You just made my list!

Oh, hi corn, it’s nice to see you again. I haven’t seen you since the BBQ. Did you enjoy your trip through my body?

Remind me again why I even bother eating corn-on-the-cob. I don’t even like the way it tastes that much and I hate the way it gets stuck between my teeth. Then, corn has the audacity, the arrogance, the fucking GALL to just scoot right through me without doing shit. Literally! Ooooh, I get so mad when I see those perfect, little, yellow kernels glaring up at me from the toilet. I can almost see their tiny middle fingers raised high in my direction.

Guess what corn? FUCK YOU!*

*popcorn not included, popcorn is awesome.

“We will not be quiet!
We will not try to blend in!
We will not disappear in the background or play second fiddle!
We’re not like the others, we won’t ever try to be!”

You might think this battle cry was overheard at a recent gay marriage rally but NO, you stupid idiot, that’s your mayonnaise talking, bitch!

Fuck you world, I love Miracle Whip and if you don’t like it you can eat my creamy, white shit. Don’t try and tell ME and MY generation what condiments we should eat. Take your old man sandwich spread and shove it up your old man ass because guess what motherfucker, I’m going to eat Miracle Whip with a spoon while getting a mohawk. Look dude, I don’t care if I spill a little M-Whip on my Ron Paul poster, because that’s the way it goes man when you are fucking vibing on a jar of the Whip! Now if you will excuse me, I have to comb my ironic mustache and down a little Whip before going to my bike messenger job. Jealous?

You can have my Miracle Whip when you pry it from my COLD, DEAD, FAT HAND!

The Miracle Whip commercial that tells you what’s up, bitch! It’s on Facebook because that’s how my generation rolls!!!

Don’t be boring! You wouldn’t understand, old Man.

Why is it when I order spaghetti, penne or gnocchi in an Italian restaurant, they give me a bowl the size of an above-ground pool, but when I order ravioli I am handed a plate so void of food I think I might be part of a hilarious hidden-camera prank show? Remind me again why these 4 raviolis are more expensive than a bathtub full of noodles? I’m hungry god damn it, now go back into that kitchen and get me some more ravi-fucking-oli!

If you know me personally, there is a good chance you know that I hate to poop. You may also know that I can go several days without pooping. Those poop-free days feel like a gift from God. I would imagine it feels not unlike getting a call from the Governor that spares you from the electric chair.

I am not trying to be funny or outrageous with these claims, I honestly hate everything about pooping. People often try to convince me that “pooping feels soooo good” but I will never understand how forcing a tube of warm, smelly feces out of my butthole is supposed to feel good. I feel sad and humiliated while taking a dump. You know the way most dogs look embarrassed when pooping in public? I’m sure I look exactly the same every time I poop.

Pooping at home is bad enough but the panic I feel when I realize I am going to have to shit in a public bathroom is unrivaled. Taking a shit in an airport might be the worst thing to ever happen in my life. NO, pooping on the plane is even worse.

I need to go lie down.

p.s. I love farting! I just wanted to clear that up.

As I mentioned, I am in the middle of a huge project and until it’s done I’m pretty much not leaving my home office. I no longer sleep or shower and I’m working an average of 15 hours each day. I know, cry you a river.

A byproduct of this schedule is that I’m not really eating healthy. Actually, I’m not really eating. Look at this gem of a meal I “cooked” today. Are you getting hungry yet? NO, I didn’t scan this photo from a cookbook!

I had some nacho chips but none of the other necessary nacho ingredients but I wasn’t going to let that stop me. Way in the back of the fridge I found a 1/4 block of sharp cheddar. Sure, it was moldy but I was able to cut right around that shit and begin to construct my glorious nachos! Things were not looking good but I still had faith that when I pulled that plate out of the microwave somehow a beautiful plate of nachos would appear. Not unlike when Jesus broke a magic loaf of bread into enough pieces to feed 1,000 people! Is that how that story goes?

Well, unlike Jesus, I fucked up my magic meal. I accidentally left my ghetto nachos in the microwave for 2 minutes, turning my cheese into some form of orange lava rock. I ate them anyway.

I’M SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO THINKS THIS IS BORING! STOP READING BLOGS, THEY ARE ALL BORING!

Remind me again why I just spent 5 minutes segmenting your sour ass.

You suck, grapefruit, and I hate your sucky juice. Have you ever taken a big swig of grapefruit juice thinking it was orange juice? It’s like a punch in your flavor balls! It’s like leaning in to kiss (insert the person you are most attracted to here) and as your lips meet and your tongues mingle, this person suddenly turns into your mom! You pull away and think, “what the fucking fuck was just in my mouth?” In fact, I would rather make out with my mom than drink a glass of grapefruit juice.*

It’s not just the juice that pisses me off. I would conservatively estimate that segmenting a grapefruit half takes on average 45 minutes. And for what, one minute of sour disappointment? Fuck off grapefruit. Stop thinking you are as awesome as your cousin the almighty orange. You are just embarrassing yourself. You sicken me.

*What is wrong with me?

Sorry, I’m human!

OK, here’s the deal. I have a few sites all running on the same server and due to my awesomeness I am starting to overwork the computer machine. You see, the internet is a series of tubes and… forget it, you can’t possibly understand. Anyway, it has made working on the site difficult BUT the complaining will resume Monday!!!

In the meantime, here’s a funny story. In high school I was dating a girl over the summer who moved to my town from Texas. About a week after school started I took her on a date to Fuddruckers. Nothing says “class” and “romance” like a 4lb cheeseburger. So as I’m taking my first bite she tells me that she’s dumping me. Couldn’t she have waited until after I ate my giant burger? Or here’s an idea, tell me BEFORE we get to Fuddruckers and I spend my lawn mowing money on your sorry ass. The best part however is that she casually told me she was breaking up with me because I was not popular enough. Let me tell you, that was a feel-good moment.

Not popular enough? ME?!?

Oh yeah, well I’m so popular now that I’m crashing servers! I’m too popular for technology to even fucking handle it!

When I reread this I realize she made the right choice.

I always thought Indiana had the worst state slogan with their lame “Crossroads of America,” which basically means “Nothing to See Here, Keep Driving.” Well Indiana, you should thank Wisconsin for announcing today that their new official slogan is “Live Like You Mean It!”

I just about fell off my chair* when I heard this hilarious news. Have you ever been to Wisconsin? Has the Wisconsin Board of Tourism ever been to Wisconsin?!? Wisconsin is not a bad place, in fact I like a lot of things about Wisconsin, but it’s hardly a seize-the-day kind of place. Maybe seize-the-nachos and beer. Carpe diem? Nope.

Now if you are from Wisconsin and think I am unfairly categorizing Wisconsinites as “fat” please do not waste your breath. I have lived in the Midwest my entire life so I know firsthand what a bunch of fat fucks we (not me) are. We like our meat, we like our cheese and we like our beer. Then we like some more meat, some more cheese and 6 more beers. If you give us a salad it fucking better be covered in cheese and bacon or someone is getting hurt.

Back to the topic… how exactly are people from Wisconsin meant to live? What if they don’t “mean it,” should they give up hope and sit around getting fat and drunk? Hey, that sounds a lot like Wisconsin! Perhaps a better slogan would be something like “Mean to Live but Have Another Beer Instead.”

*gold-plated throne