Archive for June 2009

We Can See You

June 29, 2009

We Can See You

Hey, Roger Ebert!  Turn that fucking pen light off.  You’re ruining the climax of the movie for everyone.  Oh, you’re just a regular, paying customer like me?  And you’re not taking notes?  And that’s not a pen light, it’s your cell phone?  What the fuck, Douchey Smurf?  Did Gargamel infiltrate Smurf Headquarters?  If not, put that thing back in your damn pocket or step the fuck outside.  I can’t imagine where you had to grow up to think that shit’s not going to bother anyone.  Even worse, I can’t imagine how much attention your friends and family don’t give you for you to demand it from complete strangers by turning your fucking light saber of a phone on right before someone is about to get their shit rocked or every sensitive person in the theater is about to be brought to tears by the painstaking work of a master filmmaker.

And you aren’t in a cocoon of darkness, eagle eyes.  NOT ANYMORE!  Maybe you figured you would be the only one that could see it.  Did you feel like James Bond, covertly extracting your million dollar celly from the inside pocket of your $4000 tux?  Did Q give it to you with a stern warning to bring it back in one piece and a tutorial on how to instantly annoy the shit out of 200 people you don’t know?  If so, this would still be unacceptable behavior.  But you’re not a secret agent, and a picture of your buddy whacking it to pictures of your mom is not a national secret, no matter how fucked up it is.  So, check your twitter later, to which no one probably responds, and get a Netflix account.  We don’t like your kind at the movies.  Peek-a-boo, bitch!


Just Saying…Edible Panties, Really?

June 16, 2009

First of all, I’ve got nothing against people getting freaky.  Do what you gotta do to keep the love alive! However, there are a few things that shoulnd’t be in the bedroom/car/kitchen/bathroom/office/living room/truck bed with you when it’s time to do the do.  Edible panties are at the top of my list!

Edible Panties

That’s not even freaky.  Panties that have the same consistency and taste of fruit roll-up are just a mean fucking concept.  It’s like being given a Kia as a loner when you take your Lambo to the dealer to be serviced.  Nobody, regardless of how much they enjoy pink tacos, wants to go from a sweet, sugary, strawberry snack straight to vagina.  What the fuck?  I wouldn’t ask to have my balls put in a bear trap right after getting head.  Similarly, I would not ask to be robbed after hitting the jackpot at a casino.  I’m just saying.

Weekday Forced Networking

June 10, 2009

Weekend Forced NetworkingWhat do you get when you cross a person forced to work 60 hour weeks and bosses that have decided they don’t want to go home tonight?  This is not really an open-ended question, given the title and all.  However, if you guessed ‘a free trip to a strip club’, you’re 8% right.  The other 92% of that answer is ‘a 2 to 3 hour shit show where you’re served high calorie appetizers and beer (mixed drinks if you’re lucky).’  Of course, this would be awesome on a weekday if you didn’t have to be to work by 8 AM and you weren’t surrounded by the same people you’ve been around for the last 10 hours.  Another acceptable answer might be ‘a drunken tryst that ends in a nasty divorce and issues with authority at future jobs’.

Basically, your bosses get more respect, to their faces, in the workplace than they do at home.  Think about it.  Would you be the happiest person in the world if you worked 70+ hours a week to afford your family the best of the best only to have your kids tell you they hate you while your spouse schedules all your free time with stuff you don’t want to do?  Easy answer, “FUCK NO!”  Who would?  Not me!  Dare I say that I’d be as near to suicidal as possible?  Dare I also say that instances like this are the roots of chronic alcoholism?

The weeknight social event is where your boss gets their chance to shine.  You should keep in mind that there is a chance your boss will go a little overboard with the drinking and become a douche and a half.  I’ve found that the best way to deal with habitual line crossers is to say nothing at the time.  Instead, you should wait till you’re with your coworkers to sow the seeds of disloyalty.  Eventually, they’ll sense their work family is becoming eerily similar to their real family and get their shit together.  If not, quit for a new job after you finally get that raise.  As an alternative to that, you could grow a pair, threaten your boss with a sexual harassment suit and quit after they give you a raise as compensation for being such a bag.

Pick That Shit Up!

June 5, 2009

Hey Mr. Man with the Wall Street Journal or New York Times in the bathroom.  What the fuck is goin’ on, buddy? You too good for the internet? Of course, the answer is ‘no’. Own a PDA and just don’t know how to work it?  If so, go get a prepaid cell and give that shit to your kid. He may stop calling you a dick behind your back.  Scared your boss will see you checking stock quotes or keeping up with current affairs?  Threaten him with a sexual harassment lawsuit in a one-on-one meeting.

I know! You still have a fantasy about being an animal, an animal who’s owner is so cheap they use newspaper to line the cage!  Well, grow the fuck up. I don’t want to feel like I’m in a hamster cage every time I take a shit at work.  And how come you never, ever, ever take the fucking paper with you? No one wants to read anything covered in your ball skin with the stench of digested Indian food all over it that’s been on a semi-public bathroom floor.  I’d rather go down on Rosie O’Donnell.  It’s bad enough you didn’t flush the damn toilet to make your “cage” look more realistic. Fuck it. I’m buying Depends from now on.  You people make me sick!

Just Saying…Who Cares?

June 5, 2009

Just Saying - Who CaresCNN Does It, Again

Seriously, CNN?  This is more disappointing than Who gives a damn about the president’s reading habits as long as the country remains less fucked than it would have been if coke head McGee was still in the office?  Maybe the fact that Bush read so many books a year and took more vacation than any other president has a lot to do with why he was such a bad decision maker.  I guess if you don’t have anything to report, you just start from the bottom of the list of shit people care about. Just saying…

The Stock Market

June 1, 2009

The Stock MarketRich men are technically not allowed to hunt poor men.  So, they devised a slightly more fucked up way to pass the time.  It’s a lot like gambling against the house in some posh ass casino in Monaco.  The kicker is they play with our money instead of using their own.  I mean, look at the recent trend in the markets.  Rich people fuck up, poor and semi-well off people give them money to continue fucking up or retire, and it all ends with the market up because rich people put their money back into it when it’s dirt ass cheap to invest.  It must be such a fucking rush, like doing a hybrid designer drug like cocashroomethstacy!

Not that I would know, but have you ever seen how excited Allen Greenspan and Warren Buffett look on a daily basis?  Must be the money.  You could do shit regular people never even think of like buying pairs of exotic cars and paying hookers to reenact episodes of 24.  Think about it.  Eventually, you’d get tired of making men fight to the death in your mansion’s ballroom for your kids’ entertainment?  And millions aren’t enough if you want a collection of servants from different countries or a bedroom set made of ivory and human souls.  That shit isn’t cheap!  You have to keep it fresher than a newborn’s innocence.  So, thanks, rich men around the world.  Without you, I wouldn’t have enough tears to masturbate with every time I check my 401k balance.