I was behind Beeze wheezing from laughter the whole time.
There are times I wish I didn't work there, but then, look at what (and who) I'd have been missing out on if I didn't.