Monday, February 28, 2011

rooney rule

This post got lost in them mix, and I just found this hidden in the unfinished archives from like a year ago.

The NFL's Rooney Rule says that you must interview a minority for leadership positions - like head coach or executive stuff. The goal was to increase the number of African American coaches across the league.

It's shit like this that made me try to draft an all-white fantasy football team a couple years ago. You ever see anybody draft a kicker in the fourth round? It started out fine - I drafted a QB first, then a couple receivers and a tight end. But when your number one receiver is Donny Avery, that's a problem. Then I realized I needed a couple RBs. Matt Forte is close, but not close enough lol.

But seriously, a team is looking to fill a position, and has to schedule one token interview. Who actually wants that insult/interview? I can only imagine getting that call to schedule an interview from whatever team, and knowing it was just a formality. That's almost worse than being passed over because of your race. Almost worse than Rodger Goodell whipping out his weiner and slapping you across the face with it.

Lol @ being forced to patronize people. Like, if I'm going to patronize somebody, it's not gonna be black people. Nah, I'm all about mocking, patronizing and tormenting the elderly.

Truth is, I'm widely known as a racist to many. But this is insane.

The funny thing is that people keep saying that race doesn't matter; it doesn't matter what color your skin is. Apparently it does.

Now if somebody made a rule that the NBA had to have a higher number of white players, or whatever, people would be freaking out.

Freaking the fo out, man. But fuck the NBA anyway.

I'm pretty sure NFL teams don't give a crap what color some dude's skin is; the owner just wants a coach to put the team in position to win/fill seats, and players to turn opposing teams' brains to mush. Worse, how many women head coaches are there in the NFL? Homosexual? The takeaway here: misogyny and homophobia are cool only if you're discriminating against white men and/or patronizing hardworking African American men.

Let's look at a real life example here - me.

At my last job, when I was involved in the interviewing process, three (3) of the four (4) people hired were what most would call minorities. Somehow they got hired based on their merits and potential to succeed, rather than the color of their skin haha omg.

It's funny, I just read the wikipedia page, and some legal scholars are looking to extend the Rooney Rule outside of just the NFL, to college football. The phrase "legal scholar" might be a misnomer here. I always thought that discrimination is generally illegal, and that racism is bad. But wikipedia, eh.

As a racist joke connoisseur, and because this rule is obviously racist, I'd like to send a big burning cross out to Dan Rooney and the rest of the Rooney family for their contributions to continuing racism well into the twenty first century.

Congratulations you dumb fucks.

Go Packers!

Friday, February 25, 2011

spring is almost here!

Spring is almost here! I can almost smell it!

Well it was, until we like a foot of snow dumped on us over the last week or so. Bummer. But there was a week there where it got into the 40's, and high 30's.

I don't know, I really enjoyed the winter. And the feeling of spring, after a long, hard winter/wiener, man there's nothin' like it. Those first couple days of spring put me in such a good mood that one time, like 5 years ago I got so drunk that I peed all over my brother's refrigerator. Good times!

But yeah, anybody who has experienced snow before knows what to expect: a couple months of winter, a few warm-weather teases coupled with a fake thaw, a final dumping of snow & some more cold, and then finally spring starts. Amazingly it happens this way EVERY year. No exceptions.

So in our warm-weather tease a couple weeks ago, the snow was a-meltin' like crazy. Everything was wet - roads, sidewalks, parking lots - there were puddles everywhere, and slush was no stranger.

How sweet it was to be driving down the highway, with the asshole in front of me driving with half his passenger side on the shoulder - you know, where most of the melted snow is. Normally I wouldn't care if some dipshit is driving like a...dipshit, but it was splashing all over my windshield.

Like he was doing it on purpose.

And that's shitty enough, but even worse, I bet that dickhead knew that my windshield wiper sprayer thing wasn't working. Dirty brown melted snow-water all over my windshield, and wiping it only makes it worse, not totally clearing the dirt and grime away.

My windshield was essentially a smeared mess of dirty water.

What a dick.

Happened that I was running errands that day, and this jerk was ultimately heading to the same place I was, though I didn't know it at the time. Awesome. So I followed his ass, tailgated him, stalked him.

When he stopped to get gas, I pulled into the side of the gas station, rolled my window down, kinda leaned back in my seat like I was watching him (I was), and tried to make myself look kinda suspicious. He definitely noticed. When he was done, I pulled my car around, and followed him to his next stop...

The Wal-Mart.

Saturday morning, so you know Wal-Mart is gonna be packed, and with every car in Soufeastern Michigan jockeying for a fucking parking space, it was hard as hell stay on this dudes ass as he navigated the lot. But I did. Finally he found a spot so I blew past him, whipped my sick ride around, and as he walked to the store, I crept behind him, creepily leering at that bastard like he was a 16 year old hottie in a bikini.

Mean muggin'.

Dude was freaked the fo out, and that little excursion added at least 45 minutes to my errand-running that day.

But yo, it was so worth it.

But what if he had been some crazy hillbilly, and freaked out on me?

What? That why I STAY STRAPPED DON'T MAKE ME BUCK THIS HEAT.

In unrelated news, I've noticed a rash of unfriendings on facebook, like three. If you are one of those people, or you know who perpetrated this heinous unpleasantry, please forward the appropriate contact info to me.

I remember one time I posted a hilarious video on facebook, and some douchebag defriended me lol. I can feel still feel his rage as he hovered his mouse over the "unfriend" button, finally clicking with the adolescent anger of a hundred impotent girlie-men, as he himself is enveloped by the feeling of helplessness that would cause only the saddest of souls to have a meltdown over something so awesome.

Haha what a goof.

Wednesday, February 23, 2011

HDPU: THE EXPENDABLES




Heckyeahwoman was out of town a week or two ago, so on Friday night, I did what any dude with a huge wiener, two gigantic brass balls, sick jeans, and a massive DOUBLE BARREL SHOTGUN would do - I rented THE EXPENDABLES. I got drunk and watched it while holding a loaded gun in each hand!

Friday night by like ten, movie was about half over, and it was POPPIN' at my crib. Made the mistake of trying to mix myself a drink and pop some popcorn, but I couldn't even control my arms, I WAS SO PUMPED WATCHING TERRY CREWS BLOW FUCKING EVERYBODY AWAY HOLY FUCK @ 0:14.




Those dudes get BLOWN TO BITS. Listen to that clip, it's 37 seconds of nonstop GUNSHOTS. Dude. Pretty much the whole movie was dudes getting shot to shit.

Speaking of getting blown to bits, pretty cool how the producer of the movie thought it would be cool to realistically interpret one of my bowel movements in the following scene! I couldn't be more flattered!




PUMP levels are through the roof right now! Don't think we can have a serious PUMP discussion about The Expendables and not feature my boi, Jason Statham. Don't think that for a second. You came here to get PUMPED OUTTA YOUR MIND, so we're gonna watch Mr. Statham DESTROY like 5 dudes, with one of them being a...gasp...WOMANBEATER.

WE DON'T TOLERATE NO WOMANBEATIN' ROUND HERE, ASSHOLES! PREACH!

This scene got me so PUMPED that in my PUMPED UP THRASHING, WHILE TYPING THIS, I ACCIDENTALLY COLD-CLOCKED HECKYEAHWOMAN!

LOVIN' THE IRONY





HUMP DAY PUMP UP STARTED WITH MUSIC, so I think it's only appropriate that we celebrate the PUMP with this HDPU classic. Enjoy/get PUMPED.

Monday, February 21, 2011

happy vacation!

Let's talk about vacations for a minute.

Something just occurred to me: there are really only like four legit reasons why people go on vacation: to not have to go to work for a week or two, to enjoy a warmer climate/activities not readily available in your current locale, or to see family/friends. Last reason is probably the most common, to have something to brag about to friends and family.

Now people are going to tell you that they got to see "beautiful things", that they experienced a different culture or some equally stupid justification for spending thousands of dollars on a vacation, but the truth is that they just wanted a reprieve from their shitty life for a week and a half.

Did they get that reprieve? Kinda. But it's just an illusion. See, chances are they didn't see anything that Google doesn't already have hundreds of pictures of; they didn't experience anything so amazing and exclusive that you can't read about it on Wikipedia.

Funny thing is, I could have taken that same vacation, from my living room, for free, with my three best friends: Google, Computer and Alcohol. I wouldn't have had to get a passport, dick around at the airport two hours before my flight, deal with lost luggage, get mugged, or get frustrated with any of the challenges of traveling.

What I could have done is see all the things you saw, read about all the experiences you think you had, print recipes for all the food you think you ate, and I could have done it all while chugging beer in my living room, sitting in my underwear. Didn't cost me a cent, and I won't annoy anyone to death with a serious case of "traveler's ego". AND I got to do it in my underwear. Fact: everything is better when done in your underwear. Win win.

The worst is when people go on a supposed fantastic vacation, then force you to look through their horrible, tragically mundane pictures. Again, you could look at those same pictures, from much better photographers, without sacrificing 45 minutes of your life to the insane ravings of how "they" went there, and how "amazing" it was. Speaking of amazing, I CANNOT STAND when people refer to bands as "amazing". But that's something we'll talk about at a later time.

Listen, nobody gives a shit that you got your picture taken next to a volcano. You told me about it three times and I believe you, but I don't need to look at 25 slightly different photographic variations of you and a volcano. There are, however, two scenarios where I want to see a picture of you and a volcano: the first is you falling into it, and the second is it erupting all over you. Have a picture of that? No? Then I don't give a shit.

OK, yeah but maybe I’ll look at your pictures of your vacation to Bali, but only to get a glimpse of your fat girlfriend in her bikini on the beach. C'mon, maybe a nipslip or something, bro.

Oh, you flew to South Africa last summer to watch the World Cup? That's funny, I got just as drunk as you, except I wasn't up at 6AM watching soccer games with a bunch of people that hate me. But the cultural experience, man! Newsflash - getting drunk as shit, snacking on boerewors, and retreating back to your hotel room is not immersing yourself in local South African culture. Note that you immersing yourself in a vat of boiling water would be something I'd be interested in.

And no, I don't want to see your pictures. Unless of course there is a great shot of you getting eaten by some sort predatory animal.

Friday, February 18, 2011

black history month

I totally forgot about black history month! How could I do such a thing!? Oh yeah, because I don't give a shit about black people.

Or white people. Or any people, really.

For real though, I would like to apologize to both African Americans that read this blog: I'm sorry.

My bad, friends! Thing is, most people always associate black history month with black PEOPLE. As unbelievable as it may sound, the world doesn't revolve around black people (or any people), and there are a bunch of other black things that may feel left out.

Take, for instance, BLACK metal.






















Weirdos dressing up all weird and then running around in the forest, howling songs about the winterdaemon. I guess looking like that, I can't blame them for maybe feeling left out of the having-a-month-named-after-you sweepstakes. At any rate, black metal definitely doesn't deserve its own month.

Speaking of music, on the opposite end of the worthless spectrum, albeit for different reasons, we have the BLACK Eyed Peas.

















If your job is to make watered down pop music, and you fail at it miserably, you are probably the Black Eyed Peas. When the only redeeming quality of your musical group is the 6/10-faced-10/10-bodied-0/10-voiced frontwoman, you are, for lack of a better word, fucked. At the end of the day, when your namesake pea is rated higher on the awesome scale, you definitely don't deserve your own month.




















Real BLACK eyed peas, delicious you are, but you don't get your own month either.

The BLACK Death is a another sleeper candidate.

















The Black Death? Does that deserve its own month? While the Holocaust is often remembered, and its anniversary commemorated, maybe something that dwarfs the Holocaust's death total deserves a month of its own?

You ever seen a BLACK widow? The spider?



















FUCK THAT KILL IT WITH FIRE BLACK HISTORY MONTH IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR ANYTHING WITH 8 LEGS FUCK YOU BLACK WIDOW.

Finally, the last candidate is BLACKberry.























It's got a couple things in it's favor: First, it's not an apple product, so there's that. Remember when the first of your friends got an iphone, the first time you were at the bar, and an impossible question came up in conversation, one that needed to be answered by quickly browsing the web, and your friend whips out his (or her) iphone, and says, "let me check my iphone", instead of just quietly checking the iphone? Remember that? Second, I've never used a Blackberry, never been confused by its menus or anything, so I've never had the chance to feel let down by its inferiority to the iphone, keeping it on my anything-is-better-than-apple pedestal.

That's all I got. If you're still reading this, either you thought it was funny (IT WAS), or you think I need some racial sensitivity training.

If it's the latter, I'd tell you to party your way off the top of the tallest building in your city, but honestly, I need the page views for the post on Monday. Preesh.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: THE PUNCH

Was at the bar with a fellow dudebro on Saturday night, broin' down, drankin' beers, eatin' fried food, creepily leering at 6/10's, and gettin' loaded. Yes, I dared leave the comfort of my own living room.

Being that we were at a SPORTS BAR, each of the 37,000 TVs were featuring one sporting event or another.

Turns out, most of our attention was focused on the Pitt - Villanova matchup, and our mindfulness paid off: we witnessed an epic scuffle, of sorts. And it was as PUMPY as it gets.

Watch the video below and get PUMPED over this dudes little stealth right-hook-under-the-guise-of-a-brohug.





Lol, that Villanova dude took a play right outta the PITTsburgh Steelers' playbook with that nice little cheap shot. Pretty awesome though. It was hilarious, we were actually watching the game when it happened. That 10 seconds of brohug/punch was replayed at least 30 times, from every single angle...even from angles where I didn't think they had cameras.

Speaking of punches. Check out this fake vid of some little punk decking some other little punk.





Man, when I was in high school, I never got to see anything that blatantly awesome. Well, one time I saw *** ****** get beat up, and that was pretty awesome. SO PUMPED.

I remember I was heading to class, and there was moderate sized crowd gathered around some hurried activity. Then all I remember is that fuck head pushing his way outta there, probably into the bathroom, bloody face and all. Kept that INNER-PUMP to myself, cause I was a skinny little turd back then. But yo, I was still PUMPED.

Dude was such a little shit.

Then I remember one time after class, waiting for the buss one winter - I think it was my freshman year of high school. I was chillin', waiting for my bus to pull up, and I see some dude push his girlfriend into a snowbank, then board the bus.

Not sure what spurred it, don't know the story, don't care, just ROFL'D. And this was before ROFLing even existed, back in like '96.

I'd never seen anything like that before lol it was awesome. Got me so PUMPED that I almost missed my bus.

Then I realized that I almost missed my bus and my PUMP turned into PISSED. So PISSED that I DIDN'T HAVE A GIRLFRIEND TO THROW INTO THE SNOWBANK.

NOW I HAVE A WIFE TO THROW INTO THE SNOWBANK.

BONUS PUMP: my friend's band, Idol and the Whip, is playing a record release show this Saturday night, and I got PUT ON THE LIST, VIP TREATMENT AT THE CLUB AND WILL PROBABLY GET AN AUTOGRAPHED 8X10 GLOSSY. Their new record is awesome, check it out.

Monday, February 14, 2011

conversation from a bookstore

Hey I hope everybody had a great weekend! It's like Sunday ends, and then all of a sudden we get blindsided by Valentine's Day.

Or maybe we don't.

Anyway, did some Valentine's Day shopping on Saturday, it was nice. Since my wife is a doctor, I try to get her things that I think smart people like - chemistry sets, computers, diploma frames and BOOKS.

And there I was, at the bookstore. Having a couple books I kinda wanted to pick up, I asked the customer service lady to see if they had them in stock cause I was too lazy to go dicking around.

They had a kindle-looking device on display up there, and after eyeballing it, I kindly inquired about it. Here's the actual conversation that took place:

"That thing looks cool, what is that, for checking out e-books?", I axe her.






















"Yeah".

"Cool, and then you download them onto this kindle thing, and then what? Does it automatically convert it into movie form so you don't have to waste your time reading?"

"Excuse me?", she asks.

"If I buy that thing, can I download a book, and then have that thing convert it into a movie, so it's like it's a dvd?"

"Not exactly; it's actually a downloadable, readable e-version of the book," she answered, looking annoyed.

"Does it even read the book back to you? Like in a wide selection of interesting voices to choose from?"

"Not that I know of. We do have a full selection of audio books over there, if you're interested."

My barrage of questions follows: "you still have to read it? Why wouldn't you just buy the book if you wanted to waste time reading? Do they even make a product that converts downloaded books into movies?"

"Not that I know of."

"Cool, well do you know if that's something that's in the pipeline? I bet it would be huge", as I leave.

Went over, perused the bargain books, and settled on a $6.99 book about something or other.

Friday, February 11, 2011

piano bar

Here's one from the archives, from like last May.

So we were in Orlando to celebrate Heckyeahwoman BECOMING A DOCTOR! Being the AWESOME GUY that I am, I booked us a room at Orlando's finest Econo Lodge. It's formerly a Best Western, and hasn't yet taken on the shittttttiness that comes with the Ecrapo Lodge name.

And it's $35 a night.

But for real, it's dope as hell, a great value, clean, has a sweet pool, and is close to fun stuff...like a dueling piano bar!

You ever been to one? It's basically like watching a house band at a bar, but they play popular songs, no shitty originals, and it's much more interactive. So much fun.

So we went for a couple beers and had a great time. Stay with me as I detail a few notable experiences from the night.

Since they take requests, the first thing I do is put in a formal request. Take a guess what song. Go ahead, at least guess the band. I bet you're only partially right, cause here's the actual request I wrote:

Can you please play "Party in the USA" by Miley Cyrus? If you don't know that one, anything by Maroon 5 would be great. Actually, I would PREFER anything by Maroon 5. I would suggest "Sunday Morning", "This Love", or "She Will be Loved", not necessarily in that order. Thanks!

Do you know how hard it is to squeeze a short paragraph onto two short lines meant for just the artist and song title? Now multiply that by pre-partying drunk handwriting. Twas a mess, friends.

Turns out they did play both "Party in the USA" and "This Love". Turns out I drunkenly sang along to both, rather obnoxiously. Also turns out that Heckyeahwoman was too loaded to care/yell at me! Score!

It was cool, they would let anyone in the crowd come up and play an instrument. Naturally, some handsome guy came up and played the drums. Not sure why this was noteworthy, but I was definitely more handsome than him, if even just by a little bit. Dude had a great haircut too.

Then later in the night, I inevitably had to use the turlet. And by "use the turlet", I mean I had to spill some urine, you feel me? Spill some urine, bros.

Charging a $10 cover, the bar was fancy/luxurious/succulent/sensuous/enough to provide a bathroom butler. You know, one of those dudes that stands there and squirts Dial hand soap on your hand, then hands you a paper towel to dry your hands, then tries to make petty conversation with you. Oh, and you're supposed to tip him too.

Paying a dude to squirt soap on my hand, for real. It's probably not even real Dial soap; I bet it's some shitty Suave bought-in-bulk liquid soap. Anyway, I'm rambling.

But I don't want no dude squirtin' nothin' on my hand.

After washing my hands, saying what's up to the bathroom butler, I hear him mumble something to me.

"I'm sorry, what's up?" I ask.

"Where you from, man?" He stammers, a little louder.

I answer, "Gainesville, WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU FROM?"

And he gives me the oddest reply: "ah, from Florida, you're a person".

That's it, that's all he said. WHAT?!

Maybe he just didn't like all the out-of-state tourists, but still, VERY weird.

Having been at the bar for around two hours, and with how interactive the band was with the crowd - inviting patrons to sing along, dance on stage, and make asses out of themselves, it was surprising there was no obligatory fat-chick-with-not-enough-clothes-on dancing on the stage.

Yet.

Right as the band tore into a rousing rendition of Sir-Mix-A-Lot's "Baby Got Back", she appeared, thundering her way to the stage. No lie, shawtie was morbidly obese, wearing a tiny black tanktop, and gross tight pants. I threw up a little bit in my mouth rehashing the events in my mind as I type this out.

Much to the collective dismay of the crowd, homegirl was backing it up on the stage. It should be noted that she was with a couple of her friends, also obese. Though not quite morbidly obese, both friends' obesity levels teetered just between "have you ever heard of hoggin'?" and "haha, it would be funny if my friend nailed that cow".

A general rule: believe it or not, but big boobs on fat chicks are not hot. In fact, what were formerly big boobs cease being big boobs; they actually become floppy, droopy boobs, and that's not cool. Nobody wants to see them jiggle, shake, bounce, flop around, or anything. Cover 'em up, wear modest clothes, and don't speak until spoken to.

Long story short, the piano bar was awesome.

Wednesday, February 9, 2011

SUPER BOWL PUMP!

Week started off GREAT with a GREEN BAY PACKERS SUPER BOWL VICTORY on Sunday. Truth is, I'm not sure if I'm happier about the Packers victory, or the Steelers LOSS! What a great game though!

Either way, I started this week off with the right PUMPY MINDSET.
AIN'T NOTHIN' GONNA BREAK MY STRIDE, AIN'T NOTHIN' GONNA SLOW

ME

DOWN


OH NO!

And then Monday morning happened. Woke up early to go to work (UNPUMP), ate breakfast (PUMP), and then hit the bathroom for the daily dump'n shower (PUMP).

Except things took a turn for the worse with a VERY unsatisfying dump. Felt like I had three pounds of poop still up in me all day. Don't worry friends, like Greg Jennings, YOU CAN'T STOP ME, and I went to the gym to hit it hard as shit (PUMP).

Unfortunately, Heckyeahwoman is going out of town on HUMP DAY (the nerve!) - HUMP DAY is like my Sabbath. But the only god I worship is the almighty GOD OF PUMP (see my lizard god of PUMP immediately below)
















PUMP YEAH

But don't worry, it's HUMP DAY, and I'm gonna BRO DOWN and BACH IT UP SO HARD. Got my sickest jeans, got my hair product, got my western flannel pearl snaps, got my sickest kicks, yo I'ma do this.

I might even order some wings. Honey if you're reading this, I promise I won't order pizza every night, have fun, miss you, love you!

(I'M TOTALLY GONNA ORDER PIZZA EVERY NIGHT)

(AND FUCKING SNORT BLOW OFF HOOKERS' ASSES HOLY SHIT I ALREADY CALLED IN TO WORK, BURIED UNDER THE SNOOOOWWW)!

OK BACK TO FOOTBALL, not tryin' to get divorced here.

Check out this dickwhiffer shedding tears over the BIG GAME!





















And then to add insult to injury, Little Wayne raps about the Packers! And he uses naughty words!

I'M A CHEESEHEAD, Y'ALL NWORDS CHEESEWHIZ





Never thought I'd hear Little Wayne rapping about the Packers. Or anything related to Wisconsin.

But when you're THIS PUMPED UP, ANYTHING CAN HAPPEN

Here, check out this video. Dude I work with, *****, requested a Vandals song. And who am I to not post this awesome VANDALS SONG?

Monday, February 7, 2011

shop locally, think globally, rofl universally

I just read a very alarming article about a family that is only buying from local businesses for a year.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have any qualms about buying from a local business, in fact, two of my good friends own a sweet local store. Sadly I have never bought anything from them (my wife has)...mainly because they don't have a lot of men's stuff, it's pretty expensive, and they don't cater to my "scumbag-chic style", opting for a clean, fashionable look instead. And I hate the environment. Doesn't mean you shouldn't check it out though. AND YOU FUCKING SHOULD.

Back to the article and family: The wife owns her own PR/Marketing firm, but what do you expect from a person who names their company Sourdough Marketing? Naming your business after the savory bookends of a Hardee's Frisco Burger? Well now that I put it like that, sounds pretty genius lol. But still, fuck them.

And the husband, ***** *******, works for a small start-up called American Express. Who? Never heard of 'em, they must be local. "Sorry boss, I can't take this paycheck, since you're not a local, small business".

I don't know, is that what cherry picking is?

Apparently their fad idea was spurred by their favorite restaurant closing down (I'm holding back tears). Funny that the author mentions the restaurant being located at a busy intersection - which, if you're a restaurant, that's where you're gonna wanna be! Place must have really sucked dong! And in truly liberal fashion, rather than blaming the restaurant for all that dong sucking, they're projecting the blame elsewhere. Yes, I'm serious.

I can't think of another business or industry that depends so much on the customer experience. A restaurant's success or failure depends solely on whether or not the product or service is worth the price being charged. If you love it, you tell your friends, and you go back; if you hate it, you tell your friends and never go back. About as black and white as it gets, folks.











Check out the new Scratch N Sniff picture widget I just added above: I can just smell the "local" in the picture.

The best part is how they argue that buying more expensive, over-priced shit actually saves money. Their logic: You go to a big-box department store for one thing, and leave with a shitload of other things, costing you more than what you initially set out to buy. Not surprisingly, they liberally shoot holes in their own argument by stating that many times, you get things for free. And as we all know, it's actually less expensive to pay money for things, rather than to get them for free. Wait, what?

The truth: if you do find yourself in that situation, again it's not big bad Target FORCING YOU AT GUNPOINT to buy things; it's your own consumerist, materialistic urges that YOU can't control. If you go to the store and buy things you don't need, that's your own fault! And if you do it enough where it's causing financial or budgetary problems within your family, please PLEASE PLEASE sterilize yourself. Then consider suicide.

As kind of a side note, these people are raising kids. That's right, ***** and ***** ******* are imparting these infallible skills of critical analysis upon their children. Can't read between the lines? No worries, neither can they or their kids(!): their kids are fucked because the parents don't know SHIT. And in this crazy world, not knowing the basics of how money or business works is not a good thing. Actually, it might qualify you for a place in Obama's administration.

Lol @ this: "Instead of spending Saturday shopping at Target, we go to the park," ******* said.

Because when I go to Target on the weekend, I spend all afternoon there, totally preventing me from working out. Who are these people? Like if you're going green and shopping locally and shit, that's cool, but why the fuck are you making these DIPSHITS your spokespeople?

Like, if you're trying to convince me to do something, doesn't it make sense for your talking head to string together coherent arguments about why I should smell what they're cooking? Kind of like how the Democrats told the media to make Sarah Palin the Tea Party mouthpiece, Inc is making these fucktards the shop locally movement's mouthpiece.

The article ends with this little nugget, from ***** *******: "I hope after 12 months we don't go on some Wal-Mart spree, because there are so many long-term benefits."

A Wal-Mart spree? So many benefits? Surely she means all the benefits that weren't mentioned in the article, the ones that were implied.

Yeah ******* family, you show those big mean companies, you show 'em what's up. Boycott those big bad stores, and hopefully others will think like you, and someday maybe those evil corporations will be out of business! Yeah, let's hope that the millions of people those companies employ all lose their jobs! Wouldn't that be awesome!?!? Fuck yeah it would, and all those unemployed people can overpay for their overpriced, pseudo organic groceries at small, local businesses, putting them further in the hole, and making it harder for them to provide for their families!

Congratulations ******* family, you just changed the world.

Also, they have a blog, and it's filled with more Abderian nonsense than you can shake a locally made stick at. Here's an excerpt:

We ate at a couple of rather uninspired places that we’d prefer to forget. Note: You won’t see bad places specifically mentioned here as we don’t want to hurt anyone’s business. But, if a place is good, we’ll definitely be writing about it.

Read: they don't want reality to interfere with their, or anyone else's, life. Fuck this family; this is what's wrong with America.

Bottom line: someone needs to ask which local business manufactured and sold them either of their Volvos, their Dockers khaki pants, their white picket fence, their Gap sweaters, the wife's Coach purse, their house, etc..

Friday, February 4, 2011

weeknight journey

Wow, don't even know where to begin here.

Thursday evening, just left the office, headin' to the gym. FUCK, huge backup on the highway. Wasn't even an accident, just some idiot got pulled over. Like, if I'm going to be stuck in a traffic delay, there better be some gruesome accident, with dead bodies pilin' up, just for my troubles.

Great way to start off Thirsty Thursday. Gonna skip the gym cause it's already 6:30, and I'm not even off the highway yet.

Finally get home, I'm pissed, "hey Heckyeahwoman, you want to go to the mall or Penney's or something?"

After a little back-and-forth, she agrees. Off to Penney's and Macy's, so she can spend some store credit left over from the holidays.

Naturally we're both hungry, and after like two hours of dicking around the mall, it's like 8:30. So after discussing where to eat, and after I mention to her that one of my sick-jeans'ed co-workers mentioned going to Ruby Tuesday earlier in the week for lunch, we decide it sounds tasty.


















Now when my co-worker, and his sneezed upon jeans, suggested getting lunch at Ruby Tuesday, I scoffed at him, "that's too far, bro".

He shot right back, "bro, it's only by the mall, bro. And that salad bar is so sick, bro".

Shooting a dagger into the dying heart of his request, "bro, like I said, too far".

End of discussion...

Until we were at the mall last night, thinking we should hit it up for dinner. So we drive up and down State Street (the alleged location) three times, thinking we merely missed it each of the previous times. Finally, on our 2nd lap around the mall, I text my bird-flu-denim'd co worker, and he tells me, "yeah, just like a mile past the mall, take a right on Michigan Ave, it's on the right".

We wound up driving like six miles until we finally found this place. Like five text messages, asking where the hell this place was, and one phone call, describing in detail the very location, and there it was.

And you know what? It was one of the most epic Thursday night dinners I've ever had.

Having not been in a Ruby Tuesday's for like five years, I was expecting a bar and grill, with a sweet salad bar. Turns out, it was like a Macaroni Grill, minus the macaroni, but plus a salad bar...and same level of classiness!

It was awesome!

Like, somebody classed that joint up too. Fancy napkins, great bathrooms, shitty seafood on the menu in the middle of Michigan trying to play itself off as legit, regal booths...dude, Ruby Tuesday's is the dope. Food wound up being pretty decent, standard fare.

But the salad bar was tasty. I mean, how can you ferk up a salad bar? Stick that with pizza, tacos, beer, whiskey, and blowjobs in the unfuckupable file.

Bottom line: we live in Ann Arbor, and we drove to a neighboring town, Saline, to get to that goddamned place. Was it worth it? Oh yeah. But we did drive OUT OF TOWN to go out for dinner on a Thursday night, cause we thought the place was "just down the street", as we'd...no, as I'd been led to believe.

And then to top it off, when we got home, Heckyeahwoman told me that our 6 month old kitten, Orange Guy, recently got his second kitty-boner. This, after she nearly had a meltdown the other night, when he got his FIRST kitty-boner.

That dark red boner sure was striking against his handsome orange fur.

Weekend is almost here, Packers are in the Super Bowl, Hines Ward belongs in a zoo, and I would have Clay Matthews III's baby.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

HUMP DAY PUMP UP: THE RACK

Dude, I've been doing this blog for like two and a half years. That's a long ass time! At the end of June, it'll be like three whole years! AWESOME BLOG PUMP!

So what does that mean?

It doesn't matter. What does matter is that I'm about to give you ANOTHER glimpse into my personal life. True story, I was at the gym the other day (FUCK YEAH GOING TO THE GYM ON THE WEEKEND PUMP!), and saw some awesome commercial with some dude exercising the shit out of some rack looking contraption. Wait, what?

Read on.

But first: BONUS KILLIN' BRAIN CELLS WHILE KILLIN' MY LATS AT THE GYM PUMP!

And I feel bad because youtube vids have dominated my recent posting - my bad, but there's just sooooo much awesome. Check this commercial out - it had me mesmerized:




Look at that freakin' thing! It's insane. HOW CAN YOU NOT BE SO PUMPED JUST LOOKING AT IT!?!?! IMAGINE HOW PUMPED YOU WILL BE WHEN YOU LOOK AT THE STILL IMAGE OF IT JUST BELOW!















I'm rock hard right now!

But wait! You're about to get ROCK HARD, yourself! Heckyeahwoman snapped a couple shots of me workin' out with it, in our living room. SHIRTLESS BONER PUMP!

Wish we coulda fit our sweet suede couch into the shot, but I had to move it into the hallway so I had enough room to WORKOUT WITH THE RACK!
















Sick traps, bro!

LOOK AT ME HURDLING ALL OVER THAT THING LIKE WHAT!






















I did that for like 20 minutes. I swear, and I'm not sure if it was that, or the PUMP, but the lower half of my body is completely NUMB! GOTTA BE THE PUMP/BLOW!

OK, and a REAL RACK TO PUMP YOU UP WHILE I'M OUT SHOVELING FOR THE NEXT 4 DAYS.

















PREESHIN THAT PUMP, FRIENDS!