You just made my list!

Can’t I just walk to Old Navy and return these cargo pants in peace without seeing your fat lazy ass getting molested by a robot in front of Cinnabon?

I don’t need to see you on the brink of an orgasm while you sit there getting a happy ending from a La-Z-Boy in your Everybody Loves Raymond T-shirt. And for the love of God, can you PLEASE put your shoes (Crocs) back on? Your dirty Frito toenails are ruining my appetite for Sbarro.

Is this “massage” a wise investment? Can you really relax while basking in the glow of The Cell Phone Zone? Luckily, you won’t need massage oil because the sweat of every Insane Clown Posse fan who preceded you keeps your little robot chair nice and lubed.

Congratulations, you found a way to make shopping malls even more horrible.

You can have my eye-liner when you pry it from my cold, incredibly soft dead hand!

Howdy. Let’s get one thing straight right now partner… I love gay people, I have many gay friends and this has nothing to do with homophobia, but come on guys, let’s butch it up a bit.

How can I take you seriously when you are singing about beer and horses if the cowboy from the Village People makes you look like Isaac Mizrahi? It’s not even about looking “gay,” I guess it’s really more about looking like women while trying to act like tough cowboys. I want my country singers to exist solely on a diet of whiskey, pills, beer, beef jerky and cigarettes. I want a stinky cloud of body odor and hooker’s crotch to linger in the air when they walk out of a room and I want to feel like less of a man for even standing in their presence.

It seems strange that your average southern male country fan would kick the ass of any gay man but then turns around and worships these overly-groomed fancy lads who look they they just stepped out of a 1991 gay porno. Although, let me give HUGE props to Rascal Flatts for actually having the balls to write a song in favor of being who you really are, gay or straight. The song sucks donkey balls but it’s very cool that a hit country band with plenty to lose would have the guts to do such a thing.

So come on dudes, man up or Johnny Cash’s zombie corpse will rise up and kick you in your freshly waxed balls.

I quit.

When you “double down” in the game of blackjack you are essentially doubling your risk with the hopes of doubling your reward.* When you force Kentucky Fried Chicken’s latest crime against humanity, the Double Down sandwich, down your gaping maw you are doubling your toilet’s reward.

Is it possible KFC is playing an elaborate, multimillion dollar prank on the world? Is this one of Andy Samberg’s HILARIOUS Digital Shorts? Even Kentucky Fried Chicken needs to convince themselves this monstrosity is not just a bad dream. The first sentence out of their greasy mouths on the official Double Down page is “The new KFC Double Down sandwich is real!” Even they can’t believe how fucking disgusting people are. I would not be surprised if they started pushing the limits even further just to see what they can get away with. Chicken fat shakes? Napkins made out of chicken skin? Perhaps they can bypass the whole eating thing and just force grease up your ass with a giant hose.

The thing I love about how uneducated we** are about food is that I actually found a few girlie “diet” websites taking about what a great diet sandwich this will be because it doesn’t have bread, A.K.A. carbs. Do I even need to waste my time dissecting this theory? TWO SLABS OF FRIED CHICKEN, TWO STRIPS OF BACON, TWO MELTED SLICES OF CHEESE AND THE “COLONEL’S SAUCE!” I’m going to get into those skinny jeans by June!

I’m exhausted just from looking at the photo of this piece of shit.

*Shut up, I realize this is not technically correct but I’m not writing a Guide to Blackjack here!

** Not me, I’m a genius.

Just when you thought the “singing bass” phenomenon of 1998 that swept its way through every trailer park in America had finally gone away.

Recently I received a Bed Bath & Beyond catalog in the mail proudly selling this HILARIOUS singing fish and the ad read “From the hit McDonald’s Commercial.” I can already hear Michael Ian Black’s snarky comments about this “hit commercial” on I Love The 2010s.

But why go all the way to Bed Bath & Beyond when you can pick this gem up at the local drug store during your weekly visit for Slim Jims, diarrhea medicine and cigarettes?

Please explain to me why a fish would be irate that someone stole his fish sandwich. Why the fuck is a fish eating a fish sandwich in the first place? Or is the Filet-O-Fish he is lamenting over actually one of his family members who could not escape McDonald’s fishing boats? Is this actually a tragic song sung by a grieving fish fighting to retrieve the corpse of his dead mother? Is the real tragedy that this poor fish is desperately appealing to any shred of humanity left in our souls to help with his quest to give his mother a proper burial but all we do is laugh and sing along like a bunch of masturbating monkeys? And most importantly, what could this “bonus track” possibly be? AND most importantly-er, why do I ever leave the house?

At least this fish lip-syncs better those Celtic Thunder dick heads.

The people of Gary welcome you. They welcome you with their Flaming Hot Cheeto-filled shit!

I fucking HATE Indiana. If you are from Indiana, I am sorry… I am sorry you are from Indiana!

Indiana’s official state motto is “The Crossroads of America.” In other words, “Nothing to see here, just keep on driving to your more awesome destination.” I am willing to declare that there is nothing worthwhile in the entire state. Not a single thing! I have never driven through Indiana without contemplating suicide the entire painful ride. The only thing that stops me from driving head-on into an oncoming 18-wheeler is the fear that my corpse would be fed to raccoons by the local authorities.

I guess if you like factories that look like they are from the dreams of a German child locked in an iron lung circa 1929, or endless cornfields broken up by shitty towns with the same 10 fast food chains, then Indiana is your kind of place. I know what you’re thinking, other states fit that description, but the difference is they ALSO have at least one reason to visit. Indiana is just unpleasant from border to border. It achieves a level of suckdom that no other state I have visited comes close to. Don’t try to tell me Indianapolis or the dunes are enough to save it. Indianapolis sucks gorilla scrotum and the dunes are surrounded by the rest of Indiana, so they lose too.

I hate Indiana.

Hey, who took a dump in my burrito?

Just when I thought it was impossible to make wraps suck any more, McDonald’s has decided to shove a Big Mac up my wrap hole. I’m picturing the people in charge of developing new “food” at McDonald’s slumped in their chairs and just sort of lazily tossing crap from the garbage onto a table and saying “Um, I don’t know, I guess I would eat it if I was forced to. Steve, what do you think? I’m too drunk to care.” What’s next? Big Mac milkshake? Just toss some chocolate chips on that sucker – BOOM – meat cookies!

I also really love it when food brags that it’s made from FOOD! Congratulations Big Mac, your beef is made from beef. Way to go Easy Cheese, you’re made from cheese. Honestly though, I think most Americans would be just as happy to eat a Big Mac if it advertised “Made with some meat.”

Ba da ba ba ba, I have violent diarrhea!

Much like the Terminator, you can be sure that after you eat Wendy’s “Baconator” it too will be back.

Do I really need to “conquer” my food? Ted Nugent and Sarah Palin may love to bring their food to its knees, but I just need something that will go down and come out the other end without trying to kill me in the process. Don’t get me wrong, I hate fussy food, but I also don’t need a fucking pizza on top of my pretzel. How in the hell am I supposed to walk around the mall and impress 18-year-old girls (or their moms) when I’m trying to balance a pizza on top of my God damn pretzel? I’m already carrying 4 bags from Hot Topic!

A Triple Baconator clocks in at:
1330 calories
86 grams of fat
780 calories coming from fat.

Let me put that into perspective for your fat ass… a Big Mac has 540 calories with 29 grams of fat and 260 calories from fat. In other words, a Triple Baconator is like eating 2.5 Big Macs. The recommended caloric intake for a 25 year old male who is 6 feet / 175 lbs is about 2500-2900 depending on how active they are. So let’s add medium fries and a large Coke to your Wendy’s order, please drive to the first window. Congratulations you just consumed 2020 calories and 106 grams of fat in ONE MEAL! I’m sweating just from the thought of it.

Your body literally does need to conquer that son-of-a-bitch!

If you can’t live without your precious Baconator, you might as well class it up a bit.

I thought we were done with this ridiculous idiot. There is nothing more that needs to be said about this moronic dolt, so instead I will rank the cast of Friends from best to worst.

Joey Tribbiani
This is a no-brainer. I mean come on, it’s Joey! He’s clearly the most lovable friend. He’s an actor, a cocksman and he got his head stuck in a turkey.

Monica Geller
Sure, Monica is a neat freak and highly competitive but she’s also fun. She’s one of the guys. She’ll kick your ass at ping pong or Ms. Pac-Man and look good while doing it. She gets points taken off for banging Chandler though. That’s just gross.

Ross Geller
The spot for the third best friend is almost a tie but Ross squeaks by for his goofy antics. Who can forget the leather pants incident or the spray tan fiasco? Plus, he had a pet monkey and that’s worth a lot in my book. Points deducted for being in love with Rachel and for all his serious, dramatic moments. Blah.

Chandler Bing
Could Chandler BE anymore in fourth place? The Chandler and Joey roommate years were great. They had a pet duck and for a while their only piece of furniture was a canoe. Let’s not forget his romance with the lovely Janice, who I believe is his true soul mate. Chandler could have taken the third spot if not for all those hideous vests he wore over the years. Plus he got fat once he started dating Monica. Come on Chandler, Mon deserves better!


Phoebe Buffay
Sorry Phoebe, but as a hippie you must rank low on the list. When her mother committed suicide it must have been incredibly difficult for Phoebe and her twin sister Ursula so I feel a little guilty ranking her so low.


Rachel Green
Rachel Sucks.