You just made my list!

I have already written about what a hunk of ass shit the new Pepsi logo is but I feel it’s time to talk about the turd water contained within those ugly new cans. By the way, in the previous sentence I did not intend to write “ass shit” but I think it has a snappy ring to it, so it stays!

The official list of delicious colas is as follows:

#1 Coca-Cola – Some people call it Coke.
#2 Royal Crown Cola – RC is almost good enough to tie for 1st.
#3 Shitty generic colas – The kind you get after T-ball.
#4 Cola used in an enema procedure and then placed back in a can.
#5 Pepsi.

To be honest, a good root beer will kick the ass of a cola any day of the week, except pizza night… pizza needs cola like Ron Jeremy needs his mustache. Don’t give me this pizza and beer bullshit either. Yes, beer is awesome and yes pizza is awesome BUT pizza needs to be washed down with a freezing Coke or an RC. It’s science but you wouldn’t understand.

If I’m presented with the classic “Is Pepsi OK” question after ordering a Coke, I simply look the server in the eye and cordially say “Nope, I’ll stick with the original plan where I drink the world’s most famous soft drink that you clearly must have in your fine eatery. Now be gone with you and go get me that delicious Coke as per my original request.”

Fuck Pepsi.

Spoiler alert… Lost can suck my dick!

I just wasted six years of my life on smoke monsters, polar bears, “freckles,” punches to the face, slave ships, numbers, button pushing, hatches, people who see dead people, plane crashes, helicopter crashes, car crashes, spinal injuries, hot Australian girls who become less hot as time goes on, a giant foot, the fucking Dharma Initiative, Walt, temples, electromagnetism, disappearing islands, Tunisia, terrorists with puppy dog eyes, endless walking through the jungle, men who never shave but don’t grow beards, an excessive use of the word “dude,” Driveshaft concerts, skeletons, mercenaries, machine guns, Koreans who learn to speak English in two weeks, sex in cages, time travel, hydrogen bombs, a good guy in white, a bad guy in black and a motherfucking golden cave? And for what? What did it all mean? NOTHING! Absolutely nothing!

Just as I always suspected, the writers of Lost had no clue what was going on and never had a plan to connect any of their mystical dots. If I tried to list all the unanswered questions, plot holes and missing characters I would be here all night. FUCK YOU LOST, YOU OWE ME 6 YEARS!

I never even enjoyed watching the show, I accidentally started watching and only stuck with it because I wanted answers. I was just curious. Well, curiosity killed the cat and threw it into a magic cave until it turned into a smoke monster, whatever the hell that means!

Fuck you Lost, fuck you.

Finally there’s a way I can also not care about what your baby is doing.

Let’s see if I can describe this new invention without killing myself. Twoddler may look like your average Playskool activity center but this little piece of shit is hooked up to Twitter so every time little Susie moves the plastic piece with your face on it a tweet is sent to you saying something like “Hey asshole, look what I can do… randomly touch things.”

Am I the last sane person on this planet? If this takes off I’m moving to a cabin in the woods. I don’t want to live in a world where babies keep me up to date every minute of the day. “I C poopies on da floor. LOL.” Come to think of it, how can you tell if a tweet is from a baby or an adult with the ridiculous way people write these days? I’m guessing a baby could tweet something just as intelligent as, say, Miley Cyrus.

Let’s see if you can guess which of these tweets (I fucking hate that term) are from babies and which are from adults…

“jus ate sum soup”

“spendt da day on da couch in PJs – LMAO”

“life is a jurney, U just half 2 take the furst step”

“yo, yall need to see ma new crib”

See? What’s the difference? It’s all inane, utterly useless bullshit nobody needs to know.

Nap time!

There are times in life when we must balance comfort with money. Often times one’s financial situation wins this battle and you find a can of Milwaukee’s Best pressed up against your lips. But this is OK sometimes. It is entirely wrong, however, to find a stiff slab of cheap toilet paper pressed up against your butt lips!

There simply is no excuse for choosing toilet paper that feels about as soft as a lemon zester when perfectly good, triple ply quilted toilet paper is sitting right there on the shelf. What is this, Russia? The great thing about being American is that we can smear our feces on toilet paper so luxurious a princess would gladly sleep upon it. Not the feces… she would gladly sleep on the toilet paper!

Pooping is already a horrible experience as far as I’m concerned, so why turn an ugly situation into more of a nightmare? I don’t want to hear about your budget or the environment or blah blah fucking blah. Grow up, buy some real toilet paper and watch your life change, you dirty ass (literally) hippie.

What’s that you ask? Which brand do I allow to touch my sweet bottom? I prefer Charmin Ultra Strong or Charmin Ultra Soft. I mean look at this… you can drag a 3 pound block of shit across your table and it won’t even rip!

How could Tiger Woods cheat on his wife?!? Oh, I’m so mad at him!

Wait I forgot, that’s not why I’m disgusted with Tiger. I literally could not care less about his quest for pussy. That’s his business. But what does concern me is his quest for Nickelback. Yeah that’s right, did you hear that Woods chose a fucking Nickelback concert for his FIRST public social outing? First he offended women around the globe with his propensity for porn poon and apparently now he’s trying to offend people with ears.

I guess at the very least we can all forget about the mistresses and the dirty text messages now because compared to singing along with “Photograph,” cheating on your wife is nothing. I would forgive this guy for murder before I would for going backstage to hang out with those agents of Satan. Imagine how disappointed Tiger must have been when he realized he was backstage at a Nickelback concert, the one place on earth guaranteed to be void of vagina, except of course for those residing in the ripped blue jeans of the band.

Now, on to more important things. Are you aware a bonafide music legend left a comment on yesterday’s post? Every one please say hello to Randy Jones of the Village People and make him feel welcomed. He’s one of us.

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.

Can someone please tell me who the fuck the “Beauty Gurus” are and why I want to kick them all in the teeth?

If you were like me, you’d be more awesome. You would also have no idea who the fuck this creepy little twerp is. That is until now, the moment when I proudly ruin your life.

I can’t stomach children who act like adults and I especially can’t stand kids who act like the kind of adults you would like to hit in the balls with a shovel. More often than not, “performer” kids end up fulfilling this role. While most kids are setting crap on fire and punching each other in a kickass Kung-Fu fashion, these horrifying turds are jazz-handsing their way to a life of Bedazzled vests and cats named “Lady Precious.” I’m not talking about the normal brand of show choir nerd, I’m talking about weirdos like this Anthony Gargiula who try to eye-fuck you while singing “Sexual Healing” at Six Flags. I just want to eat this fried dough in peace, so please stop making love to my ears and go check your Underoos for poopies.

Good luck making it through these clips without digging your eyes out and jamming them into your ears.