You just made my list!

Please explain to me why it is that every time I place an order at Kinkos (yes I know it’s really called FedEx Office now) they look at me like I have just requested a handjob?

Here’s the scenario…

Brad: “Welcome to Kinkos, I mean FedEx Kinkos, um, I mean FedEx Office. Welcome to us.”

Me: “Hi. I have two PDFs on this thumb drive and I would like some signs printed. As you can see from my diamond rapper-style Rolex, I have precious little time to waste, so let’s make this happen.”

Brad: “OK, I will open your files on this computer here while giving you a dirty look for interrupting my day and making me do what I’m paid for. Do these files look correct?”

Me: “Yes, those are the files I need printed. Can we speed this along, my Lamborghini is parked in the handicap spot. Well, actually it’s parked across all three handicap spots.”

Brad: “OK. Um, how many do you need? One each?”

Me: “No, I will need 40 of each sign.”

Brad: “WHAT?!? 40 each? That’s like 80 signs total you idiot, nobody could ever have a need for 80 signs! It is literally IMPOSSIBLE to even FIND enough places on the Earth to post 80 signs! Clearly you misspoke and meant to order one each of these signs so I will go ahead and note that on the order.”

Me: “I know it’s difficult for you to believe, but when I asked for 40 each of these two signs I actually DID want 40 each of these two signs. I was also aware that 40 plus 40 equaled 80 and I even realized that 80 signs would cost more than two signs. I was under the impression that you made copies of things here at your copy shop.”

Brad: “I have to get the manager on this one. JEFF? JEFF?”

Jeff: “Hello sir, I’m Jeff and I manage this Kinkos, I mean FedEx Office, how can I help you?”

Me: “I would like to order 40 each of these two files but that request has Brad utterly perplexed for some reason. Clearly as the manager, you will sort this out and I will be on my way.”

Jeff: “You son… of… a… bitch. You God damn, motherfucking son-of-a-bitch. I suggest you remove yourself from my property before I am forced to remove you myself. Sir, you make me want to vomit! Now turn around and take your 80 signs the hell out of my Kinkos, FedEx whatever the fuck, and if I ever see your face in here asking for MULTIPLE GOD DAMN COPIES again I will not hesitate to beat you senseless with these inspirational business books.”

Me: “Can I get my drive…”

Jeff and Brad: “GOOD DAY SIR!”

Tags: douchebags, dumb, fedex, kinkos, signs

If you would like to climb inside my mind and get a better feel of my mental state when I think about The American Girl Store, I suggest you turn your speakers up as loudly as they will go, tape them to your head with duct tape, smash a habanero chili into your eyes, knock your teeth out with a hammer and play the video below.

I fucking despise The American Girl Store and the army of rich, white 8-year-old zombies they are grooming to take over the planet. If my daughter asked for an American Girl doll I would kindly ask her to pack whatever she could fit into a paper sack and then she and I would take a leisurely drive to the orphanage. The uncomfortable silence of the car ride would only be broken when I softly say, “You are no longer my child” from a rolled down car window as the nuns take her and her paper sack into her new home.

“What’s the big deal, it’s just dolls” you say. After I’m done throwing my beer in your face I will tell you what the big deal is. Here’s the way it works… first you have to be a rich white girl. Second, you have to have a bat-shit crazy mother who is trying to compensate for her own fucked up childhood and thinks it perfectly normal to spend several hundred dollars taking you and your fucking piece-of-shit doll for a day of pampering most adults can only dream of. These soulless zombie dolls spend the day getting their hair styled, attending tea parties, buying expensive clothing, snorting top notch Colombian cocaine off a Huey Lewis and the News CD while getting jerked off in a 1993 Honda Civic in the Burger King parking lot near the airport. Wait, somehow that turned into my day.

The point is this, FUCK YOU and your fucking doll that’s dressed like you and is an asshole like you even though you are only 9 and fuck your overnight stays at the Ritz for the low low starting price of only $430 “for a moderate room.”

Take the pain away, Abominable Iron Sloth!

Tags: america, children, dolls, the worst thing ever, toys

I’m writing this from my phone because Comcast has decided to ruin everyone’s fun. Apparently Comcast’s internet service is down all over the Midwest. There are a lot of boners that will go un-whacked tonight. So feel free to discuss anything you like. I suggest something like “Do you think Guy Fieri wears sunglasses on the back of his fat sweaty head to cover up an underdeveloped twin?”

Tags: comcast, guy fieri, internet

Part 473 in my series, “Why does everything suck now?”

As I mentioned before, I love old people, I really do, but it’s getting harder to distinguish them from the younger crowd when they ride around the city on Vespas wearing cool clothes and listening to The Arcade Fire on their iPods. I need to know you are old so I can respect you, otherwise I’m just going to judge you and hate you like I do everyone else!

When I was a kid, old people looked old and they acted their age. In fact, they acted older than their age and it felt right. Old ladies got their hair set once a week at the beauty shop, they protected that hairdo with a clear plastic rain bonnet while outdoors (rain or shine) and continued to protect that precious blue hair at night with yet another bonnet. They wore those old lady glasses and they wore dresses in public, house dresses while watching their “stories” at home and nightgowns to bed. I’m fairly sure they were never naked, ever. They wore enough perfume to mark you like an animal for a week after they hugged you and they didn’t fucking do water aerobics.

Old men wore their pants high and kept their pockets filled with pens, tire gauges and pocket knives. They had ear hair and nose hair thick enough to make a broom and their hands were big and intimidating. They had a favorite chair, you knew not to bother them while they occupied that chair and if you suggested they try “Sweating to the Oldies” they would punch you in the face with their giant hands, leaving you to pick hand hair out of your face for the rest of the day.

They looked the part and it gave us kids a visual reminder that they were the grown-ups and we were mostly just in the way. The good old days.

But forget about all that today. Today’s selfish old people have the nerve to milk life for everything it’s worth and can usually be spotted having fun in comfortable clothing. What the fuck is up with that?

Tags: fashion, kids, old ladies, old man, senior citezens

Sad. Look at your long, luxurious silken mane! Tell me young man, are you a model for romance novels? I honestly thought for a second that you were Fabio. Seriously, I’m not kidding, I saw you and… OH MY GOD, YOU’RE BALD! MY EYES! I WAS SO DISTRACTED BY YOUR BEAUTIFUL PONYTAIL THAT I HADN’T NOTICED! IT BURNS! Come on pal, do you really think those last few tragic strands of hair clinging for life on the back of your head are enough to distract from the polished orb that sits just above? I know you desperately want to tell the world “I’m fun! I own Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits!” but maybe it’s time to throw in the hair towel and admit that Mother Nature is kicking your head’s ass. I know you have a bit of a “rep” to maintain at the shoelace factory but maybe it’s time to let that new guy in shipping be the “cool, easy-going rock dude” for a while. Nothing wrong with being bald, right? Maybe if you shave your head you will acquire an LL Cool J vibe, or better yet Bruce Willis! There, now we’re talking, you want to be the new Bruce Willis in the neighborhood? I’ll make you a deal, cut off that feeble tail, bury it in backyard and I will buy you a harmonica. I think Bruce Willis said it best… respect yourself.

Tags: fashion, hair, old man, ponytails, the worst thing ever, white trash

Just wrapping up another 15 hour work day! Ahhhh life, you are a constant joy. The end result is me neglecting my duties as world’s best blogger.

Here’s a cat with its head in a bag. Shut up.

Tags: cats, cute, funny, holidays, me

Look at me, I’m God, I hate everything, I’m jealous of people who are funnier than me so I kill them from high atop my magical cloud spaceship. I sit alone in my cloud condo eating sandwiches made out of some animal that only I know about, slowly killing off the cast of Airplane because nobody ever came to see my improv group even though I like totally put flyers up all over heaven. Peter Graves DEAD… Barbara Billingsley DEAD… Leslie Nielsen… SEE YA! Look out guy who had the starring role but nobody knows the name of, because you are next. La dee frickin’ da, I’m God and I’m going to take all my toys home unless someone plays with me.

Leslie Nielsen farts on TV and you love it!

Tags: cel, celebrities, dead, death, god, Leslie Neilsen, movies

Look at you opening your beer with your shirt, you sicken me.

I’m not one of those guys who is obsessed with being macho. For example, when my girlfriend’s dad put me in a headlock this weekend during a family Thanksgiving party in an attempt to show me I was no match for his karate skills, I just rode it out until he grew bored with choking me. HOWEVER, there are some things a man should simply never do. Obviously never get into a karate match with your girlfriend’s father and never open a twist-off beer with your shirt. I’m pretty sure Nancy Reagan and her tiny hands that look like wet toilet paper draped over sticks could still twist open a bottle of beer, so what’s your excuse? I hate you.

Don’t think I can’t see you casually slip that bottle under your Spin Doctors T-shirt. I see it and I’m judging you.

Shame. Shame on you and your pussy hands. The next time you consider using your Ralph Lauren golf shirt to pop open a shitty Miller Lite, please remember these videos, because sometimes being a bro is the right thing to do.

Tags: beer, bros, douchebags