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.
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.
OK, I will explain this one time and one time only… NEVER put ketchup on a hot dog!
The only exception is if you are a child. I have come up with a handy way to know if you are too old to put ketchup on a hot dog. If you are old enough to grow pubes you are too old to put ketchup on a hot dog. It’s that simple. As Maurie Berman, owner of Superdawg, says “Ketchup on a hot dog is an abomination!”
So what is allowed on your precious wiener?
– All-Beef frank, grilled not boiled
– Neon green relish
– Raw white onion
– Yellow mustard
– Cucumber slices
– Tomato wedges
– Shredded lettuce
– Dill pickle spear
– Celery salt
– Hot sport peppers (optional but advised)
– All resting nicely on a steamed poppy seed bun
In Chicago this is known as “dragging it through the garden.” As a hot dog expert I can tell you there are no better hot dogs than in Chicago. New York easily wins the pizza battle but Chicago owns the hot dog.
(said in annoying whiny voice) “But I like ketchup on my hot dogs.” BULLSHIT! Stop embarrassing yourself.
Best Chicago style hot dog: Murphy’s Red Hots – 1211 W. Belmont, Chicago Best fancy dogs: Hot Doug’s – 3324 N. California, Chicago
I went to see “Paul Blart: Mall Cop” and not only was I punished for this decision by having to sit through it, I now have a cold that I undoubtedly caught from one of the many mouth-breathers who made up the audience of cackling idiots. Just when I thought the day was winding down and I could drift off to sleep on the couch I accidentally turned on the Grammys. What I saw will haunt me for the rest of my life.
Do you remember the first time you saw footage of that Vietnamese solider shooting that Vietcong guy in the head? Remember watching this man die right on the street, blood pouring from his head? Take that horrible, disgusting, soul-crushing feeling and multiply it by approximately 523,038 and you will know how I felt seeing the Jonas Brothers shitting their shit all over “Superstition” while poor Stevie jammed along with them obliviously. Who is responsible? Who could do this to Stevie? Did they tell him it was Radiohead or The White Stripes? Taking advantage of a blind man like that makes me sick. SICK!
I mean that’s the only way Stevie Wonder would ever perform with the Jonas Brothers, right?
Seriously, look how dark this stupid green highlighter is! What kind of a cocky son of a bitch do you have to be to think you are more important than the words you are meant to highlight? What the fuck highlighter, who do you think you are?
For those of you who are smart enough to live in a place without winter, look at the fun you are missing! I took this photo out of my front windshield yesterday. Looks a little bit like trying to drive on the surface of the sun doesn’t it?
You see, when it’s really cold the sky often becomes very clear making the sun brighter than you might be used to. Add in white snow everywhere, white salt stains and wet icy roads and guess what pal, you’re fucking blind! The icing on the shitty cake is that your windshield is perpetually dusted with salt and dried slush so when the sun hits it it’s like trying to see through a white bed sheet.
Thank God I was lucky enough to see this piece of crap for free thanks to an advance DVD. I think I may have literally gone insane had I seen it in a theater.
For the record, I wanted to see this movie and I wanted to like it. I really like most of David Fincher’s movies and I even like Brad Pitt. Side note: if you look up “The Curious Case of Benjamin Button” on IMDB, Brad Pitt is not listed in the cast. Kind of a dis considering he is in every scene.
While watching this movie I had an uneasy feeling, the exact feeling I had while watching “Forrest Gump.” It’s a feeling I can only describe as being inappropriately touched by a tiny crowd of “Love Is” figurines while being force fed a bag of sugar. Benjamin Buttons might be the biggest “aw shucks” movie of all time, even more so than Gump. Oh by the way, guess why it reminded me of Forrest Gump? Both movies share the screenwriting magic of Eric Roth! Turd.
For a movie that tells the entire life story of a man, a man who ages in reverse no less, it’s incredibly BORING! Not to mention, this film clocks in at around 7 hours and 35 minutes. I took a 45 minute nap and had no problem picking up the action when I awoke because all I missed was a 45 minute scene of Brad Pitt drinking tea.
