Admittedly, this is sort of a cop-out post because I’m in the middle of a huge project and don’t have a ton of time for “blogging.” God damn I hate the term “blogging!” Even though this is a short post it is still brilliantly awesome and you should bow before me for finding the time to squeeze it out of my brain hole.
Here are two commercials that have been making me insane lately. One makes me insane with rage while the other practically gives me a boner from how awesomely awesome it is.
Let me start with the one I hate. I’m sure you have seen this commercial for “Rhythm Heaven” on the Nintendo DSi Featuring Beyonce. First of all, what the hell is the point of this game? As far as I can tell, the goal is to slowly become retarded. I hate when people call things retarded but in this case I literally think this game might make you retarded. Wait, is Beyonce actually retarded and I’m being incredibly insensitive?
If I’m ever having a bad day all I have to do is watch this commercial for finallyfast.com and the world seems beautiful again. Specifically the part with the video game kid! Oh sweet lord I love him! I fear him, but I love him. Seriously mom, get this kid a faster connection because he has a certain “shooting-up-the-high-school” vibe to him.
Look, I just want to shake your hand, not dance the forbidden Lambada with you.
I was in a band for years that primarily appealed to a male audience that was usually younger than I am. Often times after we saw a hundred faces and rocked them all, those faces would line up to tell us how fucking awesome we were. They were right. Maybe I’m a fuddy-duddy, but I used to PANIC when some young DJ-type guy would stretch his hand towards me with a smile on his face because I knew I was about to fail at being “cool.”
I could always tell right away from the angle of the hand that this was not going to be my grandfather’s handshake. Oh no my friend, this handshake was going to involve all my concentration and would most likely end in a one-armed, back punching, bro hug. If not a hug, it would at the very least, require me to anticipate what his hand was going to do next in a lame attempt to mimic his movements, thus maintaining my status as the coolest guy in the room. If we locked hands in a soul shake would it end there, or do we have to do that finger-snap thing as we release? I’m sweating just thinking about it. Not only do I not know how to do that finger snap thing, I don’t fucking want to know how! I refuse to practice. I refuse to learn.
I bet a Guy Fieri handshake lasts like 45 minutes and ends shirtless. I have to go throw up.
Am I the only idiot who is still watching Lost? I’ve never really liked the show but now I have to see it through to the end. I just want answers God damn it! This season they are taking me to the edge of insanity with the addition of time travel. Fuck me. I guarantee, those jerk writers added time travel to the mix because it allows them to do anything they want. They can get out of all the corners they backed themselves into by simply letting time travel explain it away.
My slow noodle is about to explode from all this jumping back and forth through time. Just tell me what the fucking smoke monster is and why there are polar bears and pirate ships on this piece of shit island already! Is it heaven? Is John Locke Jesus? Is this whole show taking place in Hurley’s fat head? WHAT DO THE NUMBERS MEAN?
Here’s the deal, time travel never works in any TV show or movie. There are simply too many holes and complications to make it plausible in any plot. I mean right now on Lost we have to accept that there is a child Ben and an adult Ben walking around at the same time for Christ’s sake. Don’t even get me started on the disappearing photo in Back to the Future!
On a side note: I just overheard a commercial for the new “Fast and Furious” movie and they quoted the following review… “The best of all the Fast and Furious movies.” That’s like saying “The best tasting bucket of vomit.” I wish I had a time machine so I could go back 45 seconds and change the channel. Or maybe I could go back to 2001. Not to stop 9/11 but to kill everyone responsible for The Fast and The furious. FINE, I’ll kill Osama Bin Laden too. I’m so nice.
Since I tricked all your sucka asses yesterday I’m giving you a double post (sort of) today!
OK, let’s get into it. I am sick of the term “bling,” I’m sick of actual bling, and I’m sick of people who say and/or own bling. I’m extra sick of the full use of the saying “bling bling.” As soon as your mom knows a slang term it’s over. I heard a news anchor say “dissed” a few months ago and I nearly set my TV and my own ears on fire. I’m glad the world economy is collapsing because maybe it will put an end to this ridiculous diva attitude everyone walks around with. Actually, now that I think about it most of the idiots obsessed with blingy crap are already poor. Fuck, bling is here to stay.
And while you’re at it, take your 22″ rims and shove ’em up your bling hole. Why is it 98% of the time I see a car with “fancy” rims it is painfully obvious that those rims cost more than the blue book value of the piece of shit car they are attached to?
We have such wonderful priorities don’t we? When I say “we” I mean not me.
That’s right jerks, I’m done. It’s over. I quit. Take this job and shove it!
I’ve spent almost every night of the last 9 months forcing myself to write this dumb blog and I finally came to the realization that I hate blogging. I don’t even LIKE blogs so what the hell am I doing writing one?
The truth is it has been really fun and I have enjoyed watching a little community of fellow complainers grow around the site and I feel really bad about leaving you all alone with your dark thoughts. On one hand I am happy I will no longer have to force myself to write every day but on the other hand I feel sick about letting my dumb little blog die. I also hate April Fools jokes and I hate myself for playing one today. So stop crying you big idiots. I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got too many things to complain about.
Is it just me or does it seem like a porno or a drug deal gone bad could break out at any moment in these places?
You can always spot a McMansion from a mile away thanks to the “grand” entrance they ALL have. I wonder what it must feel like to enter your home through such a fantastic portal. On one hand you must feel big and important because you are living the dream but at the same time you must also feel tiny standing next to your giant plastic pillars. Actually I would imagine the “rich “people who own these monstrosities usually just enter through their two car garage. Yeah you heard right, these titans of industry can park two cars, indoors!
The only good thing about McMansions is that you can be sure most of the douchebags who own them are currently losing their asses in this terrible economy. That’s something to be happy about, right?
I’m guessing if you are the kind of person who is lazy enough to use an automatic shower sprayer you have a bathroom that requires more help than this piece of shit can provide. A push of this magic button is not going to erase the last 10 years of failure as a human being. You are still going to have Flamin Hot Cheeto dust all over your “Everybody Loves Raymond” T-shirt after asking your new high tech shower robot (you will think it’s a robot) to clean that filthy hell hole you call a shower.
Maybe I’m being too harsh but I’m pretty sure I am right about everything, always. GOD DAMN, I’m awesome!
OK, here’s the deal. I have a few sites all running on the same server and due to my awesomeness I am starting to overwork the computer machine. You see, the internet is a series of tubes and… forget it, you can’t possibly understand. Anyway, it has made working on the site difficult BUT the complaining will resume Monday!!!
In the meantime, here’s a funny story. In high school I was dating a girl over the summer who moved to my town from Texas. About a week after school started I took her on a date to Fuddruckers. Nothing says “class” and “romance” like a 4lb cheeseburger. So as I’m taking my first bite she tells me that she’s dumping me. Couldn’t she have waited until after I ate my giant burger? Or here’s an idea, tell me BEFORE we get to Fuddruckers and I spend my lawn mowing money on your sorry ass. The best part however is that she casually told me she was breaking up with me because I was not popular enough. Let me tell you, that was a feel-good moment.
Not popular enough? ME?!?
Oh yeah, well I’m so popular now that I’m crashing servers! I’m too popular for technology to even fucking handle it!
When I reread this I realize she made the right choice.
