You just made my list!

I spent most of the night helping my girlfriend (sorry ladies) remove a virus from her PC, so NO POST FOR YOU!

I hate PCs. I hate every single thing about PCs!

Discuss.

You know, just because you are an “emergency” vehicle trying to “save someone’s life” it doesn’t mean you have the right to make me miss my turn at the green light. I mean come on, I sat there forever in a long line of cars watching the lights go from red to green, red to green, red to green until FINALLY it was my turn to sniff the sweet aroma of green light freedom. I fantasized about this moment for the last 5 minutes and even planned on changing my Facebook status to “Woo hoo, finally made it through the intersection. Thank you Mr. Green Light!” but you and your gaudy, flashy vehicle just HAD to be there at the same time and ruin everything!

Fuck you ambulance, what’s the rush? And fuck you dying person in the back of the ambulance too. What, the whole world has to bow to you as you parade around the city in that kickass adjustable bed like some big shot? “Oooooo, look at me, I’m Donald Trump.” Maybe I would like someone to drive my lazy ass around, ever think of that? Selfish prick.

I hope you know I’m secretly hoping you die. Yeah that’s right, you make me miss the first 2 minutes of “The Biggest Loser” and I pray for your death. Seems totally fair and rational to me. You inconvenience me, so I hope you are inconvenienced by an exploding heart.

Ahhhhh, that feels much better.

Oh boy, I’m ready for the hate mail to pour in on this one. “You’re a jerk and you live in your mom’s basement and these dolls are beautiful and you’re just jealous that nobody ever loved you, I hope you never have kids, blah blah blah.” There I just saved you all that time.

I’m forced to write this while sitting on the toilet because it’s impossible to look at these creepy dolls without shitting at least a tiny bit. I should have warned you! I’m sorry you now have poop-filled pants.

OK, this shit is fucked up! First of all, these dolls are referred to as “Reborn Babies” and there’s a whole subculture of insane psychopaths buying and making these creepy plastic monsters. The process of making a realistic baby doll is known as “reborning” or “newborning” and it usually takes place in the darkest corner of Hell. Even Satan is like “Um… yeah, I’m going to go see what Hitler and Dahmer are up to for a few hours while you gals finish up… um… whatever it is exactly that… uh, you’re doing over there.” Then the great beast slowly backs out of the room timidly.

At least that’s how I imagine it.

Yikes…

So, I’m watching “Check Please” on PBS, trying to fight the urge to nap, when all of a sudden Comcast is nice enough to offer me a chance to pledge $40 with my remote while I sit on my lazy ass. Thanks Comcast and PBS but, what are the words I’m searching for… um… go fuck yourself!

I didn’t think it was possible for PBS to find another way to ask for my money. The other night I climbed into bed and was startled to find Charlie Rose hiding under the covers. After 45 minutes of negotiating I agreed to pledge $63 and he agreed to not enter my house for a minimum of three months. Look PBS, I don’t mind your normal pledge drives because, in Chicago at least, that means a kickass Geoffrey Baer marathon, but do you really need to pop your high-tech “will work for food” message over one of your own program. It’s annoying to the viewer and it’s disrespectful to the idiots fighting over linguine with clams on Check Please.

Believe it or not, it actually gets worse than this. A few weeks ago I was watching Friends… yeah, THAT Friends, the one you know you secretly like but are too much of a pussy to just come out and love it in the open. Just give in and embrace the warm glow of Friends. ANYWAY, I was watching the gang down at Central Perk be hilarious and awesome, when all of a sudden a giant fucking ad pops up on the lower 1/3 of the screen. I’m not talking about the typical “Stay tuned, the Jim Belushi train wreck is up next” kind of ad. No no no, this was an ad for something COMPLETELY unrelated to the network. I can’t remember what it was but I created this simulation for you…

Are you understanding the severity of the situation here? Networks are starting to pop up ads for crap DURING shows. What the hell is this, YouTube? And what kind of a psycho, anti-American, son-of-a-bitch has the balls to interrupt the brilliant pacing and comedy magic that oozes from every episode of Friends?

I feel like punching a baby!

Let’s play a game! It’s called “See if you can spot the new Gap logo.” Don’t get cocky and think it’s going to be easy, the team that did the redesign used a computer. Yeah, a computer to make a logo, can you even believe that? I did some research on AOL and I’m pretty sure they used a program called “Excel” by a computer software company called “Microsoft.” Whatever they used, the results are incredible!!!

Ready? Set? FIND THE NEW GAP LOGO!

Bullshit.

What’s worse than taking a nap? Not taking a nap! At least that’s how it feels at the time. And therein lies the dilemma, the catch-22, the reason I KNOW there is no God!

I hate naps. I HATE NAPS! I hate naps and yet I can’t stop myself from falling under their spell. It’s like naps are a super hot naked girl with every possible STD coursing through her perfect body and I’m the guy who says, “Well, I don’t have a condom but… maybe just a little oral, anal and vaginal sex. Possibly some needle sharing. What the heck, I’ll go ahead and drink some blood while I’m at it.”

I’m powerless when faced with the cozy, couchy siren song of naps. I think to myself, “This time it will be better. This time I won’t wake up wanting to murder my own family.” But no, I have never woken from a nap feeling anything other than miserable… miserable, confused, hot, cranky, angry, bewildered, sweaty, demoralized and filled with regret. I wake with my heart pounding and dullness that can only be described as abhorrent.

Oh, and look out world when I start my nap in daylight and awake to total darkness.

I would rather spend an entire day with Guy Fieri listening to Zoot Suit Riot than take a nap.

10 easy steps to becoming a Juggalo:

1. Be white. The whiter the better. Try to be almost clear if possible.

2. Be drunk and/or high at least 65% of any given day.

3. Be so incredibly stupid that when you aren’t drunk and/or high it’s impossible to tell the difference.

4. Be poor.

5. Be shaped like a beanbag chair. Alternatively, be shockingly skinny from crystal meth abuse.

6. Have lots of free time. Don’t let bullshit like school or a job get in the way of your Juggalo activities. That fat face isn’t going to paint itself.

7. Love to braid your hair.

8. Have crooked hands. I don’t know what it is but anytime I see a photo of a Juggalo their hands and fingers are all twisted up. I wonder if this is caused by a steady diet of Faygo, off-brand beef sticks and video games.

9. Be in a wheelchair. Juggalos in wheelchairs get extra bonus points!

10. Be amazed and perplexed by magnets.

Gallery of parental failure:

“Water, fire, air and dirt. Fucking magnets, how do they work?”

You son-of-a-bitch.

Just look at how cool you think you are, coconut. You think just because you are occasionally filled with boobs we should all give a shit about you. Here’s an idea, don’t taste like paste.

I sure do love foods that require power tools to eat. After 30 minutes of pounding and smashing, how do you reward me… with your shitty “milk” and your shittier “meat.” Fuck off you round jerk.

You ruin everything you touch (with ONE exception). Oh, and you kill people! All you fans of coconuts just think about that for a second, your precious coconut with the cute little face on the shell wouldn’t think twice about killing your stupid ass.

So if you want to eat an impossible to open, shitty tasting seed with a crappy texture, have fun, I’ll be eating a delicious pluot in my car.