Oh my God, look at how beautiful that peacock is with his majestic feathers extended like some magical fairytale bird.
WRONG! You have never been more wrong you stupid idiot! That peacock is trying to hypnotize that peahen and fuck her terrified ass. Oh yeah, and he wants to do it while your family watches! No wonder “cock” is in his name!
If you have only experienced peacocks in photographs then you probably think I’m crazy. However, if you have witnessed this horror show in person then you will know what I’m talking about. The male will raise his feathers in an attempt to look awesome. Fine, I can deal with that. It’s not unlike when I walk around Six Flags shirtless. Next it surrounds the peahen and shakes its ass a few times. OK, sounds like me at the beach. But then it all goes terribly wrong. This creepy jerk violently vibrates his feathers, creating the most horrific sound you will ever hear. It’s subtle but disgusting! I am not lying when I tell you it makes my skin crawl. When I witnessed it up close and personal in Hawaii I thought I was going to cry or barf or maybe cry barf out of my eyes.
You think I’m good at blogging? You should see me work my magic behind the wheel. Sitting in the passenger seat of my car is akin to sharing the piano bench with Beethoven while he composes his music and shit. Yeah, I’m THAT good.
While the rest of you are sitting confused and helpless behind a UPS truck, I simply check my mirrors and casually turn my steering wheel allowing me to drive around said truck. While you monsters allow your fellow man to die a slow death at a parking lot exit, I give the gift of life with the benevolent wave of my kind hand. You drive like you no longer have arms and eyes while trying to talk on a cell phone but I can literally send a text and eat an ice cream sundae while flawlessly driving with my knees. I work my way through traffic effortlessly like a surgeon carefully performing brain surgery… on a fucking brain! A human brain you idiot! I drive with a kind yet firm hand. I will happily pay it forward but do not think you shall tread on me.
Parallel parking? Yeah, I’m pretty much the best at that too. Actually, I’m awesome at driving in reverse in all situations. I once drove from Chicago to Detroit IN REVERSE! I’ve changed from my beach wear into a tuxedo while driving 70 MPH down the highway. The drivers I pass give me thumbs up and rush home to twitter or tweet or whatever the fuck it’s called.
I’m not dumb, I understand WHY people were initially fascinated by the Octo-mom but can’t we move on to the next freak now?
Weeks ago I thought about writing something about this weirdo but it’s too obvious. How could I possibly add a fresh perspective to the subject? This human clown car* is obviously sick and any reasonable person should be able to acknowledge that and move on. So why the hell do I have to see her Angelina-Jolie-post -flaming-car-accident face every time I turn on the TV?
Don’t try to blame the media either. If they were not getting ratings from the subject they would drop the story faster than Octo-mom drops babies out of her skirt. ZING!
I know most people can’t look away from a car wreck like this but I really think they should. At best, give it a quick glance but then fight the urge to stare. I’m honestly not trying to be holier than thou but I have a real problem with people who are entertained by others’ misery (unless it’s someone getting hit in the nuts.) I feel like everyone’s fascination with this woman and her soon-to-be-fucked up kids is like watching a cock fight.
I’m pretty sure I will win some sort of major literary (I just misspelled literary) award for this post.
Every week I see commercials for ER that claim the next episode is a “can’t-miss event.” It seems to me whatever hospital these guys work at is the least safe hospital in the world. Every week there’s a guy with a gun mowing people down or a helicopter crashing through the roof. You’re there for a simple tummy ache and the next thing you know your alcoholic doctor is screwing the nurse and a runaway truck is driving through your room.
Why can’t ER be more like People’s Court and be awesome? Is that too much to ask?
Let me go ahead and stop anyone who is going to make the argument that “it’s refreshing to see ‘interesting’ people model instead of the same old generic beautiful people.” Bullshit! If you think that the fashion world is seeking higher moral ground with these turd faces then you are dumber than Guy Fieri. The fashion industry is filled with borderline-retarded people who are way too narcissistic to ever think that far ahead. It’s weird for the sake of being weird.
I don’t want to see “normal” people model. I want to see textbook-perfect looking models who make you angry they are so beautiful. I want them to make me look in the mirror and hate what I see. I want to doubt everything about myself when I see their perfectly formed bodies sent to earth by God on the backs of winged puppies. Give me a Heidi Klum any day over these gap-toothed alien faces. Heidi Klum literally makes me want to punch myself in the face for being less of a person. This should be the goal of all models, to make the rest of us hate our lives.
I was all set to write about something completely different today until a Mighty Mighty Bosstones song started playing at the gym. As soon as the disgusting, throaty, barf bag* vocals of Dicky Barrett entered my ears I instantly knew I would be changing today’s post. THEN out of nowhere some guy walked by bathed in AXE body spray. As I lay there on the floor like a fish out of water desperately trying to breathe while the Bosstones mocked me from the speakers above I realized this was the single worst moment of my life. It was as if all of my fears had become real. I began to cry, the kind of crying normally reserved for children. The kind that turns your breathing in to a series of violent convulsions. The crying along with the AXE that still hung in a thick cloud around me caused me to pass out. “Is this what they mean by the AXE effect?” I thought as the world turned dark and blurry.
I woke up in the hospital (which is where I’m writing this) with tubes and wires covering my body. The doctors told me my body had literally shut down from “an overwhelming amount of sucky shit.”
*I think I stole the “barf bag” description of Dicky Barrett’s vocal style from a review I read years ago.
I’m on the brink of barfing up the lasagna I just ate just from the mere thought of my shins. Thinking of a thin layer of skin over bone makes me asjhgdddddddddddddd… Sorry, I passed out and my head landed on the keyboard.
I hate all areas of the body where skin is next to bone or cartilage without a layer of delicious fat. My ranking from bad to worse is as follows:
1) Fingers – Not horrible but close to upsetting me.
2) Nose – My face hurts just from thinking about the bridge of my nose.
3) Sternum – I want to crawl out of my skin when I think of my sternum.
4) Shins – FUCK OFF!
My hatred of shins began when I was a child and spent most of my summers with bruised and scraped legs. I remember one day when my shoelaces got tangled in my bicycle and I was forced to hobble home several blocks with my boney shins bumping and scraping against the pedals with every step. I’m pretty sure I cried the entire way home while tied to my yellow Schwinn Stingray. Side note: why the fuck did my parents buy me a yellow bike and why didn’t I just take my shoes off rather than limp home like an idiot? I hate myself.
I saw A LOT of short, sassy mom hair last week on vacation starting with this gem of a hairdo at the airport. This woman wants the world to know that the kids are in college and she’s ready to put on a comfortable pair of Crocs and get tipsy on 1 and a half margaritas. Oh what the hay, she might even order it with salt on the rim. I’m guessing someone is going to get his bald head rubbed too.
The thing that makes sassy mom hair so special is the fact that, unlike the mullet, it’s party up front and an even bigger party in the back. The whole fucking head is in party mode!
Wait, do I like sassy hair or hate it? I can’t tell anymore.
