Friday, February 27, 2009

my tall, goatee'd friend would never do this

It was a chilly night, about 5:30 or so. The fact that it was chilly has absolutely nothing to do with the tale I'm about to tell. Anyway, your boi is on his way home from running a couple errands after leaving the office.

I went to Lowe's to buy some drill bits (another post about this later) and then I went to the Winn (Dixie), where you lose. And lose I did.

Just had to pick up a couple things, but I managed to fuck that up. Truth is, I should never be allowed to go grocery shopping without a list. Whatever, life goes on. Well, for some people anyway.

After picking up what I thought I needed, and forgetting what I figured I didn't need, I pack my car with the bags, and like 8 bottles of 'buy one/get one free' cheap wine ass lol. Just another chilly night on an otherwise normal February evening.

Leaving the parking lot, I think of nothing as I begin the short, half-mile journey to my abode. Let it be known that this journey begins with a right turn out of the parking lot, and an immediate lane change over to the left lane to make guessed it, a left turn.

Drats! I missed the green arrow, so I'm hanging out waiting for my green light. WTF, I guess I missed that too, cause now the other traffic has a green light.

...About 30 seconds later: Sweet! There's my turn arrow!

...I begin making my turn, and: OH SHIT LOOK OUT!


I honk my horn to get this joker out of the way, he slams on his breaks, and gives me the finger like I fucked up. Dude, it was a green arrow, that means you really shouldn't try to play in traffic.

Especially when you have your kid in the kiddie rider thing attached to the back of your bike, dude.

I don't know, maybe it wasn't his kid. But still, not cool dude.

Thursday, February 26, 2009

the check engine light is on

I'm just gonna be honest here, this has the potential to be a 2 or 3 part epic series of posts. However, my honesty also compels me to let you know that it's not gonna be a multiple part anthology of awesome. We're not gonna drag this thing out.

I'm just gonna give you a little anecdote about the time my check engine light came on.

Not a big deal, really. Well, until I realized that I had to bring it in to the dealership, cause my whip (lol) is still under warranty. Just hitting roughly the 26k mileage mark, I figured it was some excuse for the dealership to get my car in to check it out. You know, some kind of marketing research or whatever. As it turns out, I was mostly right.

But it's the events that transpired while, not after or before, the car was getting checked out that make up the meat of this post...

So it's like a Thursday evening, and on my way home from, where else but the gym, I see some weird ass light come on. I get home, bust out my car manual, and have heckyeah woman read me the dirt on what's up with the light (I had her read to me because I was too pumped up from absolutely annihlating my big ass lats all day whats up).

Because it's nothing serious, the manual says to drive the car a couple more times, and if the light ain't turning off, bring it on in to the dealership. Sure enough, come Monday, the light is still on, so I make an appointment, and my homeboy over there is kind enough to get me in that same day.

But he wasn't kind enough to avoid not only this album sitting front and center on the passenger seat, for him to see! ...But also, that very same album jammed into my cd player, blasting at full volume the minute he starts the car to bring it into the garage!

You saw the album cover, you can only imagine how brutal it is.

Mr. Dodge Dealership Service Manager Dude, if you're out there, and somehow reading this blog, I'm sorry man. You didn't deserve that.

Wednesday, February 25, 2009


Yeah so my good friend, the 90's called, and they wanted to see some awesome hardcore on HUMP DAY PUMP UP.

Yo, so what could I do?

I had to oblige.

And what kind of self respecting blog-writing-dude would NOT follow up that awesome vid, with THIS awesome vid. You know, I just felt kinda bad after the debacle that happened last week.

OK OK OK, I swear next week I'm gonna hook up that new Nickelback joint lol.

Yo, if you ain't down with the core, here's a little sumthin' sumthin' to think about.

Have an awesome Wednesday and get pumped up!

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

a remarkable athlete

After those truly epic posts about shining shoes, and the ensuing fiasco, I am really drained. It took a lot out of me.

I almost quit the blog. That's how drained I was.

As luck would have it, I turned on the TV for a brief reprieve from sweating and swearing - and what I saw and heard on the television, at that very moment, really hit home.

It really made me stop and think for a second.

Basically it was some TV show that was talking about horse racing. You're not gonna believe this shit. Here's what the dude on television said, when referring to some douchebag jockey:

"Truly, what a remarkable athlete"


No seriously, If I were a baby, this is how hard I would have laffed:

I tried and tried, and I actually can't think of any bigger pussies than horse racers, or jockeys.

Ooooh SNAP! Called out by the fine folks at heck yeah, man.

Monday, February 23, 2009

shoe shining fiasco resolved

OK. I've had at least 2 people personally ask me about my shoe shining fiasco blog. That's a good quarter of the daily readership. Anyway if you haven't already read it, check it out.

I left off right where I get to the good stuff - I start shining my shoes. Join me now as I tell this epic story, the way it is meant to be told...

So I have the dirty ass carpet soaking with pet carpet cleaner, and I'm about to start shining my shoes.


Haha, just kidding, there's no but, lol. I'm finally applying the preliminary coat of shoe polish to my left shoe. Note that I am no longer sweating or cursing; and things are going along swimmingly. Now the left shoe is caked up with a thick, black chalky-like coating of shoe polish. Aaaaaaand it's done for now.

It gets set aside, on the newspaper, for it to dry. I begin working on my right shoe - it also gets a thick-ass coat of black shoe polish. This is great!

Both of my shoes are now covered in shoe polish as they sit for a minute as to dry. For those of you unaware of how to polish sweet ass black wing-tips, the next thing I'm going to do is take my fancy brush, whose bristles are made from the finest horsehair, and gently brush the dried shoe polish off.

It truly is beautiful to see the shine start to come through. Of course not all the way through, as I have yet to polish them - BUT WE'LL GET TO THAT.

I brush off my left shoe. I'll polish that in a minute, but first I'll need to brush my right one. But what the fuck? The crusted-on shoe polish isn't brushing off as easy as it has in the past. Has my fancy shoe brush become so caked with shoe polish from previous uses, that it's now unusable?

Holy shit, I think it has.

Not cool.

All of a sudden, visions of me wearing my tan/khaki dress pants with my unbrushed-off shoe polish-caked shoes, and black shoe polish stains getting all over my light colored pant cuffs omg! Haha, just kidding, I wear brown shoes with those lighter pants, lol no worries.

No but on the real tip, the brush isn't working. So I had to abandon it, and just start polishing. And polishing, and polishing. Now I'm sweating again.

And polishing. Now I'm swearing again.

Literally, 20 minutes later of polishing my right shoe, It's shiny. So shiny that I can see my manly, pissed off face in this mirrored black hole of shiny awesomeness that is my shoe.

Wow! What a great feeling!

The anger recedes, the sweating slows down. I easily polish up my other shoe.

By now you've made it through two marathon posts of epic proportions, and you're probably wondering "well, what about the polish stains on the carpet?" Sure enough, I'm happy to report that the carpet cleaner I used got rid of the black stains that were there.

Seriously, that stuff works wonders. If you're interested, I'm sure I'll make a post or two about the numerous times I've used it on ferret poop stains.

Friday, February 20, 2009

sorry dad

It is with great sadness that I realize that I won't be able to share one of the manliest moments of my life, with the man I learned how to be manly from - my dad.

From the day I was born, my dad was there helping me to become a man. He taught me how to check my oil on my car. He taught me the value of a dollar. He taught me the difference between right and wrong.

He taught me how to use a lawn mower. He taught me how to use various power tools around the house.

I'm literally in tears as I write this.

I have a little home improvement project that requires the use of a drill - but I don't have one. This means that I now have to buy my first power tool. And living across the country from my father, I realize I have to purchase one without the added bonus of going home and just drilling holes in stuff, with my dad.

I've already resigned myself to the fact that I would just call him up on the old telefono, and axe him all about drills. I did, and he gave me some great info about them. Now, armed with a wealth of knowledge, I need to go shopping.

Haha yeah right, you know I'm just gonna go to Home Depot and buy whichever drill looks like it can kill the most people, the fastest. I'm talkin' about inch-wide drill bits made for drillin' through zombie heads.


Thursday, February 19, 2009

shoe shining fiasco

I have a job that requires me to look awesome. Looking awesome requires me to wear dress shoes. Wearing dress shoes requires me to buy a sweet pair of black wing-tips. Me buying a sweet pair of wing-tips means me looking awesome. Me looking awesome in my sweet black wing-tips requires me to shine them once in a while.

And a couple Sunday nights ago, shining them is what I did. Keep in mind that this Sunday night was kind of warm, too cool to put the AC on, but too warm to NOT BE SWEATING FUCKING BULLETS EVERYTIME I MAKE A FUCKING MOVE. Anyway.

Most of you know that I am very particular about how I spend my sabbath. I usually reserve about a half hour, to an hour for cleaning things (guns, shoes, dishes) like shortly after dinner. I like to have a beer, or some whiskey, while I clean whatever it is I'm cleaning.

Ok, let's do this.

I laid the newspaper down on the table so I wouldn't get shoe polish all over it. And when I go to open the shoe polish that I thought was only half used, and FUCK! It was empty. OK whatever, I'll use the other big ass can of shoe polish.

The cover doesn't seem to want to twist off very easily. I'm lightly sweating. So I reef on it a few more times before I get up to get the screwdriver to pry the top off.

So now I'm sitting on the white suede couch reefing on this can of shoe polish, sweating a little bit more than I was before. Now I'm also lightly cursing. FINALLY! The cover is inching off!

The cover flies off! Across the room! Whatever, I can just shine my damn shoes now.

Actually I can't, because I just dropped the GODDAMN shoe polish can, and spilled shoe polish all over the floor. Definitely more than just light cursing, and now heavy to moderate sweating.

What the hell am I supposed to do now? This shit is like a chunk of black, oil and grease...and it stains.

In a fit of anger and f-bombs, I pick up the chunks and start scrubbing the polish stains into the carpet lol.

After cursing till my throat was dry, and sweating till I had to change shirts, I get up and grab some of this carpet cleaner stuff that I use for when Scab (our cute little hairless ferret) diarrheas all over the floor.

I squirt a little carpet cleaner on the floor, tell the stain, "fuck you", and then let it sit for a couple minutes while I chill out/dry off.

So naturally I start shining my shoes, and....

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: late as fuck edition

Hey hey hey, we ARE alive over here at heck yeah, man! We were just so pumped up with the sweet, slightly off center, new blog design that we scheduled the weekly HUMP DAY PUMP UP to post at 7:31PM instead of 7:31AM. My bad.

Sorry. No really, I am sorry.

I wasn't at work, and had an appointment all morning - so naturally the first thing I do when I have access to a computer is, uh, CHECK OUT MY BLOG YO.

BUT, there is a bright side: Something happened to me right before I got on the computer, something that pumped me up more than any awesome video that you're never gonna watch ever will.

Check this out: My Dad called. Yeah he called, and it was awesome.

You know a phone call from your dad is awesome when it starts out with "hey I was reading your blog..."!

Does your dad read your blog? Do you have a blog? Would your dad read your blog if you had one? Would my dad read your blog? Would your dad read my blog? The possibilities are endlessssssss!

So uh, yeah, HUMP DAY PUMP UP (with awesome video) will be back next week! Till then, thanks for reading!

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

die uh beat iss

One blog post, so many things to say. Lucky for you, I realize you're busy, so I'll just say a thing or two. And maybe you'll find a rofl or two.

You can probably guess from the title, what this post is about.

First, I just saw a commercial for some diabetes monitor. I mean, granted, I drank a bit too much whiskey to tell exactly how the thing worked; but it appeared to work the same way a breathalyzer does - you breathe in, and it tells you whatever info you're looking for. Like how close you are to a diabetic overload, man. Yo lemme get a tug offa dat der insulin.

Maybe I'm totally wrong. I just caught a quick glimpse of this contraption. Christ, for all I know, you could have to pee in the damn thing. I don't know. That's not the fucked up part, though.

The fucked up thing was that this thing came in different colors.


Yeah, I get it, you want a certain colored shirt. You want a certain color to your jeans. You want a specific color for your car. But what the fuck? A colored DIABETES MEASURER!

HOLY SHIT I'm shaking right now. If your life gets to the point where you give a fuck what color the thing that measures your diabetes is - you're seriously fucked.

Take my Dad for example, he doesn't have diabetes, but if he did, he sure as fuck wouldn't give a shit what color the thing is that he uses to measure his 'whatever the fuck this thing measures'.

You know, I had something else to say, kind of related to this, but in the heat of this blog post, I totally forgot to elaborate. That, and I just want to go to bed, cause it's like 3 AM.

So real quick, the other thing I wanted to touch on was the pronounciation of the word diabetes: "die uh beat eez" vs "die uh beat iss". Maybe some other time.

Monday, February 16, 2009

my services have been offered

Some of you may have heard on the news recently about the feud between Sarah Palin and Ashley Judd. If not, let me sum it up for you:

Sarah Palin is a good lookin retard broad that wants to shoot wolves from helicopters. Ashley Judd is a hot ass movie star loser that doesn't want to shoot wolves from helicopters. And they are arguing over that.

It should be noted that, similar to LIONS, SHARKS, ALLIGATORS, & BEARS...WOLVES are the type of animal where if you're not killing it with your bare hands, you don't have any business killing it. That would make you a pussy.

Yes, if you are shooting wolves from a helicopter, you are a pussy.

Anyway, I'm on the Defenders of Wildlife (organization affliated with Ashley Judd) mailing list, and I got an email asking for a donation. The cool part is that the email came from Ashley Judd herself (lol). A real, big-name celebrity emailed me about helping some wolves!

Whatever, some of you may remember a previous post of mine about an email I got from a similar organization...and my selfless offer to help...and then their pussy-assed response. Well I thought it would be a good idea if I offered some help again.

Here's my reply:


I agree wholeheartedly! Unfortunately I don't have the money to donate*, but I do have the time and weaponry available to put an end to this injustice, the AMERICAN way. I propose we hunt wolf hunters from the sky. Let's see how they like it.

Anyway, you have the chopper pick me up and we'll start hunting the hunters. Sounds pretty cool, eh?

Maybe make a red carpet event of it. Of course the red carpet would be the bloodstained flesh of the wolf-hunters.

I have proposed other ideas like this in the past, one of them was flying a couple Spanish bullfighters in to my home here in Florida, and having like a pay-per-view company televise me mashing them like potatoes.

I understand, as your organization has reminded me multiple times, that violence is not a viable option for you. Well, it is for me. With that in mind, if my above ideas aren't up to your standards, we can compromise: I would love to have Ms Palin and yourself, mudwrestle at my place.

Let me know what you think!

I'm here to help,


*I totally do, lol!

Friday, February 13, 2009

firetruck come, firetruck go

get up in the morning
prepare for the day
i brush all my teeth
and i wash my whole face
firetruck come
firetruck go

leftovers for lunch
so i heat them up
all i can think about
is nom nom nom nom
firetruck come
firetruck go

off to run my errands
got a few things to buy
bought some stuff at target
cause i'm just a regular guy
firetruck come
firetruck go

quickly bored of shopping
so i check out and bust
forgot the damn qtips
yeah, i forgot some stuff
firetruck come
firetruck go

on my journey home
a motherfucker cuts me off
out comes the magnum
firetruck come
firetruck go

close to my domicile
and I'm ready to relax
only one thing on my mind:
mid-afternoon snacks
firetruck come
firetruck go

notice something fucked up
right there in my lot
neighbors car has been torched
it's charred like whaaa
firetruck come
firetruck go

the front of the car
is burnt to a crisp
the fire didn't get far
they threw plenty of water at it
firetruck come
firetruck go

the fireman cometh
for he hath been beckoned
his hose, his weapon
and now the fire recedith
the job is done
the battle is won
firetruck come
firetruck go

Thursday, February 12, 2009

omg joke day!

Q: How do you make Boston Red Sox fans look classy?

A: Surround them with a bunch of Pittsburgh Steelers fans! ZING!

*Please note: this post was typed and scheduled before the Super Bowl. Congrats Steelers!

Wednesday, February 11, 2009


Yeah, I know you probably don't really care too much about the videos I keep posting every Wednesday. And I know you've probably never heard of the bands. And you're probably wondering what the hell they're yelling about. And that's fine.

I post them pretty much for my own benefit. But fuck, that Biohazard vid from last week has still got me pumped up. Maybe one of these days I'll post something with maybe a bit of a wider appeal, like Hinder or Nickelback or something lol.

But until one of those days comes, PREPARE TO GET PUMPED THE FUCK UP RIGHT NOW!!!

Who the the hell is Have Heart? A band I enjoy
What the hell is "The Unbreakable"? A song that pumps me the fuck up

I mean, the song is called "THE UNBREAKABLE"! It's obviously an ode to my musculature. Maybe the lyrics aren't really like totally all about like my traps or aything...but you can infer.

Just look at the crowd going apeshit when the song starts. That crowd is obviously pumped up. I don't know, maybe this particular live vid was taken from a show like on a Wednesday morning or something.

Like maybe around 9 or 10 AM.

Within the last month, month and a half.

Right after I posted one of my HUMP DAY PUMP UP posts.

And maybe the band just did a live reading of one of those awesome posts.

So come on, let's get pumped up together. and have an awesome Wednesday.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

a couple things

In an effort to improve my life, I'm going to be making some changes. Some will be big, some will be subtle; but rest assured, every little change I make will add a dimension of improvement to my life.

The first thing I'm going to do has to do with the way I write. I'm trying to move away from 'traditional punctuation'. Instead, I'm looking at replacing some periods with 'lol'. Some of you maybe notice how I sometimes end a sentence with 'lol.'. I still have the period on the end, and in fact I may keep the period there. I'm just trying to end a few more sentences with 'lol'. I don't know, I'll keep you updated on that.

The next thing I'm going to do is invent a new quantifiable unit. These new units are going to measure exactly how much 'I give a fuck' about something. In an effort to not give so much of a fuck about a lot of things anymore, I've been asking myself, when the situation arises, 'how much of a fuck would Dirty Harry give?'

In honor of my man Dirty Harry, I'm going to christen these units as "Eastwoods". Let's check out an example: When my gf asks me how much I like the new jeans she's trying on, I just reply with a simple, "an Eastwood". Translation: I don't really give a shit, they look fine; let's go eat.

Once you have 10 Eastwoods, that makes a "Clint".

In my estimation, if you do get to like 10 Eastwoods (or a Clint), that would be the equivalent of like having your parents stabbed to death right in front of you. So that's a whole lot of 'givin a fuck'.

Consequently though, if you hear some pussy ass motherfucker at the mall say something like '17 Eastwoods', you know he's a punk ass bitch because chances are, his parents are not getting stabbed to death right in front of him. It's probably some lame shit like he probably just found out that his girlfriend was blowing a real man. Yeah, welcome to life, dickbiter.

OK, so those are 2 of the things I will be employing into my awesome life, immediately. Learn 'em and love 'em.

Monday, February 9, 2009

what's wrong with america

The economy is in shambles. Motherfuckers are losing jobs left and right. CEO's continue to get hooked up from the shitheads in Washington. Terrorism remains a brutal threat right here at home.

Sketchy ass motherfuckers like this piece of shit lookin' fuck up are being nominated for Golden Globes and Academy Awards 'n shit. I don't care if you just cured cancer; if you look as retarded as that dude, any good you have ever done is automatically invalidated.

I haven't seen The Wrestler, but guaranteed, if the absurdly high price of my ticket stub is going to, in any way, allow this fucktard to buy any more of those retarded jackets, yo I'm about to crack some muhfuggin skulls.

This is what's right with America.

I rest my case.

Happy Monday!

Friday, February 6, 2009

lol, another haircut post

It should be noted that this haircut occured a couple weeks ago. It wasn't posted immediately because I already had other awesome posts scheduled, and then as we all know, ART WEEK!!! happened. Heck yeah! Anyway, read on about my adventures with haircuts!

Yo, I went to get a haircut the other day and straight up, it's been a while since I last had one. I think the last time I got a haircut, was the last time I cleaned my terlet. Oddly, these events always seem to coincide in this crazy space-time continuum we call life. More on the toilet cleaning, later.

Most of you probably already know that I'm no stranger to picking my nose. Hey man when I got a booger, I go 'n get it. Ain't no thing.

So I was at work the other day, the day after the haircut, and I had just finished clearing the nostrils of any superflous junk. I get an itch on my head, and think nothing of it as I scratch this itch.

An hour or so later, I'm enjoying the fruits of a freshly cut head of hair by running my fingers through my sub-inch long hair...all of a sudden I come across a crusty chunk that is clumped to more than a few strands of hair.

I have no idea how this happened lol.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

lemme lay it out 4 u

Ok, all-a-y'all know the drill...I'm gonna start this post off by saying something like, 'the other day at the gym'. Then I'll go ahead and launch off into some trivial metaphor about how I'm so strong; this will be followed by some humorous anecdote about how something funny happened (at the gym). Finally, I'll cap this bad boy off with some funny one-liner that ties it all together.

So, without any other crap, here is my post for the day, entitled:

'an innocent rofl between men'

After I arrive at the gym, and sign in with the high-tech fingerprint scanner (it's pretty sweet) , I creep over into the men's room. We all know why I'm going in there: to check out dong.

NO WHAT THE FUCK just kidding! I go there to change into my workout gear, you sick bastards. After I change, usually I'll take my pre-workout leak. Not a big deal. I find myself standing at the urinal, just urinating away, thinking about how awesome I am, and how jacked my biceps must look as I'm standing there peeing into some dirty ass urinal. Fuck yeah.

And then BAM!!! FRRRRRRRRRT!!1! I just ripped/blasted some of the most serious ass ever. I swear I thought I tore a whole right in my sweet workout shorts.

I couldn't control it. Something had to move. Unfortunately for my shorts, it was my bowels' way of saying 'goodbye' to that putrid ass gas I'd been holding in all day.

That's not even the worst part of the story!

Out of nowhere I hear this muffled laughter coming from the lone stall there. I have no idea who it is, I look at the shoes to see if maybe i can teFFFRRRRRRRTTTTT!!!!

HOLY SHIT THERE IT GOES AGAIN!!! Another monstrous blast from my anus.

By now, this dude is in full blown laughter mode. I have no idea who it was, but this mystery shitter had a very booming laugh. Almost as booming as my murderous assault on what little fresh air still remained in that tiny men's room.

Mr. Mystery-Shitter, if you're out there and reading, I hope you had a good lift that day, bro.

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


You know the deal, this is HUMP DAY PUMP UP. I post, you read, you watch the vid, and you get pumped up.

So easy, right? Yeah, so easy. Especially cause today I got a vid that pumps me up so much, it might last for a couple weeks. I'm seriously thinking about not doing the HUMP DAY PUMP UP next week because I plan on being so pumped up already.

Watch the vid.

Biohazard - Punishment

The cold, hard truth is this: after viewing the video I post each Wednesday, you are 95% more likely to just lose it and go absolutely crazy from the unfathomable amount of awesome contained in each video.

If pumping you up with awesome videos is wrong, baby I don't wanna be right.

[WARNING - ATTN: DUDES - If you are able to view the video above and not get ready to go mash motherfuckers like potatoes, please immediately go inquire with a physician about why your balls haven't dropped yet.]

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

local news

As reported from the Gainesville Sun (Gainesville's local newspaper):

Gainesville - An area man, notable for his online blogging, has recently suffered an attempted mugging by one of the many people whose days start and end with a visit to his online blog.

The mugger was apparently a daily reader of Mr. Heckyeahman's blog, and didn't recognize him until he had the gun in the face. One would think that due to Mr. Heckyeahman's overly muscular stature, and devilish good looks, that he would be recognized immediately.

Upon recognizing Mr. Heckyeahman, who is somewhat of a local celebrity, the mugger apologized for his actions, and admitted to being a daily reader, and staunch supporter of his blog. As an amateur blogger himself, the mugger pretty much learned everything he knows about having an awesome blog from Mr. Heckyeahman's blog,

While Mr. Heckyeahman could not be reached for comment, it is assumed he's out doing awesome things/at the gym/being tan, the mugger did have this to say:

"It was weird, so surreal. I just wanted to gank some dudes wallet and get some cash dawg, you know, so I could pick up a handle of whiskey (like Mr. Heckyeahman drinks) and get mah swerve on later that night at the club."

He elaborates about the initial creeping up on Mr. Heckyeahman from behind, "At a distance, you know, I thought it was odd...when I noticed how muscular his buttocks are...I, they just appeared to be rock hard. Like if a dude's rear end appears to be that muscular, maybe I shouldn't mess with him."

On finally putting 2 and 2 together, and recognizing the towns favorite philanthropist-through-awesome-blogs, "I completely didn't recognize Him at first, but when I got closer, I got a glimpse of that face. So chiseled, so handsome. I thought to myself that NOBODY wears the designer stubble like my hero does."

The mugger explains why he didn't go through with the mugging, "...I said to him, straight up, 'your blog is just too awesome for me to rob u, dawg'."

That right there folks, pretty much sums up the entire online sentiment towards Mr. Heckyeahman and his amazing style of blog posting on the interwebz. Again, please, if for some reason you haven't been to his blog, please go ahead and check it out, and forward it to a friend: .

Monday, February 2, 2009

this guy gets it

I just read an article on that great superhighway of information, the internetz. It was about 2 overweight people that met at Weight Watchers (lol), fell in love, lost some weight, and got married. Awesome, right? No.

See, they had kids, and the wife just kept getting fatter and fatter, lol. The dude was going to workout on his lunch break...with his secretary. I guess she was in great shape, fun and upbeat, and totally not weighed down with the burden of three shitty little kids. Eventually he fell for her, tried to kiss her, and she told him she was in a committed relationship with someone else.

Homeboy got shot down. Heh, sorry man.

Anyway, this guy had been exercising, getting all buff for his wife, and all she does is sit around and get fatter. As luck would have it, on their 10 year anniversary he drops this bomb on his wife and she freaks out.

Our analysis: lol @ the wife getting all fat 'n gross, and pushing her husband into the arms of another woman. rofl.

On a happier note, the couple has managed to work things out, and they are both currently exercising and falling in love all over again (with each other). I'll keep you posted or whatever.

*On a side note, probably the biggest lol ever, came from within this article. When explaining why she was getting fatter and fatter, she said something about how 'being overweight runs in her family'. Hahahahaha I've never heard that being a lazy, fat worthless fuck was hereditary.