You just made my list!

Have you ever seen someone and in less than a second you just know they are a tool? It’s a subtle observation because they basically look normal but maybe it’s something about their hair or their choice of tie that clues you into the fact that they suck. You just don’t like the cut of their jib!

Well this happened to me while waiting in line today at Jimmy John’s. From the beginning it was destined to be an annoying event. I walked in and stood behind a guy who was obviously in line. I mean, when you stand in front of the register at the “order here” sign it means you are in line, right? Turns out not always. After I realized this guy wasn’t doing shit I asked if he was, in fact, in line. He turned and looked at me as if I had just asked if I could fuck his wife and said “noooo” like I was an idiot for asking. Strike one. Then his douchey friend emerged from the back (probably pooping and not washing his hands) and I just knew instantly that this guy was trouble. Both of these guys looked “normal” in their Dockers and sensible hair cuts but I knew some shit was about to go down. Literally.

Like most Jimmy John’s this space was small and echoey so nobody had to strain to hear these guys discussing raw sewage and poop. It wasn’t so much that this discussion of human waste grossed me out (it obviously did a little), it was really more that I don’t understand jerks like this who have zero awareness of the world that exists 3 inches past their fat faces. How do you not know to move out of the way after you order? How do you not notice the humans standing behind you who obviously think you are in line? How do you not know that the lunch crowd does not want to hear about how your family’s smelly shit is backing up into the yard?

How did I get to be the smartest person on earth?

Hey guess what happens EVERY winter in Chicago… IT SNOWS!

Keeping this bit of trivia in mind, why does the local news act as if the sky is raining shards of glass and infected hypodermic needles every time a little snow is on the way? Fine, tell me a storm is on the way but do it like this… “Tonight in weather news, some snow is on the way, probably about 5 inches. You know what to do, so let’s leave it at that. On to other news about real things…”

All it takes is a little snow making its way towards our city and the news people start ejaculating all over each other. They will literally use up half of the news to discuss it. They might as well just run the same footage for each storm because year after year, storm after storm, it is always the same.

Here’s a handy how-to guide for creating your own TV snow report:

1) Go to the airport and talk to people in line whose flight has been canceled. Film some people sleeping on chairs and a family in Hawaiian shirts looking concerned. Roll some footage of the departure screen filled with the word “canceled,” that seems to get people worked up!

2) Show the Streets and Sanitation commissioner at a podium explaining that they will first plow and salt the main roads and then the side streets.

3) Interview a fat guy with a Ditka mustache who drives a snow plow. He will say something like “Looks like we will be workin’ true da night ta clear dees streets, whatever it takes.”

4) Cut to a hardware store and explain that a snow shovel can be used to move snow.

5) Interview people on the street about snow. They won’t have much to say but you can see their breath! Extra points if you can find a guy from Africa who has never seen snow before.

6) Footage of people getting blown over by the wind. Impactful and induces fear of wind, NICE!

7) Cut back to the weather guy (with visible erection) and refer to his desk as “Storm Center 3000”.

Repeat each time it snows.

Seriously? Huh? Not possible! NOT POSSIBLE! Someone wake me from this nightmare!

If you buy a treadmill for your child DCFS should remove them from your home and you should be immediately sterilized by a brutal smashing of said treadmill to your baby maker.

Just like when I discussed baby helmets, I am only referring to people who put normal, healthy kids on a treadmill. If they need baby-sized treadmills for some sort of physical therapy that’s fine, but if you would rather see your dumb kid taking a walk in your living room rather than playing outside like a normal human then there is something wrong with you and soon there will be something wrong with your child.

If my child asked me for one of these contraptions I would make them live outside in the wild for a week as punishment. Think of all the exercise little Bobby would get foraging for berries and building rudimentary shelters. Perhaps he will have to run from a family of rabid raccoons, I don’t know but that kid is going to lose at least 8 lbs without the aid of a god damn treadmill. Problem solved.

I know this makes me a dick but I just can’t stand wacky, public marriage proposals. When I see some turd at some at some sporting event publicly professing his turd love to some turdy woman I just want to throw my nachos at them. This is only a fantasy however because those nachos probably cost $12 dollars and I am going to literally lick that plastic tray clean to get my money’s worth.

So what makes me, the cheese licking tightwad, so much better than the aforementioned turd who simply wants to express his love in front of a bunch of drunks just so he can get on the news? I just am!

I can’t be the only person who does not feel the need to witness other people’s proposals. It’s a private moment so keep it the hell out of my nachos.

A friend of mine made me aware of this ass-munching, shit-for-brains, redneck today and I almost wish he hadn’t. This idiot, Mark Ciptak (pronounced Shit-Pack or possibly Shit-Tank), went behind his wife’s back and named his baby daughter “Sarah McCain Palin Ciptak” in order to “take one for the cause.” Sorry asshole, it was actually your poor kid who took one for the cause don’t you think? America, please say hello to Joe fucking Six Pack! I wonder what Sarah McCain Palin Ciptak will use as her stripper name in 18 years? Probably “Crystal” or “Cheyenne” like the rest of them.

Here’s what my friend said in his email, I thought it was funny…

“Way to go dipshit… maybe you can name your next kid “My Dad’s a Selfish Moron Who doesn’t Think About Anything Beyond the Next 2 Weeks Ciptak”… that is the next kid he has with his next wife. Make the most of your weekend visits with lil’ Sarah McCain Palin, fuckface.

There you can pretty much just cut and paste most of the above on your blog. Thanks for the credit… I guess i just made your list… sorta”

Maybe, MAYBE, if you are a girl under the age of 23 it’s forgivable for you to drink from one of these colorful dildos but come on guys, how could walking around like a toddler drinking out of a supersoaker possibly attract the opposite sex?

Call me crazy but I like to drink my beer out of a bottle not through a straw from a football. Gentlemen, please take a moment to think about some famous manly men. Now, try to imagine these men – Frank Sinatra, Johnny Cash, John Wayne, Sean Connery, the Marlboro Man – enjoying a fluorescent drink from a plastic Seattle Space Needle. Sinatra famously wouldn’t even sit down while wearing a tuxedo in an effort to keep his pants looking good and all I’m asking from you is to put your little toy down and drink like an adult. And while you’re at it, stop sweating so much. Why are you always sweating?

Full disclosure, I do not feel like writing anything today. I almost put myself on my list for deciding to write a fucking blog 5 days a week but that seemed stupid. Then I thought I could quickly fart out a post about what lying liars John McCain and Sarah Palin are but I’m too sick of their faces. So I flipped through my list, yes it is an ACTUAL list on paper, and tried to find the easiest thing to write about.

And that brings us to my disdain for people who think they can actually be jinxed by some stupid thing I say. I’m not talking about people who lightheartedly say “you’re going to jinx us” after I say “I think we are going to get lucky with parking tonight.” I am referring people who actually get angry and believe jinxing is as real as the air we breathe.

Here’s what I know… 1) There is no force in the universe that will take my words and cause you to get a flat tire or make your plane crash and 2) This post is a boring piece of shit and I apologize. Maybe someone recently said something like “your blog is always so awesome” and it jinxed me.

Good night jerks!

Have you ever been forced into one of these ridiculous wastes of time? If you are currently reading this from the safety of your grey cubicle then I will assume the answer is yes. I will also assume a chill just shot up your spine and a tear fell to your Dockers.

For those of you who are lucky enough to NOT know what a “team building” seminar is all about, let me sum it up like this… your entire office is herded onto a party bus and driven to a remote location where you will be forced to act like a toddler in a misguided attempt to make you give a shit about your job and coworkers. Oh, it’s a real fun time alright, you get to wear your “weekend” clothes, bang on drums and various other children’s instruments, share feelings and play wacky games that involve being tied with ropes to the accounting department. You laugh and bond over how funny your boss looks in a hula skirt and comment endlessly about how hilarious it was when Larry from sales sang “Margaritaville” at karaoke! If you are a man you might as well cut off your penis because it will never look you in the eye again after one of this weekends.

Oh it’s a big love fest that really strengthens the team until Monday when the mere sight of Larry and his stupid face brings back those fantasies of going on a killing spree through the sales department. You imagine Larry begging for his life in a pool of his own blood, looking at you with puppy dog eyes pleading, “What about Margaritaville? Come on Bob, we won the potato sack race together! Wastin away again in Margaritaville? Margaritaville!”

Remember when companies functioned without team building? Remember when people at your insurance agency had to wear suits and could not bring their dogs to work? Remember when you called a company and didn’t have to talk to a robot until you finally break down in tears screaming, “CUSTOMER SERVICE! CUSTOMER SERVICE! OPERATOR!” I want those days back again. No amount of egg toss will change my mind.