Archive | June, 2011

Cyclists – Get the F*** Outta the Road!

28 Jun

Now, if you run out of smokes, and send your kid pedaling to the corner store for a pack of Kools, I’ve got no problem with that.  If you’re on your Huffy riding to 7-11 to rent Beaches staring Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey, I’ve got no problem with that either.  (Other than your taste in films).   If you’re trying to evade a pursuing rapist…Again, I have no problems with this.  As Tony Danza’s bicep proudly proclaims “Keep on Truckin'”

What I do have a problem with is the pimple on the ass of America’s roads and highways; The Cyclist (which sort of sounds like a possible name for a future Kevin Costner film).   I’m speaking of the guy with the little saddlebags on his wheel hubs.  The guy with sixteen water bottles attached to his bike frame.  The man clearly wearing a boys-sized shirt, spandex pants, and a funny pointy helmet.  You my friend, are a pain in my ass and couldn’t carry Lance Armstrong’s jock on a good day.

Everywhere else in nature, mammals know the rule of  “Get the fuck out of the way, or get run over.”  Fish swim away from boats.  Birds fly away from planes.  Deer, which are stupid, get caught in the headlights and you’ve seen what happens to them.

However, knowing these natural laws, makes no difference to the cyclist prick.  He sits idly in front of my car waiting for the light to turn green while I ponder how I can run him over and get away with it.  I would, if I could.  I’m seething as I look at empty sidewalks and open road in front of you, waiting for your sorry ass to go from zero to thirty in 12 blocks.  You… are not… a car!  Get the fuck out of the way!  Beep!  Beep!

You can’t find another way to exercise?  Bicycling on city streets while you piss off one driver after another is the only way you can work up a good calorie burn?  Riding on the sidewalk doesn’t let you fly your I’m-a-Dickhead flag high enough?  Honestly?  Cycle or die, huh?

I understand folks like to get outdoors for recreation time.  In the mountains I see people camping, rafting, kayaking, mountain biking, motorcycling, hiking, and enjoying outdoor intercourse.  However, there’s one thing that separates these naturalists from cyclists.  They’re all smiling.  (The guy getting the hummer is really smiling.)  The cyclist is huffing and puffing, dripping sweat, vein in his forehead pulsating like it’s about to explode;  disgusting.

Why can’t you jerkoffs just drive and do a few jumping jacks when you get there…. I don’t get it.


Weeping for the future….

25 Jun

The  sun has been up a few hours this morning and I head to Safeway with my boy to pick up some food for our Boy Scout outing this weekend.  While walking through the parking lot I spy a boy/man sitting on a bench enjoying his breakfast of a Reese Peanut Butter cup, Red Bull, and a Marlboro.  I ask him if his mother would approve.  He makes a noise that sort of resembles an uncomfortable laugh and we walk on by.  I weep for the future.  I’m sure he’s flipping me off as we disappear into the store.

Once inside I explain to my boy we need english muffins and mini cereal boxes for our share of his patrol’s food and invite him to lead the way.  Surprisingly he charges off and puzzles me as he takes a left turn down the frozen food aisle and proudly stops at the case.  “What the fuck is this?” I ask him.  He proudly points to the sign clearly reading “breakfast” above my head.  I weep for the future.  He’s a dipshit, but I kind of understand why he came down the aisle now.  I gently explain to him that he’s an idiot, but it’s not his fault because he takes after his mother.   I tell him that bread products are generally with the bread.  I don’t shop so I’m not sure how I know this, but I am able to guide him safely to the bakery none-the-less.  The muffins stand before us in all their glory and I explain to him things about pricing, flavors, etc.  He’s buying for 10 kids.  He immediately bypasses the obvious packs of 10-muffins I was guiding him to pick up and instead picks up the 6 pack of muffins for twice the price of the 10-pack.  A nice lady is standing by and she overhears what I’m saying to him and jumps into our conversation.  I’m pretty sure it’s just because she wants to bang me so I let her have her fun.  She points out a 10-pack that costs half as much as his 6-pack.  He nods, smiles, does the customary 12-year-old “Uh-huh, uh-huh.”  Now I ask him “Which one do you want?”  He picks up the same $4 six-pack of muffins.  I weep for the future.  I correct him and we grab the 10-pack and make our way to the cereal isle.

Once we locate it, he’s quickly able to decide that the only package of cereal mini packages they carry is the right one to buy.  I’m not weeping this time, but I’m not real impressed either.

We pay and walk out.  The same boy/man who forgot everything his mother told him about the importance of a healthy breakfast gives me a nod and tells us to have a nice day.  What a sweet kid.  Maybe I shouldn’t judge so quickly and think this kid might be ok.  A few more steps out of this boy/mans earshot range, my kid lets a gigantic fart that sets off car alarms.  He breaks into a maniacal laugh.  As I bust up with him, I continue weeping for the future on the inside….

All kids are idiots.

The Zoo – Life in the office: The Cat Lady

21 Jun

Your guide to the fascinating world of the cubicle savanna and the creatures therein…

The Cat Lady

Scientific Name:  Gonna  Livealoneus.

Physical Characteristics:  Almost exclusively female, males do exist.  Size usually related to age.  Older Cat Lady’s generally are plumper than the younger ones.  Commonly wears costume jewelry, shitaceous sweaters, and comfortable shoes.  Generally slow movers with bad backs due to continual litter box cleaning.  Overzealous application of Avon perfume.  Can smell like urine, but not common.  Glasses.

Habitat:  Lives in an unpretentious cubicle easily identifiable by cat photos completely covering every inch of available wall surface.  There are no photos of humans anywhere to be found in Cat Lady’s den.  (One exception is Cat Lady may have a small framed photo of its mother).  May have a dish of fragrant potpourri.  Cheap hand lotion.  Pencils scattered with chewed erasers.  If your office supply closet is out of thumb tacks, there is commonly a den nearby.

Behavior:  Can generally be found talking about its cats, taking time off to go to the vet, complaining about the high cost of the vet, rolling lint brushes on themselves. applying too much perfume, organizing the church women’s group on company time, caring for its mother, and snacking.

Diet:  Erasers, Meow Mix, decaf coffee with cream,  Lean Cuisines

Reproduction:  Extremely rare.  Cat Lady’s rarely reproduce and instead enjoy an asexual relationship with their furry counterparts.  (It has been suggested in some circles that a commensal sexual relationship may exist that involves tunafish, but has never been proven.)

Numbers:  Low.  Larger offices will generally have at least one.

Danger:  None.  Completely harmless.

Status:  Rare, but not endangered.  Population remains constant even with such a low rate of reproduction

Distant Relative:   The Dog Lady

Part 2 of this exciting series coming soon…

Fatherhood. What I’ve learned…

18 Jun

Pros of being a father:

  • Kids make great slaves and love to fetch beers.
  • Daughters think you walk on water, even if you sink.
  • You’re a hero to your son, even if you’ve never slayed a dragon.
  • Seeing “pride” on your kid’s face makes you feel like it’s your own.
  • Get lots of credit for teaching easy sh*t:  tying shoes, throw a baseball, ride a bike, belch the A,B,C’s, etc.
  • Brag about how awesome your kids are and show them off
  • Kids love cookies & ice cream for breakfast and understand why mom doesn’t need to know.
  • You get to bang their mother (or at least you got to when she was still hot.)
  • Watching kids score goals, hit homers, make plays, and earn awards never, ever gets old.
  • Get to watch old movies you used to love and share them with someone you love.
  • Create new Metallica fans.
  • Children don’t let you forget how important it is to play no matter how old you feel.
  • Easy to hold under a blanket after you let a massive fart.
  • Lots and lots of  hugs.
  • Being called Daddy has the same sincerity as someone saying “Your Royal Majesty…”
  • Keeping current with who’s cool, and who’s not.
  • Some of your kid’s friends will have smokin’ hot moms.
  • Turning tears into smiles.
  • Seeing your kids do something you taught them perfectly.
  • Easy to kick ass at Monopoly cause kids will take any deal, no matter how stupid it is.
  • Chicks don’t find many things sexier than a good father.


  • Your kids grow up.

I sure as hell hope I taught them well.

Happy Father’s Day to all the great Dad’s in the world including my own.

South Korean Marines Fire at Civilian Jetliner – HaHa

18 Jun

FoxNews is reporting that “South Korean marines fired rifles at a civilian jetliner as it was descending to land after mistaking it for a North Korean military aircraft…”  The South Koreans later learned it is much more effective to fire actual bullets at targets rather than the rifles themselves.

Apparently “No one on board was hurt or aware of the shooting, and the South Korean Marine Corps informed the airline of it later in the day”.  Due to the Korean soldiers narrow eyes they were unable to see a jumbo jet “right in front of their face” and missed with every shot.

The rifles harmlessly fell into a nearby preschool playground.

Green Lantern … eh, more like Green Lighter

17 Jun

Ok.  I wasn’t expecting much.  And I didn’t get much.

Overall, a pretty good attempt, but there were a few problems:

  • I think this movie was shot to be about two hours, 20 minutes, and some shit monkey at the studio made them cut 1/2 hour out at the last minute.  There’s several “How the hell did he know…” and “But, what about….” moments that trip up an already shaky script.
  • Bring your yarn & knitting needles.  It takes some time to get going and if you miss the first 20-30 minutes, you didn’t miss anything.
  • When Ryan Reynolds puts on the green mask, he immediately looks exactly like Ben Stiller.  I don’t have the slightest clue how this happens as Ryan Reynolds is a good looking dude.  Stiller looks like a zoo animal with down-syndrome.  It’s wierd, you be the judge.
  • There’s very little hardcore super hero throwdown action.

Good shit:

  • The chick in it is SMOKIN’.  I don’t know who she is but I gotta “bone” up on her.  <wink>

That’s about it!  Oh, and Ryan Reynolds makes a pretty good Green Lantern and the big villian/monster thing is pretty scary.,20741/

The Ketchup Chornicles … Individual packets or solid gold?!?

16 Jun

There’s nothing more humiliating for a ketch-a-holic then to ask for ketchup at his favorite fast food joint.  Nothing says “I’m a freak of nature” like asking for a “big handful” of ketchup three times-in-a-row.  “You must REALLY like ketchup!”

“Oh, do you think so Einstein?!? ”

If you ask for ketchup at the counter, you’re lucky if they hand you three packets.  It’s as if they’re reaching into Jack Sparrow’s treasure chest and handing you gold doubloons!  Are there really normal people who only use three packets for a triple Whopper & a large fry?  I guess those people are a lot better than me…  I don’t know how you do it.

If I were president, it would be federal law that all McDonald’s are required to have a pump ketchup dispenser to save me this agonizing ordeal.  Oh and the little ketchup cups?  Could they possibly make them smaller?  You really believe shrinking the cup will cure my insatiable appetite for my sumptuous red ooze?  If these things get much smaller, I’ll be shooting a spurt directly into my hand.

I want full size Dixie cups to be mandatory next to each mandatory pump dispenser so I don’t have to return every 2 minutes and fill 3 more teeny, tiny cups.

To be continued…

Pawn Stars! Rockstars … or posers?

16 Jun

I love Pawn Stars on A&E!

If you haven’t seen it, you must check it out.  However, I’ve become a little critical of the opening segment where the camera gawks at the boys as they stroll along coolly dressed in black looking like total badasses.  The Old Man removes his hat in an obligatory slo-mo shot, a scowling Rick carries a tray of jewelry, Big Hoss pulls up on a chopper like some hillbilly goomba who accidentally showed up on the set of the Sopranos….and then the show starts and these guys are a bunch of schlumps.  Lovable schlumps mind you, but schlumps none-the-less.

Let me explain:

The Old Man – What the hell is this thing?  OPEN YOUR EYES MAN!  Looks like The Creature from the Black Lagoon, if it was human.  His eyes are just little tiny slits in a weathered old face that time has wiped its ass with.  They’re so narrow, Asian people exclaim “How do dis guy see?!?  Me no know!!”  And he’s a grumpy, son-of-a-bitch too.  I think this guy was the prototype for the Thing from Fantastic Four.  While the opening credits portray him to look like some hustlin’ big daddy hanging out at Bad Bad Leroy Brown’s Pool Hall in the shittiest part of Detroit, he instead is a tired old man who spends most of the show sleeping in front of his computer which he uses to play a never-ending game of solitaire.  Badass?  No.  Schlump?  Yes.  In every sense of the word.

Rick – Ok.  In the opening scene, he’s just a frownin’, frumpy middle aged dude.  Looks like a raging alcoholic and potential wife beater.  Then the show starts and he’s this teddy bear caught in a power struggle between his kid and his father.  While he’s “the boss”, he’s clearly not in charge of jack shit.  I like the fact that he seems to know everyone.  People bring the weirdest shit into the store, but Rick’s got the city clocked and knows every single expert on everything in greater Las Vegas.  Got an ancient Ethiopian vibrator that runs on moon crystals?  He knows a guy who can verify it’s authenticity.  How about a Ming Dynasty peanut de-sheller that runs on brain waves.  Ricks got a guy and he’ll tell you what it’s worth.  Civil war armpit hair trimmer?  Yup.  He can authenticate it, and hustle you for 20% of it’s retail value so you can go score some crack.  I love Rick.

Big Hoss/Corey – Now in the opening credits, Rick introduces his Neanderthal son as “Big Hoss”.  However, I’ve never heard him once referred to as “Big Hoss” on the show.  Nor, would I ever refer to my son as “Big Hoss”.  To me, he would always be Little Hoss, regardless of size.  Right?  I think the network probably made Rick refer to him as “Big Hoss” for the opening voiceover and when Rick signed the contract, he forgot to ink an “artistic differences” clause.  Lesson learned.  Anyways  the kid, Corey is his Christian name, is a big, huge, bumbling doofus.  He seems to think he’s swinging a bigger dick than anyone else in the room, but I’d be willing to bet it’s just average when fully engorged.  Personality seems a bit lacking and you can tell this kid was setup from the day he was born.  Eh…maybe he’s just shy.  Seems like a wanna-be toughguy mama’s boy to me.  He’s kind of a douche, but also a schlump.  Lastly, this kid is cursed as he’s the spitting image of the Old Man minus a few hundred years.  If it weren’t for his family, he’d be guarding the door at Cheetah’s I guarantee it.  Don’t get me wrong though, I like him.

Chumlee – The most lovable schlump on the show is really the star.  Chum’s the only one on the show with a real personality.  Unfortunately, it’s the personality of a slow-witted 8-year-old, but he wears it so well.  I did some research on this one and I’m not certain, but I have a strong suspicion that Chumlee is actually a classically trained stage actor named Charles Schlumlee from Rhode Island who mysteriously vanished about 10 years ago.  Legend has it he’s the sole heir to the Skippy Peanut Butter fortune.

The world needs more Pawn Stars…

“I love pizza!!” and other classic Facebook posts.

15 Jun

When you post lame shit as your Facebook status,  you’re basically just “shitting up” the wall.  I’m scanning that wall busily looking for the next viral YouTube video, gotta-have Groupon, or Hello Kitty convention coming to Seattle.  When I read your shitty update, I have to pause and decide 1) if we can stay Facebook friends, 2) why there isn’t a dislike button, and 3) what I’d say if someone asked me why I’m friends with you.

To modernize, the not-so-great Jeff Foxworthy’s “You might be a Redneck…” bit:

If your posts resemble these, you might be an idiot:

  • I love pizza!!  (Who doesn’t fucktard?)
  • Jolene Daughtry is swimming!!  (With your laptop?  I doubt it…liar.)
  • Larry Hodgkins is in Delaware!!  (Sure you are.  If you really were in Delaware, you would never end that sentence with an exclamation point dumbass.)
  • What’s that big, round, bright thing in the sky?!  (This is something everyone who lives in Seattle thinks is funny to post on a rare sunny day.  It isn’t.  It’s dumb.)
  • Stacey Simpkins is wishing the greatest mom in the world a Happy Birthday!! (You lazy bitch.  Pick up the phone and call her!  Not to mention, your mom is probably NOT the greatest mom in the world.  I certainly know it’s not my mom, but the odds that it’s actually yours are just astronomical.  Next year spell her name out so we know who you’re talking about.)
  • Kristen Bleckman just got done with Extreme Morning Boot Camp!  Yeah!! (Nobody likes to see this shit and feel guilty because they spent their morning workout sleeping in.  We all hope  you get hit by a car walking out.)
  • Can anyone recommend a good 5-star hotel on the beach in Maui?  (Really?  You need a GOOD 5-star hotel?  Fuck you showoff.  Defriend.)
  • I wish I was still on vacation.  (Yeah, I wish you were still on vacation too.  Preferably without your computer.)
  • Waking up to the pitter patter of two pairs of little feet is priceless.  (Apparently you’re not a parent….it’s actually a big pain in the ass.  Shut up and go back to sleep.)
  • Anyone who quotes song lyrics as their status update is probably an idiot.  (I’m actually guilty of this, except I don’t post lyrics from shitty songs.  Everyone else forgot about the Backstreet Boys.  But you just couldn’t let us forget.  Could you, shithead?)
  • I’m soooooo sleeeeeepy…..  (Defriend.  This electronic relationship is going nowhere fast.)
  • Ahhhh…..the couch 🙂   (Ahhh….you’re stupid.)
  • Is anyone else getting spam from me?  (Uhh…what do you call this?)
  • Please pray for my cat.  He’s having surgery tomorrow.  (If I’m going to waste time praying to a pretend God, I’m certainly not praying for Mr. Sparkles.  I’m praying for Lay-Z-Boy to start making recliners out of pizza thank you very much.)

To be continued…

The Ketchup Chronicles …. WTF is Catsup?

15 Jun

I find the term catsup offensive.

The word ketchup does not fully embody the greatness that ketchup is.  However, it stands leaps-and-bounds above catsup.  Ketchup is something to be celebrated, adored, and cherished.  Held high-upon-high.  The King of Sauces.  Why not just call ketchup Jesus?  Its spicy boldness is truly holy and there’s a bottle on the table in every picture of The Last Supper I’ve ever seen.  (Although sometimes it’s hard to see, but keep looking, it’s there.)

Catsup is something to be disregarded.  Technically the “vegetable” on your school lunch tray.  Thrown away during an absence of teacher’s gaze.  Catsup, to me, conjures up nightmarish visions of children being tortured, 9/11, or burgers and dogs being consumed with a thin, watery, tasteless impostor sauce.  The horror…

Askew visions of a KittyKat ghetto where felines greet each other without intellect;  “Yo Cat!  Sup?”

Not widely known, catsup can cause gastro-intestinal bleeding, esophageal rash,  and has even been linked to Ebola.

Ketchup and catsup are not one-and-the-same.  Don’t make that mistake. If I must use catsup, then I choose not to use!

Excuse me while I locate my dictionary and strike out this so-called word.  It’s a term I’m no longer familiar with.

To be continued…