I’m currently trying to sell my house in the middle of the worst housing market since magical God created the Earth 6,000 years ago. The funny thing is that not only am I trying to sell my house, I’m also currently watching my entire life crumble to pieces before my very eyes. It has been a joyous year!!!
Needless to say, when my air conditioner decided to ice over and pour water all over my laundry room on the morning of our first realtor open house, I was a tad stressed. It’s not a situation where you want two realtors running around your house like busy ants, rearranging your shit and putting little signs everywhere. They were just doing their jobs, I understand that, but it’s not their job to be my therapist.
They meant well when they told me approximately 300 times to “not worry” and “relax” but it is literally IMPOSSIBLE to relax when you are dealing with the shit I’m dealing with. I’M GOING TO WORRY IF I FEEL LIKE FUCKING WORRYING!
They are perfectly nice people, but telling a stressed person to relax just makes them more stressed.
I know I should be happy for guys like Edward Williams who won big in the Kansas lottery TWICE this year, but all I can think when I see his, or any winner’s smiling face, is fuck you. Take that giant check and shove it up your money hole. This turd won $75,000 in September playing a scratch off ticket and just last week he won nearly $900,000 when he matched all the numbers in the “Super Kansas Cash” drawing. Once again, fuck you.
My level of jealousy for these people is sickening. I cannot play any form of the lottery because the second I buy my ticket I am CONVINCED I am going to win. There is no doubt in my mind I will soon be purchasing 4 white tigers (to eat) and a solid gold suit of armor that I will exclusively wear for no apparent reason. I don’t consider for a second that I might not win. I mentally prepare myself for all the begging and groveling my soon to be ex-friends will do at my feet and the various ways I will tell them to eat shit. Of course all my fantasies of delicious tiger sandwiches and diamond-encrusted toilet paper disappear as I realize, one by one, that I have not hit a single number.
So to all you big winners out there, let me be the first person to say, go fuck yourself.
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…
I have always hated American Idol but this season has taken me over the edge. For some reason I keep seeing it every week. Specifically I keep catching this season’s “rocker” Adam Lambert perform, and each time I want to dig my eyes out of my skull and shove them down my ears while smashing my face through the TV. I fucking hate the fuck out of this prancing turd and his eye makeup. I would spend every penny I own (which is like 207 pennies) just to have the chance to kick him in the smooth area where his balls should be.
Music is dead. No, the music industry is dead. Everyone, including supposed indie bands, are so fucking into their look and their image now. Even a band like the Strokes, who pretend to be dirty and disheveled, spend just as much time picking out their outfits as the American Idol douchewads. Fuck everyone, what happened to awesome, ugly, dirty, sweaty bands like the Minutemen or the Replacements?
If this clip of Adam Lambert taking a shit all over Johnny Cash doesn’t make you want to go on a killing spree then you need to kindly punch yourself in your penis and/or vagina.
This is one of those subjects that fills me with so much rage that I’m not convinced I can make it through without punching my computer in the face. It does not help that it’s past midnight and I am tired from drinking.
OK, I know you have seen, or at least heard of, Mtv’s Cribs. Well now they have a new version called “Teen Cribs” that makes me want to dig a hole and bury myself alive. You might think from the title that this program visits the homes of famous teenagers like the Jonas Brothers and shows how awesome they are and how bad you suck. Believe it or not, it’s actually much worse. Teen Cribs goes to the homes of rich families who happen to have teen children. Are you following me? These are just a bunch of random rich asshole teenagers! They are not famous and they have literally achieved nothing more than being lucky enough to fall out of the vagina of a rich woman.
Who the fucking fuck wants to watch some spoiled fuck with unruly hair take you on a tour of their parent’s mansion? No wonder this country is about to implode!
