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?
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.
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.
Prepare to be disappointed by me this week because I’m not going to have much free time to write. Perhaps that is the opposite of disappointing to you. Either way, it’s the holidays, I’m working my dick off, I’m driving all over the Midwest seeing family and I’m not finding a lot of time to express my correct opinions about everything. I’m going to do my best to be back tomorrow.
This is an actual photo of the asshole sky that hung over my head all day today in Chicago. What’s the big deal, every place on Earth has gray (is it gray or grey) days, cheer up little fella. Right? Fuck you, you weather-know-it-all-jerk because this is the sky I have seen for the last 2 weeks and will continue to see for the next 5 months. If it were legal I would pay someone to keep me in a controlled coma for the next 5 months.
If the dark skies don’t convince you to drop a toaster in the bath the unholy wind blasting through your soul like dentist drill will. I am not exaggerating when I say that the winter wind in Chicago has made me cry… as an adult.
But then big beautiful snowflakes the size of cotton balls gently wiggle their way down from the inky night sky and every tree branch looks like it has been covered in whipped cream and mayonnaise by Paula Dean. The snow absorbs all the usual city noise and it sounds like you are hiding under a blanket. Charming. WRONG because the next day you wake up to your street littered with folding chairs and miscellaneous garbage placed by your fucking, dipshit, asshole, white trash, cocksucker, fuckwad, idiotic, selfish neighbors who believe they can save “their” parking spot for THE ENTIRE WINTER. This might honestly be the thing I despise most in life.
It’s amazing that an actor trying to be cartoonishly annoying can’t even come close to being as annoying as the real Guy Fieri. Very funny though. Thanks to Ken for tipping me off to this nice piece of Guy Fieri bashing. Sadly, Guy Fieri is too fucking dumb to realize this is a joke on him. He will see this and think “Am I really THAT money?”
I don’t care what you REALLY look like because I’m masturbating to the stock photo of “you” on your company’s website the entire time you are giving me the run-around on the phone. Consider it your punishment, or consider it my gift to you. Either way, it’s happening. Take THAT Comcast!
When I hear someone say “That’s what I’m talking about” I immediately trace my steps and try to figure out how I ended up in this frat house and where the hell did my pants go?!?
I hate this phrase. It literally makes me cringe. Actual physical cringing takes place. It’s never used to describe something genuinely awesome, like a cure for cancer or a box full of kittens. Instead, it’s used to describe important events like witnessing your buddy vomit into his own hands. Everyone knows the correct response to that situation should be a gentle nodding of the head and a quiet “beautiful” whispered to yourself.
