Thursday, April 30, 2009

hunched over in pain

The other day I was at work, and had an itch on my inner thigh. When I went to itch it, I almost knocked over my tea, and I inadvertently flicked my testicle.

It was horrible. I just sat there in anger and silence for a couple minutes, thinking, "when will this pain go away?"

Some of you don't have balls, so you may never know the joy of a flicked testicle, but believe me, it's not that awesome. It's like a stomach ache, the kind you get when you're in the midst of a diarrhea fueled burnfest, that you know is just gonna linger a while.

The more I type about this, even a couple days after this incident, the angrier I get. It's like the pain is coming back. Like I'm compelling myself to flick my ball again, so I can go back to that angry, hurtful place; just so I can type this with as much honesty and conviction as possible.

It's like when lame Hollywood stars say, when they have to play some crazy part, how they really "get into the role, man". I used to think it was so retarded. Now, I'm not so sure. I'm actually sitting here contemplating punching my massive scrotum, just to take me back, man.

I'll keep you updated.

But hey, look on the bright side: at least my tea didn't get spilled.

MUSTACHE MAY KICK OFF TOMORROW!

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

so tired

I'm tired. I don't think I sleep enough.

I'm not sure if I'll ever sleep enough.

I have big bags under my dark, sunken-in eyes.

I take solace in the fact that this lack of sleep isn't coming from a stressful job, or anything stupid like that. I'm not losing sleep over chicks, lol. It's not like I'm burning the candle at both ends, or anything. I'm not really up all night partying like a rock star.

Nah, none of that.

I'm exhausted from kicking so much ass. Plain and simple, I live in a constant state of ass-kicking.

Even when I'm not kicking ass, I'm still kicking ass.

I kick so much ass that one time I was at the bar, and this broad was eyeballing me, so I smiled at her, and she just melted. Like literally, melted. What a bitch. Who does that?

And my friends, there's only one (1) way I can kick so much ass: staying PUMPED THE FUCK (sorry mom) UP.

And there's only one (1) way I can stay so GODDAMN (sorry again mom) PUMPED UP all the time: watching vids like this:



Yeah, this is a little bit more chilled out than the usual HDPU fare, but it's still a dope song. Oh, what? This isn't enough for you? Ok, you fucking twink, I got you covered. warning: hot ass chick in this vid.



Tuesday, April 28, 2009

attn: stephen king, dean r koontz, michael crichton, etc..

From one gifted writer to another, I have a question for you.

Imagine, you just finished up writing the most epic book that you'll ever write. You are beyond pumped about this book.

All you have to do to get this baby published is to put your final approval on the advance copy that the editor just sent you. Clearly, the only way to celebrate is to dig into this literary masterpiece, while shitting in your bathroom. 20 minutes later, you finish up; but when you grab for a piece of toilet paper, to your chagrin, you find the roll empty.

Whatever, you look under your sink, in the cabinet, and see no toilet paper there either. You are officially out of toilet paper. Also, today is laundry-day, so any towels that you may have had in the bathroom, or house, are at the laundromat.

There are no linens to wipe your ass with.

Your entire house was just remodeled so you have literally nothing in your own house to wipe your ass with. For some strange reason, I'm not sure why, but you're also completely naked.

You hop in the shower, to do it that way. Sadly, no water comes from the shower head. The water is still turned off. Lol, you can't even flush that steamer down.

You're sitting there completely naked, sweating a little bit, due to the frustration that there is nothing you can wipe your ass with. And this was the kind of dump where you KNOW you NEED to wipe.

Suddenly it strikes you.

You ARE holding a book.

With pages.

Made from paper.

No way. This book was your heart and soul. You poured every ounce of your being into this book.

Writing is your one true love. You love writing more than your wife, more than your children. This book is the culmination of everything you are, everything you've become.

Do you dare desecrate it?

Do you wipe your ass with your beloved book?

Monday, April 27, 2009

lightning strikes twice

So check this out, I have a job. Nice! It's a pretty sweet job. One of the perks is that our office has a nice, big-ass kitchen. It's great - it's got 2 microwaves, an oven, a dishwasher, 2 sinks, plenty of seating, and a whole bunch of other crap that kitchens normally have.

Kitchens get used, and they get dirty. Especially when I use 'em.

Soooooo, they need to be cleaned regularly. Lucky for us, we have 4 different departments that take turns cleaning the kitchen, a month at a time. This month, April, is my department's turn. When I say 'my department', I don't mean like "MY" department, I'm not the boss - it's just the department that I work in. FYI, I'm in the Dept. of Awesome.

Anyway, so yeah, we have kitchen duty this month. What was previously an uneventful month of kitchen duty, quickly turned into an unexpected tragedy. On the morning of Wednesday, April 22nd, it was brought to our managers attention that somebody forgot to unload the dishwasher.

The nerve! Who would do such a thing?!?!?

They say lightning doesn't strike in the same place twice. Well apparently it does, because that very next morning, Thursday, April 23rd, the dishwasher went unloaded again!

It's true. Our company had to suffer through this same tragedy twice! In the same week!

Just unbelievable.

It's unfathomable, that in this economic climate, somebody would let such a thing happen not once, but twice. I hope that as a team, we can band together, and weather this storm.

Books have been written about Fortune 500 companies thriving through these types of trials and tribulations - so we know it's not a death sentence for our company. I'm just praying that we have the wherewithal to stick it out, and see it through.

In this recession, where virtually every company is trimming the fat, and doing what it can to survive, the last thing any company needs is somebody who might forget to unload a dishwasher.

Absolutely, and entirely unacceptable.

So let's all take a minute today, whether you're at home, or at your office's kitchen, and just check the dishwasher. If there are clean dishes in there, just go ahead and unload them. Put 'em away. Who knows, you might just save your job.

Because let's face it, you don't want to be the victim of an "unloaded dishwasher crier".

Sunday, April 26, 2009

NEW POLL!!! / COMING SOON!!!

Look above.

No, really, look above at my sweet header. You see that dude on there? You see that stache? That sweet fuckin' mustache?

You know who that is? That's me. You know why I had that mustache?

2 words: MUSTACHE MAY.

As April comes to an end, we're getting ready for the second annual Mustache May.

So check this out, this is how we did last year.




















Be on the lookout for periodic updates, including a Heck Yeah, Man kick-off extravaganza. Notice the lack of exclamation points, lol.

In honor of the looming Mustache May kick-off, I created a new poll - to your right. So go ahead, vote in it as many times as you would like, and tell your friends to vote in it, too. If we get enough people that actually want to participate, we'll get this rollin'. Otherwise, it'll just be me, lol.

Ok sweet. So we got Mustache May comin' up in...uh, May.

Also, you remember ART WEEK!!!? Of course you do. Well it's not coming back. BUT! We are doing a theme week, to be unveiled in a few weeks. And yes, there will be plenty of art.

Soooo, uh...like, uh, check back every day or something.

Friday, April 24, 2009

my mouf stay clean

Let's talk about something very near and dear to me: Teeth cleaning. Yeah, my grill may be a little busted, but my teeth are clean as hell. Think about that while you read this gripping passage regarding self-exploration, in a mouthwash-fueled context.

How many times have you been at a party, and maybe you've eaten something, or you had some nasty ass wine, and you find yourself with a foul taste all up in yo mouf? Has this ever happened to you - where your breath just stinks?

Does that shit stank?

So you head to the bathroom to spill some urine, and you start wishing you could brush your tee-wait, is that mouthwash over there?

Indeed, it is mouthwash that you spy. You see it sitting right there, calling you over. It looks so divine - like a beacon of the whitest light from the heavens, is shining right down on it.

You're tantalized.

Suddenly you're inundated with thoughts of your breath being fresh and minty clean, as the antiseptic washes all over the inside of your mouth. Such an exciting, exhilarating feeling. Truly a blessing. One of life's little pleasures, if you will.

About a million things racing through your mind right now: Will they notice if I take a quick tug? Whose goddamn mouth has been on that shit? Should I pour a little in the cap? Yo, I got anything stuck in my teef? Did that shortie I was mackin earlier catch a whiff of my nasty ass breaf?

What do you do?

Well if you're anything like me, you grab that minty green goodness, take a big ass tug, backwash a little bit, furiously swizzle that shit in your mouth, and spit that shit right back into the bottle.

Chyeah, u goddamn right, that's how I roll.

Thursday, April 23, 2009

SNAKES ON A PORCH

Oh man, it was a beautiful evening, the sun was out, I just got home from a rough week of work, and I feel great. So pumped up now that the weekend is finally here.

There aren't many better ways to cap off a shitty ass week of workin' for the man, than with having an ice cold beer on the porch, man.

I grab a beer, bust open the screen door, and AAAAAHHHHHH HOLY SHIT!!!






WHERE THE HELL DID THIS THING COME FROM!??!?!?






This SERPENT must have been like 8 feet long, and like half a foot wide! When it hissed at me, I saw it's big ass fangs that were at least an inch and a half long. These fangs were longer than some of my good friends' weiners.

Man, I just wanted to sit outside, enjoy the weather, and have a brewski. And we got this serpentine beast holding me up. I had to act quick, so I did the first thing that popped into my head: I called my boy, Samuel L Jackson.
















He came over, and showed that devil-snake where to go (straight to hell).

Being the nice guy that he is, he popped in again on Saturday evening to make sure things were ok. And of course, things weren't ok, as another snake had become curious, and found his way onto our hanging birdfeeder.

















Samuel L, dressed casually now in a nice light blue tshirt, had no qualms with making quick work of this long lizard snake beast.

And just like that, the snakes were DEALT WITH.

The thing is, we have a plant hanging on our porch that some birds have decided to build a nest in. And now instead of a plant, we have a couple freshly hatched baby birds. I think that's what the snakes were after.

These things were crawling up walls, slithering up and down the railing, and pretty much just defying gravity and physics, trying to get to these goddamn baby birds.

It was pretty awesome.

Wednesday, April 22, 2009

first, coffee and strife; then, near destruction

Please join me now for a brief reinterpretation of the events that occurred between 8 am, and about 10:30 am, Saturday, April 18th. This depicts the classic human struggle of reality, with the potentiality of events of epic proportions. The day begins with, in a sense, the nourishment of the soul, and ends, ironically, with the nourishment of the body.

Let's begin this tale...

"SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU STUPID GODDA-...", I almost let that one slip out for real, as I crawl out of bed, to the sound of the alarm. It's Saturday, and I wonder to myself why the hell I'm getting up so goddamn early. Chuckling, I realize it's the day of the semi-annual, big-ass book sale we go to every 6 months. It's huge, like tons of books for a dollar fifty or whatever.

People camp out overnight to wait in line for this shit. Us, well we just head down around 8, and wait in line for an hour till it starts. Seriously, the line is long as shit. HeckYeah-Woman drops me off so I can get in line, while she runs a couple errands, and then joins me right around 9, for the book-buying festivities.

She brewed a big ass pot of coffee in honor of this momentous occasion. So, armed with a big cup-o-joe, and my sweet ipod touch, I take my place in line. I don't usually drink coffee, so I was eagerly awaiting the coffee buzz I knew I was gonna get. I stood there sipping my coffee, listening to some tunes, playing solitaire on the ipod, and before long, the buzz showed up.

This wasn't any ordinary buzz, though. This was THE BUZZ. And it was triggered by THIS SONG.



(yeah, I've been on a ridiculous Strife kick)

Immediately, from the opening chords, I knew shit was about to go off.

The entire parking lot was filled with a twisted, tangled, long-ass line of literally hundreds of people, and you could feel the tension.

Visions rushed through my head of everybody setting it off into one giant mosh pit, with this song as the soundtrack. These people were destined to go absolutely apeshit.

Hippies, old people, , professors, sketchy looking motherfuckers, all floorpunching, and 2-stepping to the frenzied furiousness of Strife.

Somebody's gramma was climbing onto one of the check out tables and stage diving into a sea of PUMPED UP mosh-pitters, totally ready to let her body surf herself to glory.

Me, I'm getting a ridiculous circle pit moving, let's do this.

Everybody was united in a trance-like state of being beyond PUMPED UP. Imagine being in this situation, and all of a sudden you hear that one song that really sets you off; that one song that gets you moving.

That one song that gets you pumped up. Well for me, and everybody there that day, this was that song.

Now throw a wicked coffee-buzz into the mix, and you're good.

And just as quickly as it came, the buzz was gone. Heck Yeah-Woman showed up, the doors to the sale opened up, and we went in and did our thing. The only way to celebrate an event of such epic proportions was to swing by BK and get a couple bacon, egg & cheese biscuits to go.

This, my friends, is "getting pumped up", in it's purest form. This is the every-day, real life manifestation of HUMP DAY PUMP UP.

With this story in mind, I want you to imagine that today is a bacon, egg & cheese biscuit. Go ahead, take that first delicious bite, and don't stop until you've devoured THE SHIT out of it.

Tuesday, April 21, 2009

does not compute

It's early on a Saturday morning, a couple weeks ago, probably like 11:30. Too early for me, man.

I fire up the computer, pull up facebook, and log in - you know, so I can lurk my ex girlfriends and stuff. But before I can even get my lurk on, I get this:
















WHAT THE FUCK

It won't do anything. Just this blue screen. Lol, the computer won't even turn off manually. Did the CIA finally get me for that fucked up porn I had on the computer a couple months ago? It wasn't that bad.

I'm sitting here in my underwear just getting more and more pissed off. Jesus Christ, this is what my life has come down to.

After slamming the mouse around, punching the computer screen, and pounding on the keyboard, I realize that none of that will fix the computer.

So I do what I know is gonna make me feel better:
















Sure enough, the computer may be a piece of shit, but I feel a hell of a lot better

Monday, April 20, 2009

fun game

This is Meow Meow, our cat. You may remember her from a few previous posts. One time, I had a conversation with her. Another time, I bought her a new leg.















Unfortunately, she's been pissing me off lately. She seems to like going potty OUTSIDE of the litterbox.















See, sometimes she barely even makes it in.

Lucky for her, she's pretty goddamn cute. In fact, she's so goddamn cute, that I gave her the opportunity to play a fun game with me.

It's called "If you don't shit in the litterbox every day, for the rest of your life, you're going to DIE, you son of a bitch".

The stakes are high.

Don't believe me? Well, check it out, she lost.

Saturday, April 18, 2009

Friday, April 17, 2009

the next tiger woods

So this past Saturday, I went golfing with my friend. He golfs pretty regularly, and it shows in his game. I haven't golfed for over a year, and it shows in my game. But whatever, it was a beautiful day, and I was ready to HIT SOME BALLS. HIT SOME MUHFUGGIN BALLS.

REALLY SLAP SOME BALLS AROUND.

It was just the two of us, and it was a busy day, so we paired up with 2 dudes behind us. Things were going great until we got to about the 13th, or 14th hole. My ball is probably 50 yards out from the hole, and the 2 other dudes are already done, and are just hanging out by the golf cart.

Grabbing my pitching wedge, I'm thinkin' that I'm gonna try to pop this ball up onto the green and 4-putt my way home, baby, whats up.

FYI: This absolutely did not happen.

I take my swing, and make perfect contact with the ball. Beautiful arc, a little to the right, but it'll probably be OK. I'm just happy to have a ball in the air.

Oh shit, it's heading right for their golf cart.

And the dude standing right next to it.

oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

"HEY!!!", I yell halfheartedly.

"FORE!!!", my buddy yells.

oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit oh shit

And there it is. The dude flinches.

DIRECT HIT!

My friend and I look at each other; immediately we notice the look of "HOLY SHIT THAT'S AWESOME!" in each other's eyes. At that very second we both erupt in uncontrollable laughter.

By now the other dude, that didn't get hit (lol), is up on the green, losing it. This guy is rofling, loling, lmao'ing, zomg'ing, and wtf'ing ten (10) times worse than either of us. Wow, another 4 or 5 holes to go. Awkward.

BUT!!!...lucky for us, that means that we have 4 or 5 more holes of potential hilarity.

So we're on the last hole, and you know I've got one more trick up my sleeve. Nothing like a little insult to injury.

I'm trying to pop my ball outta the sand dune (a recurring theme for the day), and the dude I hit earlier is walking up to the green on my right. After a couple horrible, failure-filled attempts to get the ball out of the sand, I finally succeed. No lie, I catch the ball just right, and it zings right by his face, not 2 feet in front of him. Unfortunately, rather than bouncing off his dome, and rolling into the hole, it flies right past him, and totally off the green.

Holy shit I thought he was going to kill me. Yeah right, I'll bust out my crowbar-iron, and see what he wants to say.

This was probably the best day of my life. Seriously, Caddyshack type stuff.

I was totally going to give these guys business cards for my blog, so they could read the write-up, but sadly, I forgot.

Thursday, April 16, 2009

the drycleaners, man

OK, so check this. Here's a quick run-down of my experiences at the dry cleaner on Good Friday '09, baby. Not sure why I capitalized "good" lol. Actually, it's because good turned into GREAT, when I realized I had the day off. And if you're an algebra-buff like me at all, you'll realize that "good" + "GREAT" = Good, with a capital G. Whatever, that was stupid lol.

Good Friday started by me sleeping in. Felt real good. Then I took a SHIT...

...LOAD of my work clothes to the dry cleaners down the road. I have this big ass bag that was stuffed so full with clothes, that it was actually heavy. Obviously I picked it up effortlessly, but a lesser man shan't attempt such a feat.

I get out my dope ride, and walk into the dry cleaners, and...

AAAAHHHHH!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT THING ON YOUR LIP?!?!?!

The chick working there had two (2) brutal, monstrous scabs (not my ferret, named "scab" lol) on her lip. HOLY CRAP! I'm not so sure how clean my clothes can get if they're cleaned by some herpe-ridden troglodyte, na mean?

But yo, hold up. It get's worse.

Not only is Herplady dry cleaning my clothes, but they're not gonna be done until Monday evening. And I gots to work on Monday MORNING. WTF is I gonna do?

Don't fret, friends. We have this new deal at work where if you pay $2 IN ADVANCE, you can wear jeans on Monday. Lucky for me, I have clean jeans like woah. However, I won't be paying in advance. I hope I don't get fired, or something. Rest assured, you'll be the first to know if I join the ranks of the jobless.

Honestly though, I'd been trying to avoid actually paying to wear jeans to work. I was tempted to just walk in with like some workout shorts. What's next, paying to be able to enter the building?

Paying for internet usage at work?

Shoot, if work were anything like my home-life, I'd be sitting around in my underwear, telling my cat how awesome I am.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

CONGRATULATIONS TO HECK YEAH, WOMAN!

HECK YEAH, WOMAN JUST GOT HER MASTER'S DEGREE!

CONGRATULATIONS AGAIN, HY, W!!!

- FROM ALL OF US AT HECK YEAH, MAN (.blogspot.com)

So, in the spirit of HUMP DAY PUMP UP, we are going to PUMP YOU UP with this awesome video!

Only watch this if you're a fan of good-ass music...

...Or if you're PUMPED THE FUCK UP for HECK YEAH, WOMAN



We're off celebrating, but we'll be back tomorrow with the regularly scheduled shitty blog-post.

EMERGENCY PUMP UP

I am receiving reports that some motherfuckers are currently not very pumped up. Lucky for those MOTHERFUCKERS, I'm here to remedy that:



HOLY SHIT I'M TYPING THIS UP RIGHT NOW, AND I'M LITERALLY SHAKING, I'M SHAKING SO HARD THAT I CAN'T EVEN CONTROL MY MOUSE. IT'S LIKE MY MOUSE HAS A LIFE OF IT'S OWN. IT'S NAVIGATING IT'S WAY OVER TO YOUTUBE, AND HOLY SHIT IT'S POSTING THIS.

OH MY GOD, I'M TRYING TO TYPE AND ALL I CAN THINK ABOUT IS HOW PUMPED UP I AM. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NO REASON FOR YOU TO NOT LISTEN TO THIS VIDEO WITH THE VOLUME ALL THE WAY UP.



Because this is a HUMP DAY PUMP UP INTERVENTION EMERGENCY PUMP UP, it is absolutely essential that the following video is viewed daily.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

can you believe this guy?

Man, what a dick. That guy's got some nerve.

This asshole comes to work early every day, works hard, and succeeds at his job. Then this jackass takes a half hour lunch most days, so he can take care of some administrative tasks.

And for what?

Just to perform better at his job?

This dick must have some balls to pull shit like that.

He took a job in a field where his paycheck is based almost totally on personal performance, and is generally one of the higher paying fields in most companies. This particular area of work is open to just about anybody, and he had to go ahead and send in a resume. Then he interviewed for the job - and he got it! Most likely, his hiring was based on his previous successes, and also on his potential to succeed at this current job!

Who hires somebody like that!?

He works hard, has better results than most, makes some money, and he buys a new car. I can't believe he would do that! He didn't buy anything crazy expensive, just a nice car, that he deserved. It's just horrible that he was allowed to do that.

Not only is he good at his job, and handsome, but he dresses well. This son-of-a-bitch is good enough at his job where he can make some decent money to afford to buy nicer dress clothes. And then he wears those nice clothes to work!

Who does this asshole think he is!?!?!

This bastard is reaping the rewards of not only his hard work, but also being good at what he does, and nobody is doing a damn thing!

Oh man, I really hate people like that.

Monday, April 13, 2009

one morning at work

No lie, this is a fact-based account of a morning, a couple weeks ago. This story is complete, and utter bullshit. Bullshit in the sense that I can't believe this actually happened, not in the sense that it didn't actually happen.

So yeah, this actually happened - all before lunchtime.

I'd love to be able to recount the events that occurred during, and after lunch, but my mind was absolutely too blown to function properly. Besides, nothing cool happened anyway.

So I get into work about 7:40 that day. No biggie, I fire up my computer, do a couple things, and go to grab some tea around 8:15. Usually by this time, most people that work full-time are at work, working.

Not this one chick. Nah, she was cooking herself up some eggs. Eggs - like as in breakfast - fuckin' eggs. Not sure about you, but I eat my breakfast BEFORE I come to work. I do this for 2 reasons:

1. I'm pretty sure eating breakfast is not in my job description. Even if it were, I know for a fact that I would feel like a FUCKING RETARD, if I were nom-nom-nom'ing on some eggs at my desk. Not to mention the time it would take to cook them. Seriously, 3 words: what the fuck. But for real, 2 more words: fuck you.

2. The second reason I eat breakfast at MY HOME, rather than at MY JOB, is because, from the second I finish eating, I have less than 30 seconds before I'm gonna have to be "nukin' dat terlet". And that's best not done within 5 miles of somebody that can fire me.

OK, so the breakfast situation was pretty messed up. Whatever, I bust through some of my daily duties, and then I have a meeting at 10am. Cool, sometimes I like meetings, sometimes I don't. But I always find time to zone out, and think up ideas for the blog...so it works out. With that in mind, today's meeting was productive.

I think it's fair to assume that when you have a meeting, you put your cell phone on vibrate, or silent. That's a fair assumption, right? Haha I guess not. Not only did this chick have her cell phone ring twice - she answered them both times! No shit, she answered her phone, while still in the meeting, and then, AND THEN, decided to get up, and take the call.

WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU FUCKING SHITTING ME?!?!?

It must have been an emergency right?

Indeed, I think it was pretty serious. Judging by how well I could hear her giggling outside the conference room, I would guess - death in the family.

I'm having t-shirts printed: "I attended this meeting, and all I got was this stupid blog."

An hour and a half later, I'm just itching to get back to my computer to type up the rough draft of this blog.

Friday, April 10, 2009

weather report

Gainesville is having reports of humidity increasing by more than 150%. This is possibly due to the fact that I just laid a steamer that rivals the size of a football.

We have no official reports of when the humidity will subside, but we do know one thing: there is a hideous odour accompanying the increase in humidity.

According to Wikipedia, humidity is the amount of water vapor in the air. The chances of precipitation, dew, and fog, are all determined by the humidity. I wonder what term they have for the amount of steamy shit vapor in the air, and how that steamy shit vapor affects the chance of precipitation, dew, and fog.

While this massive log that just slithered out from my bum does in fact have a slight brown haze emanating off of it, I'm not quite sure if I'd call it a fog. Also worth noting is that it is very pungent. It almost looks as if it's sweating.

Keep checking back for updates on the weather.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

nature vs nurture / roflometer

Ok, here's the deal: Heckyeah-woman is a scientist. Like the real deal type of scientist, like performing cruel experiments on animals, measuring data, using a soldering iron, and reading books about science.

But for real, she works in a lab; and I've heard her talk about chemicals and other scientific things. Just the other day, she was talking about reports, graphs, charts, and other things that scientists use. It's pretty impressive.

Sometimes we hang out with her lab-mate scientist peers. And boy, let me tell you, it's like rubbing elbows with the scientific elite. They're all saying scientific things like, "chambers", "science", "subtle contingencies", "research", among other big intimidating words.

And I'm a goddamn salesman.

Sales, science. Salesman, scientist. Helping some CEO get richer, performing scientific experiments for the greater good of humanity.

WELL I GOT SOMETHING TO SAY HECKYEAH-WOMAN! I CAN DO SCIENTIFIC THINGS TOO!

















Clearly, these reactions to my awesome blog were measured very carefully. This is evidenced by the fact that these finding are presented to you in pie chart form. Cause like, seriously, only a new jack pseudo-science schmuck would try to pass off some un-scientific haphazardly collected data, in something as serious as a pie chart.

Also, notice the scientific nature of the title of this blog post:

Scientific concept / Scientific-sounding word

I also took the liberty to construct another scientific chart. This chart takes the form of a bar graph. When things are presented in bar graphs and pie charts, they're automatically true (and scientific). See below.

















FYI, Heckyeahwoman, if you're reading, there are now TWO scientists in this household, what.

Wednesday, April 8, 2009

HUMP DAY PUMP UP

A couple months ago, we went to China to visit my mom. It was awesome. I totally meant to do like a big-ass write up for it, but I guess I never did, lol. Whatever, it was a goddamn blast. Let's revisit part of this trip through the eyes of HUMP DAY PUMP UP!

Naturally, the first thing my brother and I do when we land in Hong Kong is immediately go on a search for supplements, fuck yeah.


































We sprinkled tons of this shit all over our rice and noodles. Oh man that shit shot through us like a laser, and we went on a search for...well, check the sign below.















Lucky for us, we found one pretty quickly. Unlucky for us, we had to poop into a hole in the ground















Whatever, I may have just shat into a hole in the ground, but I'm still as pumped up as ever. Let's shit all over today.

Tuesday, April 7, 2009

juked by marketing

I have this friend, I used to work with him; he's a cool-ass dude, works in marketing, and is very tall. My guess is that he's over 7 foot 2. I'm not sure. Anyway, he was first introduced to us in this blog where I recalled the events of one of the worst days of my life.

The phrase, "juked by marketing", comes to us from the first time we played basketball. He's considerably better than I am. He had spin-moves, crab dribbles, and all kinds of crazy stuff. Whenever he would juke right by me, and dunk it, I would say, "juked by marketing". Being that he works in marketing, it was kind of lolworthy, and it became kind of a running joke between us.

OK, I guess it's not that funny. But what is funny, is the last time I got "juked by marketing".

Every year he puts on his world famous Beer Olympics. February 2009 was no different. You drink like 18 beers over 1 day, and compete in games like darts, beer pong, ping pong, bocci ball, and other awesome games. It's a blast.

It's also down in Tampa. So I drove down Friday night, crashed at his place/in his bed, and got up early the next morning to help him set up. You know, like set up the beer pong table, get the ping pong table ready, prepare the bean bag toss set-up. Nothing too crazy, right.

"Hey man I got the cornhole set up, what else you need done?", I ask as it's getting close to game-time.

"Uh, um, there are a couple dog turds in the backyard, but I'm going to pick those up in a minute so we can play bocci ball back there. I think we're good to go though, I just have a couple more things to do", he tells me.

"Like what? Oh man I can just pick up the dog turds quick. You said there were just a few right?" Whatever, I don't mind picking up a few dog turds, man.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome, there's the pooper scooper over there", he says as he points in the garage.

"Cool, I'll do that quick."

"Awesome, thanks."

So I head back and start picking up dog turds. This should be quick, there's just a few, I'm ready to get my game on.

Not the case, my friends. The backyard was littered with dog shits that must have been months old. And tons of them. That backyard collected dog turds like a 14 year old face has pimples.

No lie, seriously 20 minutes later, I emerge from the fenced-in backyard, "I thought you said there were just a couple turds".

"Hey can you do the side of the house too? We're trying to play horseshoes over there." He sheepishly asks.

At this point, I'm not sure how much more juked by marketing I can get, so I go pick up the few remaining turds on the side of the yard.

By now, people are showing up, and getting ready to start the festivities for the day. Like he does every year, he goes through the rules for each game, and how each one is scored. When he finishes up, I notice something awry.

He explained horseshoes located on the side of the house, and cornhole in the front yard. But no bocci ball in the backyard.

You know, in the backyard, where I picked up about a million dog turds. SO WE COULD PLAY FUCKING BOCCI BALL.

juked by marketing

Monday, April 6, 2009

new hire

To: all employees

From: Jerry Smith

Subject: New Hire in Accounting Dept.

Date: March 27, 2009

I am pleased to announce the addition of Harold Gordon to our Accounting team! He will assume the position of Executive Accounting Assistant Specialist Coordinator. His primary duties will include, but are not limited to: operating a computer, playing solitaire, surfing the internet, pretending to be working, and staring at his co-workers' asses.

Harold comes back to us with about 3 years of experience with our company in the past, and twice as many years spent on probation for drug-related charges, not to mention the short stint of hard time he served. He is part of a new county program for ex-con felon drug abusers. This program helps to rehabilitate ex-con felon drug abusers, and transitions them into society, by providing each a steady job. We are excited to have this former sex offender junke on our team.

During his free time, Harold enjoys doing drugs, selling drugs, consuming large amounts of alcohol, and driving while under the influence of either. Harold is excited about his new position, and is currently “high as hell”. He lives in the Gainesville area with both mother, and his massive bong.

Please join me in welcoming Harold back to our team. Here’s to his first full month of being clean/sober!

Friday, April 3, 2009

she certainly didn't do it: the author's thoughts

I just typed this whole story up, the whole while, replaying these events in my mind countless times. It was quite an experience...definitely one of the most emotionally investing pieces I've ever done.

Anyway, I had a couple final thoughts on this epic blogpost.

1. When I saw that lard ass take out a chunk of that bumper, I immediately thought, 'what a fat bitch, I hope she dies'. The truth is, I know I am predisposed to being disgusted by fat, slovenly gargantuan chunks of shit. But what if it would have been a hot ass broad with hardly any clothes on? What would I have thought if she had done the same thing? Hell, I probably would have taken the blame, if she was showing enough cleavage lol.

What if it was some dude that did it? I'd probably just think, 'what a fucking douchebag'. I think almost all guys I don't know, who aren't me, are douchebags.

What if I was the one who did it? Maybe don't leave your car parked where I could potentially walk into it, dumbass.

2. Oddly enough, this was supposed to be a monstrous 2 part tale, of epic proportions. Unfortunately, I didn't get to the main characters until the second post. And that ain't cool. So here are a couple gems I had to take out:

I had the following paragraph typed up detailing my breakfast, and the ensuing bathroom incidents: "Virtually inhaling my cereal and protein shake, cause your boy gots to eat, I slam the empty cereal bowl and protein shake-drinker-thingy on the coffee table in a brief rage of accomplishment. Now, the first real challenge of the morning awaits me: elimination. For a good 20 minutes I test the limits of human endurance as I wage a one-man war on the porcelain throne. Sorry, I would have used "one person", but this was a war only a man is fit for. After a battle like that, you know a shower is in order. My bowels need cleansing."

I also decided to take out a part of the story where I exchanged an item I bought last time I was at that Wal-Mart (where the story takes place, well Wal-Mart, and it's parking lot). You see, a couple weeks ago I mistakenly bought a pack of AAA batteries, when I really needed AA batteries. Obviously, this part had no real relevance to the story.

Worth noting were the few times where I said something awesome, but it had no significance to the story, so I dropped it. At one point (before the story really got moving), I said, "don't call me, I'll call you". I've always wanted to say that. Despite the fact that it was a perfect opportunity to use that phrase, it really didn't add anything to the story. So it's out. Also, I referred to a cashier as a "broad". Again, no real relevance to the main events of the story, so it's out. Still, pretty cool things to say.

Thursday, April 2, 2009

she certainly didn't do it

Hello, and thank you for joining me for today's edition of Heck Yeah, Man. Today's story involves a short tale of destruction, deception, and painful wounds that may never be mended.. I apologize for bringing you this story already in progress, however, I believe the events detailed below will speak for themselves. Please join me as we jump into this story that is currently unfolding:

Having just left the building, I am now walking through the parking lot..

On my way out to my car, I reach into my pocket to grab my keys, and what do I find? A whole lotta empty pocket, that's what I find. I guess I must have left them inside , so I head back. Sure enough, there they were, so now it's back out to the car. Finally, goddammit. Right ahead of me I see a fat lady, The Obese Woman, waddling to her car. She has 2 very full bags, one in each hand, hanging at her side. It is right then when she is about to walk past The Green Blazer.

At this point, I'm not really paying much attention, except for how unsavory this woman's back rolls appear to be. Right at that very moment, I hear an almost ripping sound, coming from the Green Blazer. My eyes confirm that as this fat tub of shit was walking past the rear bumper of the blazer, her left bag caught on a little piece of the bumper, and actually yanked part of it right off. Crazy, I know.

But seriously, part of this bumper has been torn off the car, and is now just dangling there. This excessively obese woman, this human glutton of filth and waste, just now realizes what happened.

"I certainly didn't do it!" she proudly proclaims, as she looks around to see if anyone saw her, in fact, do it.

She sees me, "is this car yours? I don't know what happened."

"No ma'am, it's not my car. Your bag actually caught this part of the bumper, and it completely tore part of it off", I reply to her, trying to break the bad news as lightly as possible - you know, to avoid this human elephant from stampeding over me.

She defends the careless waddling of her bovine-esque figure, "I didn't do that, it musta been like that".

"I don't know, it looks like you tore it off pretty good there. I watched you walk right into it", I tell her, even though I'm pretty sure it was probably pretty broken before she got there.

Her beady little eyes dart around, looking for any sign of the owner of the vehicle. She looks nervous. I can practically smell her anxiety. That, and the putrid stench of being in such close proximity to such a swollen looking hosebeast. And all of a sudden my elephantine sea-hag butterball friend walks away, still keeping a watchful eye out for the owners of the green blazer.

Just like that, it's over. As I walk to my car, I am immediately immersed with ideas for the blog potential of this event.

Thank you for joining me for, "she certainly didn't do it". I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed telling it.

Wednesday, April 1, 2009

HUMP DAY PUMP UP IS STILL HERE

THAT'S RIGHT! HUMP DAY PUMP IS HERE! FOR NOW, AT LEAST!

Today, I want you to get pumped up with arguably one of the greatest lines, from probably the greatest movie, ever. This scene is a must see. It is the very essence of HUMP DAY PUMP UP.

This scene is 100% lolworthy, even if you've never seen the movie before. Please, please, do yourself a favor, and watch this brief little clip.



Some blogs may go to 10, you know, in terms of being awesome, but here at Heck Yeah, Man, we go to 11. We're one awesomer. Well actually, we're a whole lot more than just 1 awesomer, but in the context of this post, we are 1 awesomer.