Monday, August 31, 2009

trying to find a hotel

We're tying to book a trip over Labor Day weekend, coming up at the end of this week. It's awesome, I have off Friday AND Monday.

I began my search for a dope ass hotel the other night.

After arguing literally for hours, over WHERE we were going, we came to an agreement. Nice, that was easier than the last time we had to choose where to go on vacation! I'm really starting to be able to look past all the tears and name-calling, and just look forward to this trip!

That's all well and good, we know where we're going, but WHERE THE HELL ARE WE GONNA STAY?

I usually hit up like priceline or roomsaver or something, to find a bunch of hotels in the area. Finally, I found a couple close to the beach. It took forever because I think the website was broken or something - when I had to type in "location", I put in "THE FUCKING BEACH, YOU PUSSY SHITHEAD", and that didn't return any results. Then when it asked me for a price range to sort by, I typed in "FUCKING AWESOME AND EXPENSIVE AS SHIT". Again, that didn't work so well.

So then I just googled, "THE SWEETEST FUCKING HOTEL EVER, ON THE BEACH FUCK YEAH". Not surprisingly, that didn't generate the kind of results I was looking for. Heading back to priceline, I did a more traditional search, and found just what I was looking for.

3 hours later, I had it narrowed down to 2 dope ass hotels, you're damn right I did. So you know what I did next?

You wanna know what I did?

Yeah, that's right, I went to tripadvisor to scope out these shitty ass know, see what kind of reviews they got. I came across this particular review that pretty much had me sold.

First, the reviewer gave it 5 stars. FUCK YEAH

The title was "everything was awesome". DOUBLE FUCK YEAH. With a title like that, I almost just immediately booked it, however, I read on:

"My husband and I stayed here July 10th - 12th and it was excellent. The room was very neat and clean, we were less than 1/2 a block away from the beach. Excellent accomodations for a very reasonable price. We will definitely stay here again."

Sounds like a great deal to me!

BUT! The very next line was like a curveball right uspide the dome.

"We ate breakfast at the Shoneys onsite and it was also excellent."

I see what's going on here. We're dealing with some Shoney's-eating motherfuckers. Not cool. Way to totally invalidate your entire review, by not only eating at a shitty Shoney's, but by referring to it as "excellent". I've (unfortunately) been to Shoney's before, and the only thing excellent about it was the really awesome feeling I got when we would finally leave that shithole.

The last experience I remember from Shoney's was a Saturday night BBQ Buffet. Yeah, I know, I'm ashamed about eating BBQ anywhere other than Adam's Rib Co. But it was so disgusting, there was BBQ sauce on everything. The meat, the veggies, the serving ladles, the serving spoons, the plates, the glasses; everything was sticky, everything was gross. Holy shit that pisses me off. FUCK YOU SHONEY'S.

Anyway, back to the hotel search - you wanna know what I did? Well, besides writing a sweet blog about it, I booked that hotel so furiously. We won't be eating at the Shoney's, but we will be eating the shit out of everything else.

Saturday, August 29, 2009

NEW POLL!!!! ================>>>>>>

Back to school is just around the corner, and you need some new threads. Good news! We're finally getting closer to official heck yeah, man shirts. This is the time of year for you to look your best

I'm going to put them up for sale for whatever they cost to make. I'm not looking to make any money (we all know I've got enough of that already lol!), but instead to just get you outfitted in the freshest, dopest, tightest, flyest, most dope, sweetest, awesomest, coolest back to school gear possible.

Pics to come.

Friday, August 28, 2009

the bookshelf

GD, I was in like my sophmore year of college and I had to take a literature class. Being that it was a literature class, I had to pick up a bunch of great works of fiction. Ok cool, I'm gonna buy a bunch of books that I'm never gonna read.


I got through the class, actually read a couple of the books, enjoyed a few, and got like a B or something. Not a bad grade, considering my only real goal was to smash at least 4 of the chicks from that class.

So the semester ends, and I usually tried to trade in as many textbooks as I can. You know, to see if I can get a little money back, or something. All the books were just hanging out on my bookshelf, and as I'm going through them, and putting them in backpack to take to the book store, I see the 8 or 9 novels sitting there on the shelf.

Then it hits me: I can't trade these novels in.

They look so eloquent sitting there. Like yeah, I read those goddamn books (not really), and they're like a badge of honor.

Furthermore, bitches love dudes who are well-read. Or dudes who appear to be well-read. Surely some box would be impressed by my cliche collection of 8 or 9 novels.

So I kept the books.

I kept them sitting there on my bookshelf, front and center.

Those books, and that bookshelf, stayed with me for the duration of my college career. The bitches would come and go, but those books on that bookshelf were always there for me. Whenever I'd con some twat into coming back to my place, I'd try to impress her with my awesome punk & hardcore cd collection. Funny how some bitches ain't appreciate Strife's "In This Defiance" for the masterpiece that it is. Except for those noise tracks, those suck.

When that didn't work, I'd bust out the secret weapon: the books.

I'd be all smooth about it, slyly drawing attention to the bookshelf. Sometimes, I'd set their drink down right on the bookshelf, right in front of the books. Other times, I'd leave a book out on my dresser, and when we'd enter my room, I'd pick up the book (something classy, yet suggestive) like Lolita, and put it back on the shelf, slowly.

Slowly enough for her to see what I was doing.

One time I was trying so hard to impress this broad with multiple books: Dr. Zhivago, some Graham Greene novel, and my boi Camus. It got to the point where I was throwing the goddamn books at her. Finally after enough whiskey, I just blurted out, "dag ,wutz a playa got 2 do 2 hit dat, shawtie?"

There was no hitting of anything that night.

Though I am proud to say that yeah, that bookshelf did spark a few conversations. Unfortunately, they were mostly with nerdy bitches that weren't DTF anyway. Whatever, that just gave me an excuse to practice my "get drunk and verbally abuse/degrade/berate"-styled pick-up lines.

Now that I think about it - overall, that bookshelf did more harm than good.

Don't worry, there's a happy ending! You'll probably be pleased to know that I outgrew that phase, and actually now read all the books I buy. Well, at least I INTEND to read them.

Have a blessed weekend, everybody!

Thursday, August 27, 2009

political lols of the day

Maybe I should have titled it simply, "politiclolz". I don't know, sorry.

Something just struck me as kind of funny. I hear a lot of people taking about the founding fathers, and how great they were. But then I see these same people voting for Barack Obama, John McCain, George Bush, etc. I'm not sure if any of these guys actually know what the constitution is.

I have a feeling that the founding fathers are rolling over in their graves right now. Well, they would be rolling if they weren't totally eaten by worms and maggots and stuff.


OK, I feel better now that I wrote something about that.

Actually, you what? I'm not done. There's a lot of talk about health care reform in the news. Yeah, I think everybody should have access to health care. Of course, having an inept government in charge of overhauling it is SCARY AS FUCK. Almost everything the government touches, goes broke. BUT THAT'S NOT THE POINT.

THIS IS THE POINT: I don't want to pay for some fat fuck to go to the doctor. Most of you know that I HATE FAT PEOPLE with all of my might, so this should come as no surprise. In fact, I'm tossing around the idea of starting an entirely new blog, dedicated solely to fat people. I'll keep you updated on that.

Anyway, I know it's probably hard to grasp simple concepts with the president's balls in your mouth, but let me lay it out for you: YOUR tax dollars are going to subsidize fat motherfuckers' health care.


And when that runs out, the US is going to borrow money from CHINA to pay for fat asses' health care/twinkies.


So when this country goes broke in 5, 10, or 15 years, you know who to blame?

Fat people.


It's not HUMP DAY PUMP UP anymore, but this video needs to be posted for maximum politiclolz.

The band is The Right Brothers; and the song is, "Bush Was Right". Holy lol. What do we got here?

Hillbilly lookin' motherfuckers? CHECK
Worst lyrics ever? CHECK
Stupid, but catchy little lead guitar parts? CHECK
Retarded rip-off of "We Didn't Start the Fire"? CHECK
Horribly incorrect band name? CHECK

You know it's bad when a tool like Keith Olbermann effectively rips on you.


Back to the founding fathers:

Thomas Jefferson once famously said this: ”If people let the government decide what blogs they read and what posts they comment on, their brains will soon be in as sorry a state as are the souls who live without HUMP DAY PUMP UP fuck yeah.”

Well said, Teej.

Benjamin Franklin said: “those who would give up essential liberty, to purchase a little temporary blog-action, deserve neither 'heck yeah', nor ', man'”

I couldn't agree with you more, B-Frank.

The orginal G-Dub (George Washington) said: "Is you a po?"

Sorry to say that I'm not a po, G-Dub.


Wednesday, August 26, 2009


This is a HUMP DAY PUMP UP that needs to be posted. These are songs that need to be heard. Forget all the nostalgic 90's hardcore business, quit yearning for the good old days.

You don't see these bands on stage, crying about how everything used to be better. These bands all got together, and they all wrote music, for one important cause.

More important than any one issue you could think of.

They wrote these songs to PUMP YOU UP. They wrote these songs with HUMP DAY PUMP UP in mind. I almost feel honored, to be posting these songs, and PUMPING YOU UP with them, 10-15 years later.

There's really only one question that needs answering:


This shit is EPIC(ure).


Ok, check this out, I went biking this past weekend, and took my sweet new bike off-road. It was awesome. Till I took a massive digger. Somehow my pedal scraped the shit out of the back of the bottom of my right leg, and the thing bruised way the hell up. It seriously looks like I have 2 calf muscles lol. Pretty messed up.

But what the fuck do you think I did? I didn't just stand there in the middle of some sandy dirt trail and start crying.

Hell nah, I got up, brushed the dirtz off my shoulder, and screamed the lyrics to this song as loud as I could. Heck yeah I did, right there in the woods.

That did the trick - it PUMPED ME RIGHT UP. I literally flew through the rest of the trail. My bike was like 2 inches off the ground all the way back.

After I got off the dirt trail, and back to the paved part, I ain't stop. Hell nah, I biked around for a another 3 days, yesterday afternoon. And the whole time I was doin' that, THIS SONG WAS PLAYING IN MY HEAD.


Oh wait, not American? That's OK! Yo, alla y'all foreigners out there, I got you with this one.

Wow, that PUMP was just what the doctor ordered. Not only am I PUMPED UP, but I'm PISSED OFF TOO.

Being PISSED & PUMPED: can't beat it.

Tuesday, August 25, 2009

the asshole test

Being an asshole myself, I'm always on the lookout for other assholes. With that in mind, I devised a nice little test, designed to detect fellow assholes, under certain circumstances.

First, we must start with the assumption that assholes don't wash their hands after using a restroom...especially a filthy PUBLIC restroom. A real asshole will just walk right in, recreate Chernobyl in the terlet (or just take a whizz), and walk right back out without even thinking of washing his/her hands.

Now for the asshole-exposing trickery: take all the paper towels out from the paper towel dispenser, and just wait. Please note that emptying out the soap dispenser works too. Though, some assholes have been known to do the "quick rinse", eschewing soap altogether - this is a different post for a different day.

Anyway, whatever you choose to empty, A real asshole won't even notice, because he or she didn't bother to wash his or her hands. A non-asshole will notice, because after the hands are washed, the hands will need to be dried. And when the towel dispenser is out, motherfuckers are gonna get rowdy.

Lucky for me, at work, one of the towel dispensers ran out, and we didn't have anything to fill it with. That's what triggered my thinking up this genius little asshole test.

Let's go through a couple of the conversations I had:

Potential Asshole #1: Oh hey man, you know where they keep the paper towels for the bathroom? The dispenser is out.

Me: Good to hear, friend. Any man who washes his hands, is a friend of mine. Sorry, but we're actually out.

Potential Asshole #1: I know, I walked out of there with dripping wet, yet still clean, hands. Truly a hand washer's paradox.

Me: Never forget, you are not the asshole! Though I feel your pain, my brother, together we must stand in solidarity against the unclean anti-hand washing assholes out there, trying to infect our world with unsanitary hands, one dirty finger at a time.

And another illustration of this test in progress:

Me: (As I exit the bathroom, and encounter a potential asshole in the kitchen, I see him handling food with his bare hands, and immediately question his potentially unsanitary ways) Hi there friend, how's it going today? Say, do you know where they keep extra hand towels for the dispenser in the bathroom?

Potential Asshole #2: Heh heh, I have no idea.

Me: You have no idea about what?

Potential Asshole #2: I don't know where they keep the hand towels, what's your problem?

Me: A-HA - EXPOSED! The dispenser has been out for 2 days now! Either you haven't used the terlet for 2 days, which is kind of weird, OR YOU'RE A NON-HAND WASHING ASSHOLE! My money's on the latter! Admit your sins, and bow before me, asshole.

Potential Asshole #2: What are you talking about?

Me: You just took a massive shit, your finger poked through the toilet paper by accident when you were wiping (lol), you didn't wash your hands, and now you're feloniously handling food you're about to put in your mouth! You vile heathen!

Potential Asshole #2: Actually, while you're right about the finger poking through the toilet paper part, I washed my hands in the bathroom, and dried them off with the paper towels over here.

Me: Oh, well I guess you did wash your hands then, huh?

Potential Asshole #2: Yeah.

Me: Oh. You're still an asshole. Get back to work.

Here, we take a very blunt approach, and discover a real asshole:

Me: Oh, did you know the paper towels in the bathroom are out?

Potential Asshole #3: No, I had no ide-


I was so pissed off upon discovering this asshole, that I had to warn everybody else in the company. The best way to do that is with a company-wide email:

To: all_employees
Date: Wednesday August 19 2:31 pm
Subject: Asshole Discovery

To Whom it May Concern:

Through advanced methods of trickery, an asshole of the highest order has been exposed. This is not related to Sally wearing that really short skirt again. From this day on, Jerry Harris shall be known only as "Asshole". Wait, don't capitalize the "A", we can't give him that much respect. It shall be just, "asshole".

Thank you for your time, and please visit this website for more information:


The staff at heck yeah, man

With that said, let's go asshole hunting!

Monday, August 24, 2009

monday mash

Usually when I talk about mashing something, I'm generally referring to some goomba runnin' his mouth at the bar. That, or some broad on the hunt for some dong.

So there I am, just mindin' my own business, man; and this motherfuckin' potato walks over to me, and starts talkin' shit. Being a fair man, I give it a chance to shut it's fuckin' trap, before the motherfuckin' mashing begins. Unfortunately for it, it doesn't stfu.

Sure enough, I reach my limit. Hey, I gave you a fair warning, son. Now you're about to get mashed, chump. Fortunately for me, I mashed the shit out of you into this supremely tasty looking mashed potato bowl.

Somehow you still managed to run your mouth.

And somehow you got turned into this awesome mashed potato cone.

Christ, then I bumped into a couple twinks just looking for trouble. It went from bad to worse when I had to tell then not once, but twice, that "I don't want to go spray tanning with their bitch-asses".

And of course they had some hot ass guido skanks that needed a good mashing too.

But wait wait wait wait, FYI, I didn't mash the dude on the right. I let my buddy, The Tall Dude with the awesome web comic, have a crack at it. I just mashed the two hot ones.

Friday, August 21, 2009


Holy shit today's Friday!


I got up this morning, and dropped a MASSIVE deuce. After I let that shit soak up all the terlet water, I flushed it right down. Unfortunately, the TERD soaked up all the water in the toilet, so it left some of the most brutal skidmarks ever.


You can probably notice a couple corn kernels in there too. As you can imagine, I was freakin' out, man.

After that disaster, I peaced out, told my cat to fuck off, and got in my car to head to work.

Clearly, I was freakin' out, man.

No big deal, bruh, just getting my motherfuckin' morning started. Without a second thought, I blasted the tunes, and rolled all my windows down as I damn near ran over some bag lady. The tunes were loud as fuck, and I was freakin' out, man.

After what seems like an eternity on the road, I finally get close to the office. Right after nearly t-boning some minivan full of kids n shit, I drunkenly swerve into the parking lot, and like 5 parked cars appear out of nowhere WHAT THE FUCK.

Holy shit, we were all freakin' out, man.

Take a chill pill, pussies, it's just your cars, and you probably got insurance (haha, well I guess a few of you shitheads are stuck inside the cars, lol that sucks). So we got flames, people cryin', motherfuckers burnin' up, and cars all exploding and shit. All I'm tryin' to do is put in an honest day's work. Out of nowhere, this asshole comes up to me and starts cryin' about being all charred and shit.

Yo I ain't got time for that. I'm in sales, sucka; and time is money, baby whats up. I was freakin' out, man.

After this dickhead gets the fo out mah face, I finally enter the office building. By this time, everybody's looking out the windows at whats going on, and most of 'em are just staring, aghast. Like they were silently freaking out, man. Whatever, I just went into my office and had a nice little Friday.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

it was so cold

We left for the beach Thursday afternoon.

After driving for a couple hours, and enduring a shitty thunderstorm, the weather finally cleared, and it got beautiful out, right as we arrived. Despite the shitty weather, it was an enjoyable drive down. My brother slept, his ladyfriend read a magazine; all the while, heckyeahwoman just gazed lovingly at me.

Finally we get close to Tampa, and as the traffic gets worse, everybody starts getting really pumped up. I don't know, this was Thursday, so maybe they were just recalling the sweet HUMP DAY PUMP UP from the day before. Things got crazy when the Maroon 5 album ended, and my brother's girlfriend took control of the tunes. She busted out a shitload of awesome songs, blasts from the past, and bad ass songs I'd never heard before.

So whatever, we stopped at the grocery store and picked up some brews, and something to NOM NOM NOM all up on.

Oh man, we were so pumped up, we just arrived at the hotel on the beach. I love the beach! We had no idea that the weather, right now, was about as nice as it would be over the next couple days. So what the fuck do you think we did? We turned the goddamn AIR CONDITIONING ALL THE WAY UP, and changed into our swimsuits so we could hit the beach like a backtalking wife.

You bet we did.

It was lol, we noticed that there were 2 space heaters in the hotel room. Lol @ needing space heaters in FLORIDA. On the beach. Whatever, that ain't stop us from from turning the AC to 45 before we left.

No worries, we enjoyed the crap out of the beach, and spent a good hour there. By the time we got back, we were pretty hungry, and ready to get some food. Wouldn't you know, the minute we open the door to the room, the girls simultaneously let out a huge, "OMG IT'S FREEZING!".

My brother and I looked at eachother with the exact same idea: let's turn the fucking space heaters on!

Hangin' out on a hotel on the beach, blastin' the AC, chillin' with the space heaters on, drinking an ice cold beer, life is good.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

scott vogel trampoline BONUS PUMP


This PUMP brought to you by the man who once yelled, "OOHHHAHHH I FUCKIN' LOVE HARDCORE", mid-breakdown.

warning: if you're not prepared for the PUMP, you may start convulsing upon viewing.

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: scott vogel edition

Oh man, after that brutal post from yesterday, I need a PUMP UP more than ever. People seemed to like the non-hardcore HUMP DAY PUMP UP from last week.

Sorry to disappoint.

Today, I really need the hardest, most brutal, awesome PUMP known to man. And that PUMP comes in the form of BURIED ALIVE. Whenever times are tough, and things are looking difficult, there's always one man you know you can turn to: Scott Vogel. This man is a walking PUMP. We might make this a continuing mini-pump-series. I'm not sure yet.

This shit gets me so PUMPED UP that I don't even know how I'm able to sit at my desk and work today. My head should be exploding. It's never easy coming back into work from vacation, but if you watch the whole video, you'll be able to fly, man.

Check out around 2:33.

One more PUMP for this shitty little Wednesday. Sorry, the video quality on this one kind of sucks. BUT THE PUMP UP IS STILL THERE. Watch now.

And you know what else? It appears our internetz are finally back up for good at home. PUMPED UP

Tuesday, August 18, 2009

Happy Toothsday!

Happy Toothsday! I gotta be honest, most likely this post won't really have much to do with a tooth, teeth, or Toothsday; but I just thought it would be a clever title.

For a post.

On a Tuesday.

But wow, what a week it was! My brother and his girlfriend just left yesterday afternoon. They flew in last Wednesday to hang out for a bit; and we had a blast. Even though the weather was shitty, we still managed to have a great time, and drink a lot.

Neither my brother nor his girlfriend are big drinkers. That didn't really change for her this past week; but it sure did for my brother. We played power hour almost every night, and got really shitty EVERY night.

Finally on the last night, we bought like 6 different flavors of a bunch of those malt energy alcoholic drinks (11%-12%, each), similar to a Sparks, or a Joose. I can't remember the brand, but there was tropical punch, grape, orange, watermelon, another flavor I can't remember, and some other brand called Vibe Max. We tried a sip of each one, and after deciding they all tasted like shit, we poured them all into one big ass pitcher.

Not surprisingly, the concoction tasted like shit too.

So we did what anybody would do - we drank the shit outta it.

We chugged all 6 of those 24 ounce cans in a little over 2 and a half hours. It was horrible. Not to be called pussies, we had to bust out the secret know, for maximum fuckedupness, on this, their last night in town.

There were these little 5-6 oz 12% alcohol flavor things on sale at the store. You add them to beer, wine, or whatever. I don't know, the dipshit behind the counter said they were awesome. So we bought one, and added it to a small glass of whiskey. It was "hot chocolate" flavored. Now that I think about it, I couldn't really even taste it.

But it was funny, when the dude at the store was trying to sell it to us, he showed us that it was 12% alcohol, and told us that if we added the 5-6 oz liquid or whatever, to the 24 oz can of liquor (also 12%), that it would double the alcohol content, making the drink 24% alcohol.

After I managed to wrap my head around that, I told him that he was "fucking dead wrong". He kind of smiled and chuckled nervously. Then I let him know just how wrong he was, and that "when you add any amount of 12% alcohol liquid, to another amount of 12% alcohol, the alcohol percentage REMAINS THE GODDAMN SAME, YOU SHITHEAD MOTHERFUCKER".

He just smiled sheepishly, and thanked us for the business.

Of course, drinking so furiously leads to crashing a little early, so around 12:30ish we went to bed. I sat up for a bit, cause I felt kinda sick. Finally feeling well enough to lay down, I fell asleep - only to be brutally and suddenly awakened by a waterfall of vomit shooting out of my mouth - and all over the bed, the carpet, the floor, the toilet (not in, but around), my chest, my underwear, everywhere. It was easily one of the most disgusting-looking scenes I have ever seen.

I ended up slipping on the puke, and falling down pretty hard (I don't remember), then I let loose another waterfall of puke all over myself. It was terrible.

A big thank you to heckyeahwoman for cleaning that up. It was truly one of the worst things I have ever seen.

Monday, August 17, 2009

things have gone wrong

Some of you may be aware that we just moved into a sweet new apartment a couple weeks ago. Unfortunately things haven't been too copacetic at heck yeah, man headquarters. A few things have gone wrong:

When we moved in, 2 electric outlets were not working in the living room. HOW THE FUCK ARE WE SUPPOSED TO PLUG IN THE LAPTOP?

We tried to cook a home-cooked meal one night, but the goddamn stove light was out. Not to be ones hampered by the small shit, we tried to check out the problem. Easily I unscrew the guard thing to check the bulb. No problem. The minute I reach in to unscrew the bulb, it FUCKING EXPLODES. With a "POOSH!", the goddamn bulb just blew up. Of course just the bulb part blew up, but the small screwed in part stayed screwed in. I was/am pissed.

It gets worse: One night I was just innocently doing the dishes, just washing away, man; and all of a sudden a pool of water collects in the sink. Thinking to myself about how much that growing puddle is pissing me off, I realize this shit ain't right. I flip on the garbage disposal, and a stream of murky shit-colored water shoots from out of the drain, and onto the dishes awaiting to be cleaned.

We had just skinned a shitload of potatoes, and I think that clogged it'd think the garbage disposal would be able to handle it. Guess not. I was literally steaming at this point.

Just the other goddamn day I was cleaning my sink out for our guests that were soon to arrive. Everything was going great until I went to plug the drain to wash it out a little, when I hear a "SNAP". And the stink stopper thing stays plugged. IT'S FUCKING BROKE.

Whatever little doohicky that connects the plugger to the little thing you pull to plug it, broke off. FUCKING BROKE. The sink is out of commission. We had guests not only brushing they teeth, but shaving in the kitchen sink. lol

Another thing, we keep finding random, long-ass black hairs every where. Not like pubes, but just long-ass hairs. Neither of us have black hair. That's pretty messed up.

Also, our internetz aren't working either. I've been doing blogs from work, from the hotel on vacation, and the goddamn coffee shop down the road. Holy lol @ going to a coffee shop. It's really pissing me off. The internet cuts in and out, and I haven't been able to check the grammar as well as I'd like to. Lol @ excuses.

And of course the biggest problem I suffer from, not only at our new apartment, but at anywhere I've ever lived: there are never enough tits in my face.

Otherwise everything is awesome.

Friday, August 14, 2009

what a crappy name

It was just another day at the office: people calling me, me calling people, putting together reports, reading spreadsheets, cnn, having meetings, promoting synergy, nasdaq, etc. Nothing out of the ordinary yet, but it’s only like 1:37 PM EST.

So there’s still time for something awesome to happen.

Now I want to warn you; I am going to use a name in this post. I never use names. Allow me to put it this way - if I didn’t use the name, we might have a lesser case of lols on our hands. Lol, read the title of this post.

Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get on with it.

I called one of my customers to say “what’s up”; and we actually ended up having a nice little conversation. She turned out to be just the person I needed to talk to for this particular account, and was very interested in what our company was doing for her. Upon ending our pleasant little dialogue, I said something about not catching her name, and she was happy enough to tell me.

“Melitha”, she said.

Like a jackass, I reply, “Melitha”.

She confirms, “Melitha”.

Chuckling to myself, the absurdity of the situation hits me.

It hits me hard.

Hard as hell.

Before we hung up, she had another couple things to talk about; so obviously as she’s talking, I’m listening furiously to see if this bitch has got a serious lisp or what. In fact, I listened so furiously that I don’t even know what she asked. My replies where probably just a retarded supply of “yeah” and “sure”.

In fact, I wasn't even paying attention, and she asked me a question about something. I had no idea what the hell she was talking about. "I'm sorry Melitha, what was that?"

I didn’t notice a lisp or anything earlier when we were talking, just when she said her name. Maybe it really is “Melitha”.

I don't know, that's kind of a shitty name.

Thursday, August 13, 2009

a picture is worth a thousand wordz

Wow, after that PUMP UP from yesterday, I am still SO PUMPED UP. Not only did we have an AWESOME HUMP DAY PUMP UP POST, but my brother and his girlfriend FLEW IN FOR A VISIT HOLY SHIT I'M SO PUMPED UP RIGHT NOW AND IT'S NOT EVEN HUMP DAY ANYMORE.


OK, down to business.

It seems there was some confusion over one of my posts from last week. "heat doesn't always rise", is the name of the post in question. I guess some of my readers weren't exactly sure what was going on with the whole black cloud of plague that so forcefully descended upon my half-clothed, tired body.

I managed to put together a few pictures that faithfully represent that fateful night.

Below, we have a side view of me laying in bed, as the cloud-of-shit-in-gas-form attempts to suffocate me. You see the fan forcing a vacuum of ass-emission over me. It's all I can do to stave the stench off. That fan musta been mighty powerful.

Next we have a nice top view, sans the deathcloud. I'm laying there, pushing up for my life as hard as I can. Sweet abs, lats, pecs, ect., bro.

What we're seeing now is a top view with the entire cloud enveloping not only me, but the bed too. God it was horrible. I couldn't breathe. As you can tell from the first pic, the cloud has now gotten considerably more dense. It is here that the cloud is at the point of being oppressive.

Also worth noting: our sheets aren't totally that color. Actually, they're closer to a poopish color, but I had to alter them a bit, so you could really get the brutal vibe from the cloud. The comforter isn't actually orange either, it's a nice deep red; again, I slightly changed the color to differentiate from the other colors in the picture. I hope you can forgive me.

Either way - rest assured, the vivid color scheme of our bedding looks fantastic in our bedroom.

Wednesday, August 12, 2009

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: multiple pumps

I don't know about you, but today is HUMP DAY; and I'm PUMPED UP. When I was a kid, this song used to PUMP ME UP. Whenever I was doing something, and this song would come one, I'd do whatever I was doing that much more furiously.

And roughly 20 years later, I'm still getting pumped up. I was at the gym the other day, feeling a little down. So I hollered at the owner, "EH YO, LEMME GET SUMTHIN THAT'S GONNA GET ME MOVIN, DAWG!".

And without thinking twice, he tossed, from across the gym, one of these:

I chugged that thing so fast that I couldn't even taste it. Within seconds I was all up on the benches doing shit like this:

Man, before long, I had that whole gym pumped up. We were all dancing, lifting weights, grinding, drinking, and partying at the gym. This big ass disco ball magically appeared from out of the ceiling, and yo, it was party central.

Tunes were pumpin'.

Adrenalin was rushin'.

Everybody was PUMPED!

We all knew the party couldn't last forever, and apparently the GODS OF THE PUMP knew that too, so the tunes were appropriately switched to go from INSANELY PUMPED UP to KEEPIN THAT PUMP UP THROUGHOUT THE DAY:



Tuesday, August 11, 2009

facebook ruining marriages?

It's true - I am a glutton for punishment. You hopefully read my post last week about the Real Housewives' shows. Every morning, as part of my pre-actual working ritual, I browse It's horrible.

It really is.

I don't take any of it very seriously, but sometimes I come across a gem, and I usually post something about it here. Today's title of lolworthiness: Facebook vs Spouse: How the Site Can Ruin A Marriage. Keep in mind that the article was written by a relationship counselor.

Anyway, take a minute and let that sink in.

First, if you let a site like facebook ruin your marriage, I'm pretty sure it wasn't meant to be.

What's the worst that can happen on facebook? Your wife lurks other dudes, looking for some dong? Well, if there wasn't facebook, there would be some other way for her to do this.; that 'true' site that always has those hot chicks in those skimpy outfits with their boobies hanging out fuck yea, or (sucks, don't bother, what a waste of time), etc.

Anyway, the article actually suggests 'unfriending' your spouses. While I don't technically have a spouse, I have a girlfriend of like 100 years; and I think it would be funny to see her keep popping up on the 'people you may know' lists. Yeah, motherfucker, I know her.

Check this snippet out:

"Jack, a new patient who has been married for eight years with two young sons, rails against Facebook: “Let’s see, yesterday my wife: Felt bloated, realized she has nothing to wear, posted yet another adorable photo album of our boys dressed as Jedi warriors, was missing Michael Jackson and, oh yeah … DID NOT HAVE SEX WITH ME!”"

I'm not married, but welcome to the married life, dickhead! Lol @ this shitdick crying about his marriage problems to a GODDAMN THERAPIST, instead of having an adult conversation with THE WOMAN HE PLEDGED TO SPEND THE REST OF HIS SHITTY LIFE WITH.

Ruh-roh, facebook jealousy:

"Another patient, Katrina, complains that her husband is constantly tracking her every Facebook move. “He’s always been the jealous type, but now he’s like a stalker. Every new friend is an interrogation.” Out of exasperation, she’s decided to deactivate her account, but feels angry and smothered. “It’s like I’m being monitored by the thought-police!”"

Well, if you hadn't been busted sucking every dude's dick within a 15 mile radius, I'm sure you wouldn't have these problems.

"So go ahead, unfriend your spouse. You might just gain a lover."

Wait, did I just read that? If facebook is causing a rift in your relationship, I'm pretty sure there would have been some other stupid issue just about to boil over.

I should have known the article was gonna be a wash, as I just read part of the author's 'about me':

Ian Kerner is a sex therapist, relationship counselor and New York Times best-selling author of numerous books

The NYT is horrible, and the only thing the emergence of sex therapists and relationship counselors has done, is boost the divorce rate. Ian Kerner, you are a FUCKING RETARD.

Monday, August 10, 2009

weekend wrap-up

I don't even know where to begin, I really don't. All I know is that the moment I pull my car out of the parking lot at work, it's the best feeling ever, every time it happens. Forget love, forget fake tits, forget burritos, forget buffalo wings, forget everything; I love leaving work on Friday evening.

You may know the old story about the guy who kept slamming his head into a wall. He would do this all day, all night, non-stop. When someone finally asked him why he slams his head into the wall all day, he replied, "cause it feels so good when I stop".

There you have it.

Anyway, back to the weekend - Friday, I picked up some sangria, and other assorted tasty treats on the way home. What a great start to the weekend. We were gonna sample on some sangria, and then walk downtown to get some dinner. Well, the assorted tasty treats threw a little wrench into the plans. Heckyeahwoman was good, and lightly grazed the cheese I brought home. Ur boi, on the other hand, didn't exactly "lightly graze". Nah, it was more of a NOM NOM NOM.

I was pretty full lol. Whatever, we waited an hour and went and got some burritos.

We got back, and watched the movie "Taken". Now that's how you make a movie. The good guy kicks everybody's ass. No lame ending, no bullshit, just a movie the way a movie is supposed to be made. And Liam Neeson kicks everybody's ass.

Saturday turned out to be a pretty epic day. In fact, it was so epic, that I thought about including the day's exploits in a future edition of HUMP DAY PUMP UP. Yeah, it was that awesome.

First, I went and bought a bike.


You're goddamn right I did. I'd been shopping around for a while now, and had it narrowed down to two. The owner of the store took me on a ride, so I could check it out, for real. And I liked that shit so much I bought it. Still feeling the high from spending a shitload of money, I furiously rode that thing home. I really wanted to go for a longer ride, but I had another errand to run. Yeah, I had to go to the


I barge into the salon, all squawking, "YO, MAKE ME LOOK LIKE ZAC EFRON, BISH". They weren't amused. It was funny, I had gone on that little bike ride earlier, and got pretty sweaty, so I took a quick shower before I left. We were thinking it would be kind of rude to walk into a fancy salon, all sweaty and stinky. Then lol, the stylist (lol, did I just stay that?), washed my hair again. My hair ended up getting washed like 4 times that day. I don't even think I wash my hands that much.


So yeah, this was my first trip to a fancy salon. And by fancy salon, I mean hair-cutting place that isn't called Great Clips. This spot was fancy as hell, and came highly recommended by some dude I work with - thanks, ******! I ended up paying like $55 plus tip, for a goddamn haircut, and some hair product thing. Lol, when I checked out, the lady tried to wrap the hair product thing all fancy-like.

"Babygurl, I ain't need it all wrapped up".

After she finished cutting my hair all up, she started to style it. It looked like she was about to throw it into a sick fauxhawk; and yo, my heart skipped a beat. Luckily, I felt a huge swell of relief as she kept on going, and didn't put it into a fauxhawk lol. Of course I still didn't like what she did, so the minute I was out the door, I messed it up, and walked home.

With all the fancy bikes and fancy haircuts, I don't even remember the rest of my weekend.

Friday, August 7, 2009

heat doesn't always rise

The other night I was laying in bed, trying to fall asleep. The night was peculiar, particularly because I had a scorching case of gas. I was literally on fire all night; and I had no reason to believe that this would change once I went to bed.

It must have been about 10:46 pm - I was just laying there, lovin' life while the ceiling fan blew a nice breeze all up on me. ALL OF A SUDDEN, I let a massive one rip: a sonic boom.

Even though I was half-asleep, I couldn't help but chuckle to myself, haha. And that's when things started getting crazy.

It descended upon me in silence.

An invisible black cloud of plague.

It was all I could do to resist the suffocating weight of defeat.

You see, most times, a fan will break apart the stench. Spread it throughout the room. In this case, the fan seemed to do the exact opposite. While the heat and moisture of my flatulence would normally just rise up, and out of nose-range, this time it was held down by the oppressive breeze from the fan.

It lingered.

It was almost like a huge supernatural hand, that had just been stuck up a huge supernatural ass, was holding me down.

It was a tangible humidity that hovered above my half-asleep body. So surreal. I could no longer feel the breeze of the fan, as the gaseous stench acted as a shield. A shield I'd rather not have.

I feel like if I had gotten up, I would have hit my head on this putrid stench. Yeah, it was that strong.

And just as fast as it almost crushed me, it disappeared. I could almost feel the weight lift off of my entire body.

The sense of relief I felt at that very moment was immeasurable.

Have the best weekend ever!

Thursday, August 6, 2009

get euthanized

I'm pretty pissed off right now. Actually, I've been pretty pissed off. It seems that over the past maybe 6-9 months, heckyeahwoman has started watching the different "Real Housewives of" series. To my knowledge, there are three (3) of them: OC, New Jersey, and Atlanta. We seem to have been watching them in that order.

It all started when we would eat dinner, she'd flip on the TV, and somehow the OC series would magically appear on the boob tube. More like the fake boob tube lol. It was horrible (the fake boobs weren't horrible - they were awesome), but eventually I warmed up...because not only were most of the housewives hot as hell, but their daughters were hot too. I ain't mad at hot chicks. But still, these boxes were dumb as rocks. Arguing over the most petty shit, and just being stupid twats.

Like, who lives like that? All they do is sit around, be hot, go to the pool, shop, and argue. To be fair, at least a couple of them are somewhat classy, and didn't embarrass themselves on national television. They live privileged lives, and didn't do anything to earn it.

My analysis: these animals should be caged for at least part of the day.

In a month or two, it seemed like the New Jersey episodes were on more. Bravo got sneaky this time, and snuck a fatty into the mix. The chicks aren't as hot, but some of the daughters still are! Still the same petty arguing, and a little bit more talk about 'being real', and other similar bullshit. The daughters seem to be a bit more spoiled, and overall, need death.

Their lives seem to be a little bit more worthless than the skanks from the OC. They do most of the same stuff the OC chicks do, but add in a little more poor parenting, and sprinkle in some more uselessness.

My analysis: these animals belong in a zoo.

And yet, in another couple months, the "Real Housewives of New Jersey" starts getting replaced with nightly viewings of "Real Housewives of Atlanta". Holy shit, what I thought couldn't get any worse, did. The nonstop crying about being 'real' takes human worthlessness to entirely new levels. Lol @ calling someone a 'fake-ass bitch'...and being 100% serious about it. Like somebody somehow is some sort of human imposter.

I love when one of them will say something about how classy they are, like, "I'm classy, bitch!" Actually, if you have to tell somebody that you're classy, you're probably not classy.

Most of the broads are married to professional sports stars. One lady is rich because she divorced some football player, lol. Get this - she's starting her own clothing line; but, uh...she can't sew. She just draws sketches of what she wants the clothes to look like, then she has someone else design them. Holy lol. Hey, I don't really write these blogs, I just pay somebody to "come up with something awesome every day". And they're all pulling crap like that.

These absolutely horrible animals take all the shittiness of the broads from both previous "Real Housewives" shows, and toss in liberal amounts of gold digging, about as much petty bullshit as possible, and just general nonstop crying about something.

My analysis: these animals need to be put down asap

Bravo, please take this shit off the airwaves. This is what's wrong with Amurrrica.

Wednesday, August 5, 2009

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: all moved in

OK, so we got all moved in a week and a half ago. We finally finished all the cleaning at the old place about a week ago. AND THAT BY ITSELF IS ENOUGH TO PUMP ME UP. But I know that probably won't pump up the rest of you, so read on.

Walking into that empty place, for what would turn out to be two (2) brutal nights worth of hard cleaning, did NOT PUMP ME UP at all. The place was filthy. When looking at the old, dirty ass carpet, we couldn't help but rofl. Everything that could possibly go wrong with carpet, did go wrong: stains, shit everywhere, being all torn up, etc.

I knew what had to be done.

There was only one place I could turn.

One place I knew I could count on.

One place where you know what you're gonna get.

One place I can trust.

One place I can go to for all my HUMP DAY PUMP UP needs.

You bet, I fired up my blog in that empty old apartment, and got PUMPED THE FUCK UP.


Don't be fooled by the title; they do care. Oh yes, the do. And they care about one thing, and one thing only.

And that thing is GETTING PUMPED UP.

Oh, you don't believe me?


Like I said before, Obituary cares about GETTING PUMPED UP. Why do you think they wrote these songs?

To make some sociopolitical statement? FUCK NO

To make classic 90's death metal? NO WAY, JOSE


So anyway, back to our cleaning adventures...I totally forgot to take pictures of the empty old place, cause that woulda made for a great post. I gotta admit, we did get the bathrooms pretty spotless though. And by we, I mean I.

Here's the plan for today: We're gonna pretend the rest of the week is nothin' but a little stain in ur terlet. Go ahead, crank up that Obituary, crank one out, GET PUMPED UP, and SCRUB THE SHIT OUTTA THAT PESKY LITTLE STAIN. Go ahead, make your mom proud.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

the continuation

Sooooooo, continuing where we left off from yesterday, I said a bunch of stuff about getting fired; and I began detailing my interaction with Mr. Asshole.

So there we were, just 2 men, in the bathroom, at the same time. No biggie.

Though, this asshole qualifying as a man is quite debatable.

I step up to the urinal after we exchanged our pleasantries, and he was washing his hands. This impressed me quite a bit. Usually you don't see guys like this washing their hands. I had him pegged as the kind of guy to hit the bathroom, not wash his hands, and immediately go searching for the first person to shake hands with.

What a dick.

So he's on his way out, and he opens the door to leave, but out of nowhere he decides to start a conversation with me.

I'm peeing in the goddamn urinal, the last thing I want to do is talk to some dickless fartsniffer about whatever the hell he was talking to me about. Oh, and the FUCKING BATHROOM DOOR IS WIDE OPEN.

Do you know why there are DOORS on the entrance to the bathroom?

I would guess, so that you can close them.

I'm not even shitting you when I tell you that I saw one person walk by, when this door was wide open. He's just standing there talking.

Finally, he decides to shut up and leave. GODDAMN FINALLY.

The only thing is, when decided to leave, he left the bathroom door still WIDE OPEN. I was still standing there peeing. Through the doorway, my weiner was partially visible for at least 20 seconds. holy lol.

I finish up, WASH MY HANDS, and walk back to my office thinking, "jesus, what a fucking dick".

I can't believe I stretched this out for like 2 posts. Holy shit I love my job.

Monday, August 3, 2009

nah it's cool, you can leave the door wide open

You know how when you're at work, especially in a (very) semi professional environment, you kind of take everything that you do, and do it more conservatively?

Example: When you're home, you drink like a fish, and curse like a sailor; but at work, you tone it down. No drinking, and only light cursing.

At home, you may be farting like a motherfucker; but at the office, you kind of just keep it to yourself.

Well, we have an employee who apparently doesn't make that distinction - from home life, to work life.

Heading into the men's room for what I thought would be a run of the mill urination, I had no idea that what would happen, would blow MY FUCKING MIND.

No biggie, I just creep into the the bathroom, and encounter - let's just call him 'the asshole'. This son of a bitch is just an asshole. An illiterate, deaf, fucking asshole.

FYI - I'm not gonna name names, and I'm not gonna allude to who this asshole know, that whole 'people at work read my blog, and I'm not too sure just who, but I don't want to get fired over something as asinine as a blue comment on my own PERSONAL BLOG'. Yeah, that thing.

Actually, you know what? Fuck you, if you're reading my blog, and you want to fire me over it, be my guest.

It would probably only be a matter of time until I got fired for something equally as stupid, anyway.

So whatever.

Not gonna lie, I do like my job, and I work with some really awesome people. ******, *****, ***, and *******, alla y'all are awesome. Couple more shout-outs to *****, *****, ******, the entire ******** department, and of course, ******. My boss, *******, is awesome; she works way too hard, and is way too good at her job. I'm gonna keep the posi going, cause I got some great news last week: as of recently, our company is down ONE HUGE FUCKING WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT. Happy trails, you fucking loser! Best of luck.

OMG, holy crap I got sidetracked...where were we?

Oh yeah, so I had just entered the bathroom, and found Mr. Asshole just washing his hands. From the look (and scent) of things, it had been a reeeeeaaaallll doozy.

I greet him with my generic, "what's crappenin'". Obviously not catching it, he greets me with the, "hi, how are you doing". Motherfucker didn't even have enough respect to throw a question mark on the end. Just a little inflection would have been nice, dick. lol nice dick.

And this is when it gets weird...