Make a Left-Click at FUCK YOU!

Posted October 15, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: WTF

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Left Click at Fuck YouFirst and foremost…this post is dedicated to all the fucktards that click the link to my ‘Humans and Pitbulls’ post and go off on some wild ass tangent in the comments section. This post is a direct insult and major middle finger in the air to anyone that disobeys Rules #1 and #2 of the internet: “If you find something you don’t like, hit the ‘Back’ button and keep it moving!”

You wouldn’t believe how many hits I get on my ‘Pitbulls and Humans’ post on a daily basis. It is INSANE! It’s not even one of my favorite posts. But so many people love pitbulls that it must come up on a regular basis in search engine results. Who knew? What I don’t get is anyone without a functioning sense of humor. I’m not really angry. I don’t really care if you think this shit is funny. I don’t care if you think it’s offensive. NEWS FLASH ASSHOLES: This is not the only blog on the internet.

I could could conquer the world, and it would still elude me how natural selection hasn’t rendered you fuckers in a permanent coma or locked in a basement somewhere. In fact, you stumbling upon this blog, probably shares the probability of that lone retarded sperm fertilizing the most genetically challenged egg in your mother’s gravel pit of a vagina. I actually love that so many people hate the post becasue it’s reassuring that I will be near the top of the food chain for the rest of my life.

Why I Hate the News

Posted September 20, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: Politics

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Fuck the news! I hate it, specifically TV news! I feel like committing suicide every time these no-talent, name-calling assholes discuss any topic. Why? Because the facts take a backseat to the engineered back-and-forth between people that couldn’t make an unbiased remark with the looming threat of decapitation for motivation. These cock bars they invite onto the shows usually have nothing of substance to add to the conversation outside of performing verbal felatio on behalf of someone that didn’t send them to speak on their behalf in the first place.

Is there any talent involved in this job other than not farting on the air and looking somewhat sophisticated, even if you sound like a retarded coyote on ecstasy when you speak [content reference, not vocal]? I doubt it! All you have to do is call your rival hacks names and highlight why everybody else is wrong [except you]. Of course, this is before you get busted for popping pills or beating your 3rd spouse. Then, you fuckers get holier than thine selves until you get your sponsors back. Define clusterfuck!

Only in the country I love [most of the time] can you become wealthy based solely on co-mingling facts [often blatantly altered] with closed-minded personal opinions and an uncanny ability to bully your counterparts by talking over them for millions a year. I’d definitely consider walking in front of a high-speed train before becoming comfortable with obtaining that level of douchery! Stay classy if you think you can manage.

You’re the Worst Type of Asshole

Posted August 29, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: Bathroom Etiquette

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Piss on the toilet seat…not an uncommon occurrence as far as mens rooms go. But when you take your sorry, limp-dicked ass to a stall when there are urinals to choose from, don’t be a dick and lift the seat like your whore of a mother [should have] taught you! On top of that, you don’t have the forethought to just piss on top of the seat if you couldn’t hold it. Nor did you have the common fucking courtesy to wipe it the hell off. Instead you pissed under and around the seat, on the floor, and all over the top and side of the damn bowl…fucking everywhere except the fucking industrial sized mixing bowl filled with water under your minuscule baby dick.

Did your BlackBerry start vibrating and throw off your concentration? Did you forget to unzip your pants? Even if that was the case, it’s still a shitty excuse in a pissy situation. Maybe I’m in a rush to send pictures of my shit to a feces fetish forum or take a nap on the shitter or check my favorite gossip blogs when I go to the porcelain throne. What I’m not in a fucking rush to do is play a rousing game of ‘clean your trifling ass coworker’s piss off of the entire toilet in the King stall [handicapped stalls because they’re huge]’. How about you save me some me the blood pressure points and yourself the ass whoopin you got comin if I ever find out who you are [no homo]!

Today

Posted August 20, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: Work

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Today…my old manager told me he’s “having some interesting challenges” at his new client. All the while he had a grin on his face. I also noticed he stopped making eye contact. Instead, he was staring over my shoulder at the firm backsides of a few of my female counterparts as they walked away. I couldn’t tell if he thought I wouldn’t notice he had a huge eye boner, if he was thinking about the correlation or if he was genuinely mesmerized by the 20-something year old saddles in his sights. Either way, it got me wondering if I could decode what the hell my bosses really mean when they say certain things. Like, was he unintentionally implying that he’s fucking one of our clients because people usually aren’t aroused when they talk about challenges? I’ve never gotten wood from driving on the highway in a snowstorm. Or are there really work-related challenges associated with his project? Over the past few hours I’ve decoded 5 office messages:

1) “We’ll be basing compensation on our position in this tough economy.” = “Your raise is nowhere near as important as my new mistress’ penthouse. So, your raise is going to be enough to buy an extra gallon of gas each month, and if you don’t like it, so the fuck what! Your severance package will be being permitted to leave the building without a tazer on your nuts.

2) “Let’s table this issue.” = “Bitch! Don’t you ever embarrass me in a meeting by proving me wrong. Guess who jumped to the top of the head count reduction list.”

3)”That’s low-hanging fruit that we can take care of with no problem.” = “This is an easy task that I believe is below me. I’ll delegate it to someone under me I hate more than VD and then micro-manage the fuck out of it.”

4)”He was overqualified for this position. We’d have been doing him a disservice.” = “He’d have had all of our jobs inside of a year.”

5)”We’re going to do the right thing for our people.” = “We’re going to bombard you with one-way communication until you’re satisfied. All the while, the data we’re sending you is ‘massaged [with a happy ending for the top executives]’, and the messaging is sugar-coated double-speak that passes for straight talk.”

Just Saying…Health Advice From Old People is No Good

Posted August 13, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: Just Saying

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Health Advice from Old People

Has someone that’s older than the sun, out of shape like a square pizza, or heavier than glass of Guinness tried to give you health advice?  I’m sorry, but that’s dumber than two blind guys navigating the ocean without GPS.  I mean, you’d never see Lou Ferrigno and somebody on The Biggest Loser doing the same workout. Specifically, dietary advice is a no no across 35 years or 85+ pound variances between the parties involved in the conversation, unless one of those individuals has a freak genetic disorder.

I guarantee you that cute, 95 pound girl at the Gap and the big guy working at Auntie Anne’s shouldn’t be sharing advice about sugar and cholesterol intake.  She can eat whatever the hell she wants, including a pound of animal fat and will burn that shit off in her sleep.  You on the other hand should start walking to work, eating and drinking spinach ONLY, as well as exercising in your sleep [figure it out]. This is very similar to a kid telling their grandparents they need a full 8 to 10 hours of sleep each night.  Shutup, Suzy…I guarantee you the last thing on your 89 year old grandfather’s mind is going to sleep.  So, save your 3rd grade health teacher’s advice for your dimwitted pals on the jungle gym.  Your grandparents are trying to stretch the time, not wait for the grim reaper with open arms and an apple pie.

Borrower’s Remorse

Posted August 9, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: Work

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Did you bring your puppy to work?  No?  You don’t even have a puppy?  Then what the fuck, sir, is the deal with this?  I thought I let you borrow a pen earlier.  What you just handed me looks like a used coffee stirrer.  But that can’t be the case because there’s ink in it, and it has what use to be a cap that wasn’t covered in dry spit and tooth marks.  So, I guess my next question should be, “What the fuck, man?!?!”  Is this how you repay people when they do you favors, asshole?  If I let you borrow my car, would you bring it back with dents that you kicked into it yourself and a smashed windshield?  Or how about I let you stay at my place if you lose your job, and you punch holes in my walls and shit on my rugs?  Maybe the next time you ask me to borrow something, I’ll just give you the finger and a quick toodle-loo.

Surprise! It’s Someone Else’s Shit!

Posted July 24, 2009 by b3st3v3r
Categories: Bathroom Etiquette, WTF

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Have you ever gone to the bathroom with thoughts of a productive pooping session that gets shattered the moment you realize that you’ve been made an honorary janitor by the asshole that last used the can?  Of course, you have!  This is especially true when you’ve already dotted the ass end of your underwear with your poo quill.  Then, you’re forced to go through the laborious task of using single-ply toilet paper to sterilize a toilet like you’re the monkey cage cleaner at a zoo.  Then, you have people looking at you all crazy when you get back to your desk because you’ve been gone so long.  A productive poo down that includes everything from sending Facebook birthday wishes, updating twitter, texting the person you’re cheating with…whatever.  That all only takes about 20 minutes.  But if you’re not back for 45 because you had to grab a fucking Tyvek suit and rubber gloves, then you look like the perv that can’t wait to get home, or at least to the parking lot, to rub one out.  So, give me a break, you lazy chutney, chili, curry, carne esada, and chili cheeseburger eating fucks!  Clean the toilet so I don’t have to clean your doo doo residue with single-ply.  How do you not see that?!?!  What the fuck?  Seriously…what the fuck?