Monday, May 31, 2010

keepin it real w/ the inlaws

Short little story here, but let me tell you, I kept it real. Really awesome.

Heckyeahwoman's parents were in town for her graduation two weeks ago. It was great, they're a lot of fun, and we all had an awesome time.

Anyway, on the way to dinner one night, Heckyeahwoman was riding shotgun, with her 'rents in the back, and we're slowing down. What the hell, that asshole up there is trying to sneak in, and pull out in front of me.

Hell naw, dawg, I'm gassing this bitch, and not letting him in. It was a limo. A limo just trying to force its way into the traffic flow. Naturally, the minute I gas it a bit, Heckyeahwoman let's her inner-backseat-driver out, and yells at me to let him in.

That's when things got awesome:

In a stern, forceful voice, I told her, "Heckyeahwoman, don't tell me what to do. I'm driving."

Immediately after I said that, silence. SILENCE. No chit-chatting coming from the back seat, nothing. It seemed like the radio even muted itself.

I don't even remember if I let the guy in or not, I was too caught up in the awesome.

Friday, May 28, 2010

friday prayer

Dear Father above who art in Heaven,

It's been a while; I'm sorry. I don't really have any excuses for not talking to you for so long, other than the fact that I'm pretty sure you don't exist.

Anyway, I just have one quick request. Can you smite this clan of vacuous shit-tasters?


















Just in case you were wondering, God, this is what no redeeming social value is. Haha of course you're not wondering. You don't wonder about anything - you're having a hard enough time just trying to exist.

Anyway, thanks for the consideration.

Best,

heck yeah, man [dot] blogspot [dot] com

Thursday, May 27, 2010

the meltdown and the feud

This must have happened like 3 or 4 weeks ago. An innocent morning it was, just driving to work, seething with subdued cubicle* driven rage. Yeah, no biggie.

There comes a point when the 2 lane road merges into 1 lane. To clarify, the right lane ends, so errbody gots ta merge into the left lane. It's marked well in advance - there should be no confusion, no lane merging surprises. My guess would be that the bulk of the people that drive it, drive it every morning on their way to work.

So there I am, just chillin' in the left lane, following the car ahead of me, when this Saturn Vue comes creepin' up on my right. Like 200 feet left to merge. AND SHE'S SPEEDING UP. Never mind that there are a bunch of cars ahead of me, and like NO CARS BEHIND ME. Did she think she was going to blow by me and try to merge? With a bunch of other assholes up ahead?

She could have easily slowed down, and merged over behind me, but no, this SLUT is gonna try to merge in between me and the minivan ahead of me. I speed up to not let her in, as the lane is about to end. NOW THIS BITCH IS DRIVING ON THE SHOULDER. OF THE FUCKING ROAD.

It's like time stood still for the final 20 feet of her honking, and yelling at me, and me not letting her in. Finally in a moment of weakness, I relented...and let her in. Jesus Christ, she came about as close to hitting me as I've ever experienced in my life. What a psycho. I mean, I had my horn blaring the entire time, I was giving her the finger through my moonroof; this worthless cockpit knew I was there.

Peering into both her un-tinted windows, and rearview mirror, I see the violently shaking silhouette of a maniac. This bitch is having a full on meltdown/seizure/spazz attack. She's waving her hands; I can see her head freaking out, holy shit. She had her horn going, and I could practically hear her yelling over the horn, and both my radio and the growl of my V18 monster car engine.

Finally I give her a slow 'n deliberate finger-across-the-throat motion, and she chills the fuck out. But goddamn, shawtie was having a conniption.

Totally been seeing her almost every day now. She must work in the morning too. I was actually right next to her at the stoplight, and she looked like she might be hot. If you like psychotic hot chicks that think the world revolves around them.

Last time I saw her, I even waved. That went unacknowledged lol.



*I didn't work in a cubicle, pussies, I had huge, sweet corner office, with 2 huge, wall-size windows fuck yeah I'm a baller.

Wednesday, May 26, 2010

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: DIVERSITY

Actually, diversity is a crock of shit, but that doesn't mean we can't APREESH these multi-cultural joints right here. Oh, you're not going to watch the videos? Is it because the band is diverse? Do you hate Hispanics? Oh you do? That ain't cool.

Chill out, watch the videos, have a taco, get PUMPED UP, embrace other cultures, and diversify that PUMP, dawg.

First little ditty we have here is entitled, "Empower". Clearly this is a reference to empowering your INNER-PUMP.





HOLY SHIT THIS SONG PUMPS ME UP SO MUCH. IF THIS PUMP CONTINUES, I'M GONNA EAT A BURRITO.

This song is called "Against the Spirits", but you know homeboy ain't really against spirits like wine, whiskey, vodka, gin, beer, and other awesome dranks. Nah, he's against ghosts and shit. Dudebro stakin' a stand against the spirits. Preach it, pussybeats.






Sweet pushpit, you pussies.

Looks like the PUMP UP worked, cause here's A BURRITO!




















This song is called "Pocket Full of Fat Caps". What a "fat cap" is, I'm not sure, but I think it has something to do with graffiti.






Better quality, HUMPY PUMPY FERK YEAH.

Dude's yellin' about fatcaps, and crap, I'll probably still be sleepin' when this got posted. It's funny, I could have shortened this HDPU to just one sentence: "Today is my first HDPU as an unemployed bum".

Check out tomorrow as tell you about the time I started feud with some crazy driver.

Monday, May 24, 2010

concerts suck

I just had a mini-revelation: concerts suck.

My friend just posted his long ass list of summer concerts, and after being almost in amazement at how many shows he's going to, I immediately felt sorry for him. No, not because of the complete and utter shittiness of each of those shitty bands he's going to have to suffer through, but because he's going to con himself into believing that he had a good time.

Yeah he'll probably get loaded, see some titties, hang out with friends, make bad decisions, and laugh a shitload...but that's just an illusion. No fun was actually had.

OK, fun was actually had when he and a friend both shit in the port-o-potty at the same time.

Now don't take this the wrong way, but for somebody with such a great taste in music, he's got a horrible taste in music. Not only that, but he's the foremost authority on pudding baths; and he's also an all around great guy. So great that I told him to stand up in my wedding. In fact, I don't think I've ever met anybody who doesn't like the kid. Besides me.

But enough sucking his dick (haha not really) - we've got meatier things to cover here.

Having listed a range of concerts, from intimate club shows to huge festivals, he'll be seeing music at a variety of different venues.

The only thing I'm thinking is "HEADACHE".

COST - From high ticket prices to ridiculously expensive drinks, to getting busted trying to smuggle your own booze & drugs in, it's a goddamn ripoff. I checked ticket prices for an upcoming Maroon 5 concert, which is infinitely better than any show that anybody will be attending this summer/ever, and they were $138 each. I can only imagine how much the beer costs. Parking? Shit ain't free either, dawg.

Don't even get me started on concert and or festival food. No, not Festival Foods, the grocery chain, but festival food, the tasty/shitty/overpriced noms you eat at festivals, bruh. You ever had an $8 hot dog? No? Oh, you're not missing much, other than serious anger management issues.

GETTING THERE - Some say that it's the journey, and not the destination that's important. Whether you're driving just downtown, only to drive back home loaded after the show, or you're making a road trip out of it, chances are, I'm gonna be pissed off about something. Maybe it's arguing with my friends about who's gotta drunk drive home. Maybe it's your asshole friends driving you FUCKING NUTS on the road trip. Either way, I'm getting FUCKING ANGRY just thinking about it.

ENVIRONMENT - People. Always so many goddamn people. I hate people. I hate crowds. I hate fun. I hate everything. Bumping into every asshole ever on your way to the bar, and then bumping into every asshole ever again, only with a full drink. My hands got sticky as I typed that. Oh yeah, it's gonna be hot as fuck - I hope you brought deodorant. That, or anti-sweaty-douchebag repellent.

With all those people, you know there's gonna be lines. Lines to get a drink, lines to get in, lines to use the turlet, lines to get in line, lines to snort, holy SHIT. Do you know what you do in lines? You stand there waiting. Do you know what you generally do at every concert you go to? You stand there. Do you like standing? Cause I sure as shit don't.

And you can deny this all you want, but the bands sound like shit. The club has horrible acoustics, the outdoor festival's sound is drowned out by the massive crowd, and your ears are shot from going to shitty shows for the last 15 years. You lose.

SHITTING AT SHOWS - Last thing, shitting at a show, club, festival, etc. Worst idea ever.

TRUTH - I could listen to the record in my apartment with the AC blasting, the lights off, in my own sweet chair. I can mosh in my living room with heckyeahwoman and our ferrets.

I can make a sweet mix cd, put it on, only travel all the way from the computer in my living room to my porch (about 6 feet), listen to a bunch of bands, drink cheap beer, not wait in line for anything, not have to hang out with any of my friends, be outside on the porch, fire up the grill, pause the music, go take a shit, take a shower, come back, and not miss a note of my favorite songs.

Concerts, this FUCK YOU is for you.

Friday, May 21, 2010

last day of work

Holy shit. Just a couple thoughts on my last day of work.

I've looked forward to this day since the day I started. OK, that's not entirely true. But the truth is, it's sort of bittersweet. I am lucky to have had this job, and I work with some great people. While sales was never a long term career goal, I love being awesome, I love crushing my coworkers in our sales goals. I also love making a shitload of money. Unfortunately, that will probably never happen again. But whatever, I am going to miss this place.

On a lighter note, I am never going to have to make a sales call again. Very few things are as degrading as cold calling. I guess having a mentally disabled dude smear his own shit all over your face would be pretty degrading though. Maybe smearing your own shit all over your own face would be pretty ridiculous too.

Come Monday, I'll get to sleep in, go on vacation, and just chill out. And probably nurse a brutal hangover from the Lost season finale on Sunday night.

It's funny, upon telling a couple people of my final day of work, they asked what I was going to do. Like I was going out guns ablazin', in a fiery blaze of glory. What kind of a lunatic do you think I am?! I'd like to think it would be fun to just freak out; but honestly, I'm just gonna work quietly until 5, pack up my crap, and head out. Then head to happy hour and get loaded.

I recently learned that somebody has been pilfering beverages from the cooler/refrigerator that is owned by the cafe/lunch restaurant in our building. Like, who would do that? I have seen one of our employees stealing tea from the cafe. No kidding, this bastard was stealing green tea packets. Multiple people have seen it. He now works from home, and has been ruled out as a suspect in the beverage stealing caper. I probably won't be there when the shit goes down - which sucks, cause I'd like to see that asshole get the chair.

It wouldn't be right to not end this with the following subject matter: I reserve the right to violently shit out the half digested pizza buffet I plan on having for lunch. This is my last chance to blast the shit out of that goddamn toilet. That same goddamn bathroom where that same son of a bitch never flushes the urinal. I was half tempted to put on a pair of rubber gloves, grab that wayward pube that always seems to sit at the lip of the urinal, get it DNA tested, and track down the filthy animal who it belongs to.

And this is totally unrelated to my last day at work, but sometimes I feel like I'm the only goddamn person in this world that has any goddamn common sense.

Monday, May 17, 2010

lets just give you chemotherapy

So like, I've been having an issue with my car. It's been going on for about a year now: whenever I get it up to like 65 mph, the steering wheel starts violently shaking. Actually the entire car shakes. At first I thought it was because I drive like an asshole, that the shaking was just a side effect. Surprisingly not the case. Finally realizing there's probably something wrong with the car, I decided that it's going to get fixed this (now last) week.

Since the Dodge dealership in town is full of WORTHLESS FUCKING ASSHOLES FUCK YOU LEN YOU COCKSUCKER, I thought I'd give Heckyeahwoman's beloved Honda dealership a try. Calling them up, I told the service dude that I need an oil change, and then I proceeded to explain to him the problem, telling him that once I get to 65ish mph, the steering wheel shakes.

"You'll be able to take the car out to check it out, right; you'll get it to like 65 or 70, right?" I asked, wary of previous bad experiences with car dealerships.

"Oh yeah yeah, it probably just needs a wheel balance, but we'll check it out", he answered.

Sweet, so I made an appointment. Even better, Heckyeahwoman was nice enough to let me take her car to work one day, while she brought mine in.

So a little after 2 hours from when the appointment started, HYW emails me to let me know that the car is back, and they did the oil change, balanced the wheels, and fixed the alignment.

Awesome, "did they take it on the highway to make sure that it was fixed?", I axed her.

"No, they can only test it out up to 50 miles per hour at the facility, and they said the highway was too far", she answered.

Needing clarification, I asked, "Oh, so they didn't test it to see if it got fixed?"

"I don't know, they said it probably just needed a wheel balance, so they did that, fixed the alignment, changed your oil, and they said the the highway was too far", she snapped back.

Knowing that the interstate is pretty far, but assuming the dealership is in the same location it's always been - close to a different highway, "oh, so they moved then, they're not on the corner of 39th & Main anymore, like a mile from Highway 301?"

She proceeded to get angry at my superior investigative skills.

But wait, that's not important, did you catch that?

They didn't even properly diagnose the problem; they guessed. And then they didn't even double check to see if they're guess was right.

Let's put that in a different context.

What if you walked into the doctor's office, hunched over with stomach pains, and the doctor says, "it's probably stomach cancer, let's give you chemotherapy"? And then gives you a brutal chemo session in your belly, looks at you, and declares you cured.

My head hurts, I have a headache. Do I need brain surgery? After deducing that you have throbbing towards the back of your head, he jams a scalpel straight into your cerebellum, and sends you on your way.

I stubbed my toe, and it's sore. We're amputatin'! OK, this isn't a good example, cause if a doctor saw my gnarled-ass toes he'd probably figure it was a some fast spreading degenerative disease, and rightfully amputate lol.

But like what the FUCK? I can't believe that this is acceptable. You can't just look at a problem, not do any testing, and say, "most of the time when x happens, y is the cause". I mean you can, but then you can't just blindly perform y, without any follow up. And then you better make GODDAMN SURE that y worked. I'm not a scientist, but a shitload of my friends are, and I'm sure they'd agree. That, or they'd have a facebook meltdown about it.

These dickheads at the Honda Dealership are giving the shiteaters at Gainesville Dodge a run for their money in overall worthlessness.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

the answer, the art

In this post last week, I announced that I thought I had 3 balls - when I was a kid. And maybe still now. I don't know.

After typing it up, letting it chill for over a week, and reading and rereading the post, one thing kept coming up in my head: closure. I need closure.

As therapeutic as writing may be, as cathartic as this blogging experience is, there's truly only one way to bring real closure to this situation.

Art.

It's been said that a picture is worth a thousand words; and I couldn't agree more. Go ahead, click on it, make it bigger, take it all in.
















Yes, that's a hand drawn picture of a 3-ball nutsack.

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: P.U.M.P.

Lettuce employ a different method of "bringing the PUMP" today. Because there are about 3 people who actually watch the videos, we're gonna make this PUMP a little more commercially accessible. I wouldn't totally call this an exercise in acronyms, but then again, I totally wouldn't not call it an exercise in acronyms either.

What I would call it for sure, is a great, creative way to PUMP you UP. See if you can follow me here:

Preparing delicious buffalo wings
Understanding how to prepare delicious buffalo wings
Making delicious buffalo wings
Purchasing delicious buffalo wings from Wing Zone, because the ones you had in the oven got burnt to a goddamn crisp

Perfect titties
Unfathomably awesome titties
Massive titties
Phake ass titties

Petty crime
U don't know shit
Masturbatory as an adjective
Pbeef jerky

Please flush the FUCKING
Urinal,
Motherfucker
PREESH, brah

Peeking down your shirt when you look away
Undressing you with my eyes
Making boner time
Pants tighten

PUSSIES, GET PUMPED UP
U GON FEEL THIS PUMP RIGHT HERE
MAN, I CAN'T GET ANY MORE PUMPED UP THAN THIS
PECAUSE IT'S HUMP DAY, JUST HUMPIN' AWAY


What is your P.U.M.P.?

Monday, May 10, 2010

speaking of ugly babies

Remember my post from Friday? No? Well scroll down, fagmo.

We covered the topic of ugly babies. Kind of a bummer, right? OK then, let's talk about cute babies today! I think the only non-food-related thing that people like more than cute babies - are cute kitties. Maybe cute puppies too. Yeah, definitely cute puppies.

To be a bit more specific, let's talk about friends that have cute babies.

A couple of my male friends have recently had baby boiz. Holler @ ur boi. Not just that, but in the last 2 or 3 years, it seems like my friends have only had sons. Out of probably 10 babies in that time span, the first daughter I've seen was blasted forth into the world just a couple weeks ago.

But OK great, so my friends are now the proud new owners of healthy baby boys.

That's wonderful. But at some point it's gonna be not so wonderful.

The obvious question is: at what point do they cease to be cute, and start to look too much like their fathers, to be called cute? I'm sure that as parents they love to hear how cute, handsome, adorable, etc. their new spawn is. However, there's going to come a time when instead of cooing over the little guy, you're going to be noting, "oh wow, little guy looks just like his daddy". And I don't think baby-daddy is cute. Great guy, good friend? Yeah. Cute? Nah dude.

It's like, I wonder if the dads ever wonder, "does he think I'm cute too?"

Would I say to my tall Tampa-based, full grown, adult friend, "oh hey nice haircut, looks really cute"?

NO

Would I compliment his new basketball shorts, "those shorts new? your ass looks really cute in them"?

JESUS CHRIST NO

I gotta think that, at some point, whether browsing pictures of the little guy, or him having just done something funny while you're over at their place - saying something like, "awww your son is so cute", has got to get awkward.

Could you imagine just hanging out with your buddy and his 10 year old son, watching the game, having a couple brewz, saying, "heh heh, your son is adorable"? Could you imagine that?

"My son looks just like me; you think I'm adorable too?", he yells.

"No No, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it", you timidly reply.

"So you think my son is ugly? YOU THINK MY SON IS FUCKING UGLY?", he bellows from the bathroom, door open.

Think about the implications in the case of a daughter: "your daughter is so pretty"/"YOU WANT TO FUCK MY DAUGHTER YOU SON OF A BITCH? I'M GOING TO FUCKING KILL YOU". Yeah, think about that.

Obviously, in 15 years, you're not going to refer to your friend's full grown teenage boy as cute. In my tall friend from Tampa's case, maybe something like, "your son has really matured into a handsome, cross-dressing maniac". Who really knows though, it's so hard to predict the future.

Where do you draw the line?

Friday, May 7, 2010

ugly baby, haha

Sandra Bullock isn't doing so well lately. She found out, PUBLICLY, that her husband had an affair. Then that happened like 4 more times. PUBLICLY.

That sucks.

Then she had a baby. And that sucks too.

OK, she didn't really have a baby, as much as she adopted one.

But that still sucks.

Adopted/birthed from Sandra's Keanu Reeves blasted p00n, whatever, either way the baby is ugly as shit.























And what's fucked is that she picked out this baby.

She went to the baby market, and after browsing all the little shits, she pointed to the ugliest one, and said, "I want that ugly brown one, right there. Yeah that one with the jaundiced hue to it."

God that sucks. She picked out an ugly baby. I am just coming to grips with this. What on earth would possess you to do that?

I don't know, maybe her eyes don't work: "He's just perfect, I can't even describe him any other way," Bullock said, describing it.

Some people have ugly babies, obviously against their will. People get married, and hump like rabbits, with the hopes of creating a beautiful baby. Then sometimes they get saddled with the weight of having an abomination reborn. And then Sandra goes and mocks all those unlucky parents by CHOOSING an UGLY baby. Oh hey, I'm one of the most beautiful women in the world, and I could have procreated with my moderately handsome (former) husband. But I didn't. I chose to adopt an unfortunate looking mutant baby.

Not even all her wealth is going to make that little shit handsome. OK, maybe it will, but goddamn, that little thing has to face itself in the mirror every night. He look like da bogeyman, yo.

And what's worse? Its name is Louis. Yeah, Louis. Wonderful, way to adopt a gay baby.

I didn't invent anything as despicable as racism*, homophobia*, or anti-semitism*, nor their unsavory consequences; but I'm also not going to give this baby its third strike by raising it to be Jewish.

Sandra, you brought this on yourself.




*actually i think i did

Thursday, May 6, 2010

crash diet update #1

Did you read yesterday's HUMP DAY PUMP UP?

If not, scroll down. Go ahead, we'll wait for you.

Every morning I post about it, and link it up, on facebook; and today some jealous twink decided to have a meltdown about it.

Click the picture, and witness the insanity.














But anyway, back to the real update: not a lot has changed. I got home from work ready to totally bail on working out, as I was pretty sore from yesterday. Unfortunately, Heckyeahwoman had just wrapped up one of the videos, and was waiting for me to get home to start the other one.

Being that my upper body was beat, I just did the lower body video, and wtf, that was a lot of jumping lol. Especially for living on the second floor of an apartment complex.

For dinner, we each get like 4 ounces (lol) of chicken breast, and some steamed broccoli. My evening snack will be a cup of decaffeinated tea. Pretty soon I'll be bobbing for turds in the cat's litterbox.

After the first day, all I felt is hunger. Seriously, I make too much money to even think about being hungry.

Wednesday, May 5, 2010

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: CODE RED

First things first: I had a post scheduled for Monday, but since I was on vacation, I didn't check to see if it got posted; and honestly, I was too loaded to even think about using a computer. This does not include the time I drunkenly stepped on Heckyeahwoman's laptop on Saturday night (possibly more about that later).

So a huge PUMP goes out to being on vacation, being loaded, getting tan on the beach, and being loaded on the beach. Huge UNPUMP goes out to MY GODDAMN FUCKING BLOG NOT GODDAMN POSTING FUCK.

Also, I was totally going to type something up for Tuesday, but again, due to being on vacation/loaded, I didn't even think about touching a computer. Heh, sorry man.

Whatever, today is HUMP DAY, don't cry over spilled milk/missed PUMPS.

Most of you know that I enjoy exercising, and I get PUMPED UP whenever people I know get a little exercise.

You can imagine my unchagrin as I unfurl this story of getting PUMPED, getting exercise, crash dieting, and important family decisions being made without the input of all members of said family, in the shadow of impending nuptials. What? Just read, you fucking toads.

GD, this must have been a week and a half ago when I got home from the gym - brought my gym bag into the spare bedroom, and what the FUCK is this thing:




















An exercise ball? Sitting randomly in our apartment? I don't know! But I like it!

Is this Heckyeahwoman's idea of purchasing new furniture? Are we finally getting rid of that goddamn love seat? I can't even remember the last time it was used for lovin'. Wait, yeah I can. It was awesome.

Naturally, she sees my excitement, and let's me know she purchased this, from woot:




















PUMP YEAH, Heckyeahwoman actually bought that shit from woot! It's just an exercise program on a couple different DVDs, and of course the accompanying equipment. Little did I know that she'd been doing it for a couple days now! HOLY SHIT AWESOME!

I got so PUMPED UP that my first instinct was to go back to the gym and hit it furiously. But then she reminded me that SHE BROUGHT THE GYM HOME. Heck yeah, we busted out the ball, and the cords n shit, and did a little impromptu jam/exercise sesh. Cr00sh, bruh.

BUT THAT'S NOT THE BEST PART.

THIS IS THE BEST PART:















What you're looking at is the BONUS (read: BONER) DVD, Hollywood CODE RED. It's a "6 day rapid-fire weight loss" program. It's got a meal plan and a workout video, to get you PUMPED. Actually, to get you the opposite of PUMPED - SHRUNK UP. But still, PUMPED. Anyway, it's just a crash diet thing, with a complementary workout deal thing.

Funny thing is, as we were browsing the meal plan, I didn't see anything that said, "beer", "whiskey", "titties in my face", "5-star", or "burritos". That sucks dude, it must not take weekends (Wednesday night - Monday) into consideration.

Whatever, we're starting today - to kick off HUMP DAY PUMP UP properly. Think about this, gluttons: while you're getting PUMPED UP and not crash dieting, We're gonna be getting PUMPED UP, and crashing the shit outta our diets.

Don't worry, I will be documenting this 6 day journey, and posting about it here. Please keep our collective PUMPS in your prayers, pussybeats.