You just made my list!

That’s right jerks, I’m done. It’s over. I quit. Take this job and shove it!

I’ve spent almost every night of the last 9 months forcing myself to write this dumb blog and I finally came to the realization that I hate blogging. I don’t even LIKE blogs so what the hell am I doing writing one?

The truth is it has been really fun and I have enjoyed watching a little community of fellow complainers grow around the site and I feel really bad about leaving you all alone with your dark thoughts. On one hand I am happy I will no longer have to force myself to write every day but on the other hand I feel sick about letting my dumb little blog die. I also hate April Fools jokes and I hate myself for playing one today. So stop crying you big idiots. I’m not going anywhere, I’ve got too many things to complain about.

Really? Seriously? For Reals?!?

I’m guessing if you are the kind of person who is lazy enough to use an automatic shower sprayer you have a bathroom that requires more help than this piece of shit can provide. A push of this magic button is not going to erase the last 10 years of failure as a human being. You are still going to have Flamin Hot Cheeto dust all over your “Everybody Loves Raymond” T-shirt after asking your new high tech shower robot (you will think it’s a robot) to clean that filthy hell hole you call a shower.

Maybe I’m being too harsh but I’m pretty sure I am right about everything, always. GOD DAMN, I’m awesome!

Just how badly do these parents want their daughters to be strippers, sluts, bitches, bimbos and/or whores? It is scientifically proven that the most likely way to see your daughter flash her dumb tits on a Girls Gone Wild commercial is to allow her to watch Bratz or play with Bratz dolls. On a side note, I wish I could be there to witness some dad sitting alone in the family room late at night as he gets a boner watching a Girls Gone Wild commercial when all of a sudden, WHAM, his daughter appears on the screen! That has got to be one of the greatest moments in the history of mankind. I mean not for him but for the rest of us.

What was I talking about? Oh yeah, if you let your daughter watch Bratz you are a bad parent and your kid is going to be a trashy whore. That is all.

I tried to resist talking about these two but they are making it impossible! Chris Brown is obviously a huge, steaming pile of donkey turd. Who the fuck is he anyway? Is he a rapper? I can’t tell anymore, everyone looks like a rapper. Do I even need to go into detail about Chris Brown’s epic level of douchebaggery? Let’s move on.

What’s even more insane is that Rihanna is prancing around with this asshole acting like nothing happened. They’re living it up in Miami on jet skiis, partying with Puff Diddy and even working on a song together. Does she remember when he was beating the shit out of her and trying to THROW HER OUT OF A MOVING CAR? If I forget to take the recycling out I hear about it for a week.*

I honestly don’t know who I’m more disgusted with in this scenario. They are both such great role models. I’m burning my Chris Brown and Rihanna CDs! Do they still make CDs?

*this is an exaggeration in an attempt to make this post more awesome and hilarious. I actually only hear about it for a couple hours.

I’m not sure when the phrase “it is what it is” came on the scene but I feel like over the last year I hear it every day from someone. I can’t quite put my finger on why but it bugs me. It’s the equivalent of saying nothing.

I feel like I usually hear it coming from the puffy mouth of a bikini-clad slut right after she barfs in the refrigerator on “Rock of Love” or some other reality TV whore-fest.

I have a cold, I feel like shit and that’s all I feel like writing. I need a nap. Sorry, it is what it is.

Unfortunately my friend sent me a link to these “Talking Head Tables” yesterday and now I’m pretty sure our friendship is over. I don’t want to live in a world where this exists. I’m not kidding, one of us has to go. It’s me or the guy who makes his living dressed as a pile of shit.

I quit.

Much like dropping my keys, an irrational rush of anger fills my body when it’s windy. I HATE WIND!

I once heard about a small community of settlers in the west who went insane because the wind never stopped blowing. I tried to find information on this but couldn’t. Well, by try I mean I googled “wind makes settlers crazy” and when the top result was not what I was looking for I gave up. I’m sure it’s true though.

*My friend and editor of this blog (yes, I need an editor) found it here.

It’s like God is teasing you and trying to fuck with your mind. I’m sure he had a big ‘ol laugh while those pioneers were running around pulling their hair out and watching that hair blow away. God is mean.

Fuck you wind.

Please make it stop. I beg you to wake me from this nightmare and tell me I have been in a coma for 5 years. In a gentle, caring voice explain to me that while in my coma my brain invented an entire universe that does not actually exist. Put your hand on the side of my face and tell me this Ashton Kutcher monster existed only in my hang-gliding-accident-coma-mind and I am free now. Tell me I am free to live in a world without Ashton Kutcher. Is that you ma? I’m back ma, your little baby boy is alive!