You just made my list!

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.

While the rest of you jerks were out having fun this Halloween weekend I was in bed for 2 days straight with some mystery illness that will most likely kill me by Thursday. One of the many perks to being sick is watching things on TV that would normally have you diving for the remote. When the new TLC program “Mall Cops: Mall of America” soiled itself all over my TV screen, it was almost like one of those nightmares where a psycho killer is approaching with a huge knife but you stand there paralyzed, unable to move. I felt like James Caan in Misery and these mall cops were my own personal Kathy Bates whacking me across the shins with their incredibly boring existence.

As you might have deduced from the title, Mall Cops: Mall of America follows mall security guards as they patrol the gritty, mean streets of the largest mall in America. Now, try to imagine how boring that sounds. Got it? Now, take your prediction and make it 100 times more boring and you are almost there.

What I am about to write is real. I did not make any of this up, this is what really happened in the one hour program…

– Some teen star named Demi Lovato is going to sign autographs but not every fan could get a wristband. This causes many prepubescent tears.

– An approaching storm might cause the autograph signing to be canceled. Why? Because lightning might be able to come inside the mall? Huh?

– A mall cop needs to check the badges of some construction workers. They all have badges. Carry on.

– A call for medical assistance rings out over the radio! A mall cop rushes through the mall with a lifesaving kit! The victim is a 6-year-old with a tiny scrape on his leg. She gives him two Band-aids because “sometimes kids like two Band-aids.”

– Storm approaching! Where’s Demi? Girls crying! Mothers bitching and whining!

– The manager of an ice cream store has an expired badge. He was warned about this before, so out he goes. The fate of the ice cream is unknown.

– An old lady cries because she can’t find her car. Bicycle mall cops find it for her.

– A creepy couple gets married at the Mall of America wedding chapel. The bride and groom want to ride the log flume. The mall cops are worried her long dress could be dangerous on the ride. They ride the logs without incident.

– The storm clears and 17-year-old Demi Lovato arrives looking like a 29-year-old prostitute. She signs autographs without incident.

– A mall cop finds a lost baby sock and immediately goes on patrol searching for a baby wearing only one sock. Sadly, the tiny sock is never reunited with its family.

I’m going back to bed.

Well, I guess it’s time to write about these crimes against humanity because there is a song sweeping the nation all about them. Who am I kidding? I’m using the fact that there is this stupid song as an excuse to put very little effort into this. LEAVE ME ALONE, I’M BUSY!

The truth is that I really do hate these fast food combo restaurants. How can I possibly decide between Taco Bell diarrhea or E. Coli from the Pizza Hut salad bar? I won’t choose so don’t ask!

Now, let’s talk about this Pizza Hut and Taco Bell song by Das Racist. I know nothing about this duo, but they scream New York ironic hipster to me. You know what really makes me mad about this song? I fucking LIKE it! I deserve to have my ears removed for tolerating this shit.

Sorry this post sucked. I hate myself.

Did you know people still wear these? I thought they had all been retired to thrift stores, only to be resurrected for the occasional “bad sweater party,” but the other day while filling my car with gas I saw one of these walking by on an actual human. I poured 3 gallons of gas all over my shoes before I snapped back to reality. Did I really just see that? It’s burned into my memory like that famous photo of Big Foot casually walking through the woods, only this Sasquatch looked like he had been barfed on by a unicorn.

Speaking of barfing up a Cosby Sweater, check out #1.

Anyhoo… How is it possible that a living, breathing human with eyes could see one of these monstrosities and think, “Oh yeah. I need a sweater that looks like it’s made form the tears of 1000 clowns.” The bigger mystery is who invented this style of sweater? Wait, and even bigger question is why are they still being produced?

I bet if you put that douchebag Guy Fieri in a giant blender the end result would look remarkably like a Cosby Sweater.

Come on, joke’s over everyone.

How is it possible that I still see people walking around with pantyhose on their heads? Is this fashion nightmare here to stay? Is it as ingrained into popular culture as the baseball hat or Tasmanian Devil tattoos? Why am I the last awesome person left on this godforsaken planet?!?

I especially like white guys who wear do-rags. Nothing says “I got fired from Outback Steakhouse for masturbating on my lunch break in the janitor’s closet” like a white guy in a do-rag. And don’t think you Larry The Cable Guy lovin’, Keysotne Light drinkin’, Nickelback listenin’, Harley ridin’ sum bitches are gonna sneak by unnoticed. The white trash do-rags come pre-tied! How hard is it tie a panty on your head? At least ghetto dudes take the time to tie their own do-rags, but you American Chopper fans are apparently too busy searching for that Slim Jim that rolled under the couch to be bothered.

In summation, you look like an asshole with that thing on your head. Unless you are a pirate or you have cancer. Cancer patients are allowed to rag it up.

If only there was a way to make my white trash house more white trashier. Hmmmmmm, maybe 30 branches covered in pink carpet will do the trick!

Listen up, I love cats, I really do. If you have never owned a cat you are probably thinking up different ways to call me gay right now. Well joke’s on you buddy because cats rule, end of story. I also understand the desire to give your cat a few cuddly areas in the house for napping and looking cute purposes. Yeah, that’s right, I find it endlessly adorable to watch cats sleep, fuck you. But I will never understand the desire to completely strip what little dignity your shitty living room has left by shoving some giant cat jungle gym up its ass. Sure, Snickers and Doodles might like to climb it and and snooze, but they would be equally happy on your Harley-Davidson pillows or your Dora the Explorer fleece blanket that you keep on your matching La-Z-Boys.

If I have to hear one more thing about these two drug-filled, incestuous, creepy turds fucking each other, I’m going to punch YOU in the face. I might even punch myself in the face. When I first learned that Mackenzie Phillips and her dad had consensual sex for 10 years, including the night before her wedding, I shit my pants, put on a new pair of pants and shit those pants. Isn’t it bad luck to fuck your dad the night before your wedding? I thought I read that in Brides Magazine. I don’t want to hear another word about it, I’m trying to eat here!

“Bride down. Trample her! KILL HER!”

I may have to drink about 30 beers to get through this one. There is nothing that would make me act like these cackling hens. These psychos run around like they have flies buzzing around their eyes and some lifesaving U.N. helicopter is hovering above, dropping rice and water. You could fill a room with amazing FREE vintage guitars and I would STILL refuse to scream and claw my way over my fellow man to get one.

Shouldn’t buying a wedding dress be a nice, calm, sweet memory to be shared with your mother and a few close friends? Aren’t you supposed to sip Champagne and talk about your periods? Instead, these idiots put their little matching outfits on (annoying) and go Lord of the Flies all over each other. I don’t care if acting like a plundering pirate saves you a few hundred dollars, nothing is worth demeaning yourself like this.

I’m going to say this at the risk of offending all the women who are reading this, but this clip of the “Running of the Brides” is like an instructional video for how to make a guy’s balls shrink up into his body, forever. I’m just being honest here ladies, it’s shit like this that makes guys occasionally want to be as far away from you as possible. Not YOU personally, I’m talking about these assholes. Just watch the women in the bottom left corner as they selfishly guard their giant pile of dresses like a pack of wolves. CLASSY! Hey, where did my balls go?