You just made my list!

“Bride down. Trample her! KILL HER!”

I may have to drink about 30 beers to get through this one. There is nothing that would make me act like these cackling hens. These psychos run around like they have flies buzzing around their eyes and some lifesaving U.N. helicopter is hovering above, dropping rice and water. You could fill a room with amazing FREE vintage guitars and I would STILL refuse to scream and claw my way over my fellow man to get one.

Shouldn’t buying a wedding dress be a nice, calm, sweet memory to be shared with your mother and a few close friends? Aren’t you supposed to sip Champagne and talk about your periods? Instead, these idiots put their little matching outfits on (annoying) and go Lord of the Flies all over each other. I don’t care if acting like a plundering pirate saves you a few hundred dollars, nothing is worth demeaning yourself like this.

I’m going to say this at the risk of offending all the women who are reading this, but this clip of the “Running of the Brides” is like an instructional video for how to make a guy’s balls shrink up into his body, forever. I’m just being honest here ladies, it’s shit like this that makes guys occasionally want to be as far away from you as possible. Not YOU personally, I’m talking about these assholes. Just watch the women in the bottom left corner as they selfishly guard their giant pile of dresses like a pack of wolves. CLASSY! Hey, where did my balls go?

I am in such a rage spiral right now I can’t even think of a way to make this funny. After watching these two clips of the Tyra Banks audience literally shitting their XXL panties and giving themselves spontaneous miscarriages over the fact that Tyra is showing them her “real” hair, I am now going to pray to God to take me while I sleep tonight. Please God, kill me. No, don’t just kill me, make me explode or burst into flames! In your name I pray.

There is no way I am the same species as these cackling twats. These fuckers make the Oprah audience look like Buddhist monks! How did this happen? How did we become so stupid? Were people always this vapid and I’m just noticing now because of the internet?

Fuck everything.

Tyra explains something about her real hair while her audience fucks each other from the excitement.

TOUCH IT! LAY YOUR HANDS ON MY PRECIOUS HAIR!

Look at me, I’m walking… TO THE EXTREME!

If I ever catch my child participating in anything that remotely resembles parkour or “free running” I am going straight to the nearest antique tool dealer, buying the largest, rustiest pre-civil war saw they own, driving back home and cutting his feet off. I’m serious, if I so much as see that kid walking on a curb or staring at a wall longingly, he can kiss those tootsies goodbye. Sure, he will complain about how “mean” I am blah blah blah, but what kid doesn’t bitch and moan about their parents? He will thank me later when he’s watching all those douchebags jumping around and falling on their faces, safely from the comfort of his wheelchair. He will look down at his gnarled stumps and think “Thank the good Lord above that I’m not wasting my time on this shit.” He will roll off into the setting sun to the sound of zitty teen faces slamming against the pavement and whisper “Thank you dad.”

Thanks to Jonathan for tipping me off to this Parkour scene from The Office!

If you are anything like me, these parkour accidents will give you a boner.

This afternoon I entered what can only be described as a perfect storm of suckery. A portal to hell opened, and out climbed a collection of douchebags sent to Earth with one mission… to destroy me. This is my tragic tale.

I had to hit the post office this afternoon to ship something I sold on Ebay. It was a beautiful summer day, so even the long line I discovered could not ruin my mood. I say “long” line, but really I was only 7 or 8 people from the front. The package already had proper postage and was ready to go, but since it was kind of a valuable item I decided against dropping it off at the counter and waited in line with the rest of the creeps. It was this decision that caused several things I hate to begin converging.

1) Crazy people! As I was waiting patiently in line I heard the unmistakable sound of a crazy person outside. When I turned and looked out the window I could see he was engaged in a heated debate with the garbage can. Next thing you know, the lamp post chimes in and it’s two against one! I realize I should have compassion for these nutjobs, but I simply don’t, they annoy me. Maybe if I lived in a small town the local psychos would seem charming, but when you live in a major city and you are surrounded by crazies, the charm wears away quickly. Much to my delight, Crazy shook hands with the garbage can and lamp post and marched into the post office to take care of some important shipping.

2) People who get all up in my personal space! Luckily the crazy guy was now a mere 3 inches behind me. Nothing makes a long ling feel like a fucking long line like having a creepy crazy person’s breath blowing through your hair. Well, there is one way to make that line feel EVEN LONGER…

3) People who complain about long lines the entire time they are in a long line! Crazy must have had some important business to get back to at the office because he did not like this long line one bit! I don’t think he stopped talking about the length of the line for longer than 15 seconds. He explained to anyone who would listen (nobody) that the reason the line was long was because there was only one window open. You would think the post office employees would have taken his suggestion to hire more people seriously based on the fact that his shirt was on backward and his shoes were actually socks. It doesn’t get any better than this! Or does it…

4) People who sneeze near me! It was at this point that Crazy started to sneeze uncontrollably. UNCONTROLLABLY! He was like “I don’t understand why SNEEZE they don’t SNEEZE just hire SNEEZE some more people SNEEZE SNEEZE man SNEEZE I ain’t used to SNEEZE this air conditioning SNEEZE SNEEZE SNEEZE.” At least all of his sneeze mist was cooling me down. It was like one of those “cooling tents” at Lollapalooza but more horrible and vomit-inducing. If only there was a way to make his sneezing more annoying…

5) Saying “Bless you!” Every time Crazy would sneeze, the guy behind him in line would say “bless you.” Keep in mind this guy sneezed at least 25 times. How about someone bless me and toss a bucket of holy water in my face to kill the swine flu which was now undoubtedly starting to kill me.

Eventually I made my way to the counter and dropped off my box. Free at last, free at last. Thank God Almighty, I’m free at last! All I had to do was walk out the door and my nightmare would finally be over. Wait, what is happening? Why can’t I get through the door?

6) People who stop in doorways! I have literally never felt the urge to stop in a doorway. Sadly the woman walking in front of me could not fight this urge. Nope, she stopped to read her receipt. I happen to know that she purchased postage for ONE ENVELOPE! What could possibly so important on that receipt that she would need to stop in a doorway to read it? I punched her in the side of the head and went on my way.

Was this as boring to read as it was to write?

Boredom + white women + sponge = sponge painting!

I was going to write this long, super hilarious rant about sponge painting and how it looks like a cartoon character has wiped its shitty ass all over your walls, but then I realized I was lazy. Actually, the truth is that while searching for sponge painting photos I discovered the site uglyhousephotos.com and spent WAY too much time on it. The end result is that I have run out of time to write AND I literally feel nauseous from looking at these disgusting houses. I need to cry for a while.

I suck but you probably suck too, so we are even.

Fuck you Jill, fuck you Kevin and fuck you anyone who has emailed this video with a little note that says “OMG this is awesome! Hilarious, a MUST SEE!”

There are a lot of things about this video that offend me, but the thing that REALLY makes me insane is the fact that this wacky dancing wedding shit is OLD NEWS! Jill and Kevin are way at the end of a long list of douchebags who worked up some lame wedding dance in an attempt to find internet fame. Why is everyone acting like Kevin and his whore bride Jill have invented something new? Yeah, Jill is a whore by the way.

At least the shitheads who did the Thriller dance at their wedding a few years ago put some effort into it. Jill, Kevin and their fat-fuck friends thought it was good enough to put on sunglasses and randomly convulse their way down the aisle. Oh, the fucking sunglasses make me so fucking mad. The kind of people who think a pair of sunglasses paired with a suit make you look “cool” are the same tools who slap on a Hawaiian shirt (tucked into khaki shorts of course) and a plastic lei before heading to the Jimmy Buffet concert. You see, the Hawaiian shirt conveys a general fondness for the beach party lifestyle while the plastic lei says “Hey bro, I own over 15 CDs and close to 30 MP3s so obviously I know how to party!”

The other thing that really perplexes me about Jill (the whore) and Kevin is that they chose to use a Chris Brown song in their wedding ceremony. I think Chris Brown best summed up what it means to be in love when he said, “Bitch, I love beatin’ yo ass! Now git da fuck outta my car, bitch! Yeah, I know it’s still moving you stupid fucking ho, now jump out dat window before I punch some mo love into yo teeth!”

Can everyone PLEASE stop trying to make their weddings into an internet sensation? Here’s a wacky idea, concentrate on what it means to be getting married and stop trying to be the next big thing on youtube. Is there anyone left on the planet who does not want to be famous or a public spectacle?

I hope Jill and Kevin (the whore’s husband) are eaten by a shark on their honeymoon. I hope their plane crashes into the mouth of a shark. I hope their plane crashes into the mouth of a shark and on the way down Jill cheats on Kevin with the guy sitting next to them. I hope that she gets pregnant during this quick fling and gets an abortion right there on the plane in front of Kevin and her new lover. I hope the guy who impregnates Jill on Kevin’s lap has swine flu. I hope the shark that eats Jill, Kevin, Jill’s aborted fetus, Jill’s lover, and the plane has AIDS.

Too far?

Please understand that I am not kidding and I am not trying to be funny or outrageous when I say that the guitar solo(s) in Get Back make me feel ill. I literally feel queasy and irritable the second I hear that muffled monstrosity of a guitar solo.

It’s not just the notes that are played, it’s the sound of the guitar. The Get Back lead guitar sound is the audio equivalent of some creepy stranger giving you an unwanted massage on the bus. Oh, and it’s summer and it just rained but the hot sun is now pouring through the bus windows turning the bus into a rolling greenhouse filled with the stale air from 10,000 armpits. And guess what? You also have the flu. You also just whipped up a fresh batch of diarrhea in your pants. Your snow pants. Yeah, that’s right, you are wearing snow pants in August because your fever is melting your brain and you can no longer tell the difference between winter and summer attire. When you turn around to feebly whisper the words “please stop touching me” you see that the sweaty ham hands belong to super-douche Guy Fieri. All you can do is sit in your poo-filled pants and cry while he describes things as “money.”

FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFF! FUCK OFFFFFF!

The internet isn’t big enough for the number of times I want to say FUCK YOU to the world of slam poetry. Just the thought of these losers sends a chill through my body. What is the point of this bullshit and why ARE-THEY-ALWAYS-YELLING?

Yelling isn’t the only thing you can count on when watching these asswipes slam poetry into your face. You can also expect to see a lot of pseudo hip hop hand gestures. These bent wrists and mangled fingers do not only belong to black “poets” dressed all hip hoppy, oh no my friend, you will see plenty of overweight white chicks in Tina Fey glasses popping and locking like they are Flavor Flav at the BET Awards®.

And what is with that annoying cadence they all use? It’s hard to describe in print, but it goes something like this…

“yelling yelling yelling quickly yelling bullshit… quiet word… soft word… yelling more bullshit yelling bullshit bullshit bullshit… quiet word”

I can’t take anymore of this. Here, try to watch this without killing yourself.

This poem is titled “Seen Not Heard.” God, I wish.

All you wannabe slam poets out there need to throw in the towel because nobody rips spoken word a new asshole like motherfucking Precious Taft!