You just made my list!

Because I’m awesome, I’ve been working 14 hour days… everyone wants a piece of my talent. Of course this means you, my flock, suffer. For this, I am sort of sorry.

Blah blah blah, Paula Deen, bacon, butter, mayonnaise, fat, loud, giant head, scary eyes, more butter… You get the point.

If you have ever doubted this woman’s talent, just check out this advanced recipe for English Peas only a pro could come up with.

Fuck off, I’m going to bed.

They sang…

They laughed…

They played…

Hey, these dapper dudes seem pretty fun. Who doesn’t love a good joke and a quick ride on some children’s playground equipment? Who are these festive people and where did they get those cute boots?

…And murdered millions!

WHAT? I – did – not – see – that – coming!

Jeeze, Time Life, you had me reaching for my credit card there for a second. Coming off Christmas day, where I watched “A Christmas Story” for approximately six hours in a row, I guess I’m in a 1940s kind of mood, so when I saw the happy old-timey footage and heard the lovely children’s chorus, I felt all warm and cozy inside.

Well I’ll tell you what, mister, I was not ready for the twist ending and I will NOT be buying the DVD! Although, it is free shipping…

If you are one of the tragic gentlemen who choose this horrifying fashion accessory but do not know what vibe you are giving off, consider this… while searching for photos of men wearing choker necklaces I was only able to find photos of shirtless man-boys. I shouldn’t have to say anything else, but I will.

Lest ye think I am calling you and your little leather noodle gay, think again, I am calling you douchey. Even the most fabulous gay cage dancer could not pull this look off.

It is curious that every photo I found to illustrate my point ended up being so homoerotic because I normally associate these chokers with suburban IT guys who suffer from premature balding. They troubleshoot your Microsoft Office issues by day and play in Puddle of Mudd cover bands by night. They drink Miller Vortex and they have strong opinions about Battlestar Galactica.

Either that or they are super gay, I can’t tell the difference anymore.

Hey building, thanks for making me look like a dick every time I try to go into you. Here’s an idea, you’ve got two doors, keep them BOTH fucking unlocked! You’re an asshole, building.

What is the point of this little game of cat and mouse? Are you trying to appeal to the gambler in all of us? Should a bolt of adrenaline rush through my body as I approach your precious doors, not knowing if I will be allowed to enter the promised land or be left tugging an immovable door like some big dumb idiot? Perhaps if you actually rewarded me with money when I am lucky enough to choose the correct door I would be more excited about your dumb little game of chance. It’s like you are the older kid sitting on my chest, beating me with my own hands while saying “Stop hitting yourself, why are you hitting yourself?”

Stop fucking with me, building, I just want to go see my dentist without looking like a jerkwad.

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!”

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.

You see this shit?

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.

Fuck you winter.

FUCK!

Why? Why is Thomas Cruise Mapother IV so awesome when all I want to do is hate him?

It’s easy to despise Tom Cruise when he’s jumping on your couch and babbling on and on about space monsters, but then, out of nowhere, the guy has the nerve to be so insanely kickass that we have no choice but to engage in a worldwide slow clap.

It’s hard to decide on the appropriate emotion when his name is spoken. Instantly I think about what a bag of turds the guy was when he was telling Brooke Shields to just get over her depression already and climb aboard the Millennium Falcon with him, and then WHAM, I catch a rerun of “TAPS” or “Risky Business” on cable and suddenly I just want to squeeze those fat cheeks and initiate the most monumental tickle-fight the known universe has ever seen. He’s like an abusive boyfriend, he hits me because he loves me so much. MAVERICK!

While the rest of our lazy asses were sitting at Outback Steakhouse jamming Bloomin’ Onions into our greasy mouths, this fucking guy was dangling from the world’s tallest building in Dubai. Guess what? I’d be afraid to even GO to Dubai because I hear you go to jail for holding hands in public. I like holding hands, sue me.

Oh, by the way, he remained as cool as his character in “Cocktail” while hanging from that tiny rope 2000 feet in the air. What have YOU done lately?

God damn you Cruise.

UPDATE!

Here are some stunt men at the top of the same building, scouting locations for the film. Oh and by the way, ONE GUY ISN’T EVEN WEARING A SAFETY HARNESSES! Cut your dick off because these guys win.