Friday, April 29, 2011

friday advice

Was browsing the twice weekly advice column the other day, and this selection was SCREAMING at me. Cause, uh, I can relate. Well I can't relate to DISPARAGING MY MOTHER IN MY BLOG, but I can relate to my parents being offended by it lol.

Sadly the original query, along with the accompanying answer were both pretty boring.

Q. Mom Offended by My Blog: I recently started a blog, which I have opened to general readership. My latest post is about a women's retreat I recently attended and a surprising (for me) encounter with the female divine I had there. In my post I mentioned my relationship with my mother, saying it is "constrained, fraught, difficult," which it often is, though not always. Those three words about our relationship are all I said about her in the post, but my mother found my blog, read them, and is deeply offended by my "unflattering description of her." I didn't intend to offend her and regret it, but at the same time what I wrote was true and was an important part of my story. (It is quite possible that she was also uncomfortable with the rest of the post, because I am certain she would not approve of my attending the retreat or being inspired by the Goddess, though she has not said anything about that.) I intend to continue writing about my life, and there are many important people who influence me in ways both good and bad. Is it possible for a person to balance the desire to write about life, to be honest about that life, yet not hurt the people who mean the most to them? Was I wrong to write about a difficult relationship in a public forum (she asks as she writes to Dear Prudence)?'

I honestly have no idea what any of this means, but can you imagine the blog possibilities if I attended a women's retreat? Female divines, goddesses, crazy spiritual broads pouring out their "feelings" OMG? I hate feelings!

Here's my analysis of this lady: she is an overzealous spiritualist weirdo who probably hears weird voices, burns a lot of candles for weird reasons, wears a lot of ugly rings, has long and stringy hair, is probably overweight, has fake fingernails, is extremely oversensitive and wears a lot of black.

Damn I should be a profiler.

The question being asked here is really a testament to the crippling lack of functioning brain power the lady suffers from on a daily basis. Seriously, she goes through life - to work, to the grocery store, maybe she bought a house or a car - with a very limited ability to reason, think and process information.

What do you think - If I say something mean about somebody to them, am I wrong to be surprised when the object of my libel gets pissed?

That's scary. People like her are the reason for sub prime mortgages: sub prime people.

What does our venerable advice-giver have to say? Basically she just churched up what I wrote:

A: Your encounter with the female divine prompted you to tell the world about the female rotten—your mother. Did the Goddess give you any guidance about starting a blog with a post about how difficult your mother is? I'm assuming that at least until your blog goes viral, your mother makes up the bulk of your readers. So surely you knew that posting an unflattering description of your relationship with her was unlikely to improve that relationship. Of course, novelists and memoir-writers would have to find another line of work if it was verboten to write about how terrible their parents were. I'm not saying it's wrong for you to write whatever you want for the world to see. What's wrong is being naive about how it's going to affect your most devoted reader.

Love the zing in there about her mother making up most of her readership!

On a side note, my mom emailed me a joke the other day, from this past Easter:

When I was driving home from work I saw the Easter Bunny hopping down the Bunny Trail which as you know, runs right alongside the road I live on. I stopped and asked, "Mr. Easter Bunny, can I give you a ride in my truck?" The Easter Bunny said, "Heck Yeah Man." and I said "No, I am Heck Yeah Mom."

This reminds me: if you have questions you're dying to have answered or want to be famous, comment here, hit us on twitter, facebook or email us at

Wednesday, April 27, 2011


Far be it from me to get everybody all riled up over politics. We could get in a huge political argument where you think you're right and I think I'm right, and then I actually would be right.

But that's no fun.

Well it is for me, cause the only thing more satisfying than you realizing the error of your ways is watching some dumb fuck get all riled up because common sense just isn't a common denominator. And that's on you buddy.

Honestly though, I found these awesome MASHUPS and am WAY MORE PUMPED ABOUT THEM THAN ANY POLITICAL CRAP. Get PUMPED as the Biebs jams on some tuneage all mixed up with the father-hating nu-metal stylings of Slipknot.

I think I can truly state that this is the best thing that Slipknot has ever done...or had done to them. Though I thought I remember their junkie percussionist overdosing or something. Could be way off base, maybe he got stabbed. Maybe he wasn't even a junkie. ASS out of U and ME, friends.

Speaking of the best thing ever, check out this compilation of a bunch of awesome songs from this past summer.

I think I spent more time in my car, on the road, last summer, than I did out of the car lol. We drove to Texas and back, then from Florida to Michigan. Oh crap, but Heckyeahwoman squeezed an extra trip to Michigan in there lol.

It was awesome, we drove all over the place! Good thing we had awesome POP music to fuel us! Gas prices are really too high anyway.




You'll never guess this but they are playing two (2) Michigan dates. I knew we moved to Michigan for a reason! Sadly I have plans for one date, but will be there in the front row for the second date runtelldat.

That's right, ur boi is gonna purchase the VIP meet n greet package. Imagine their surprise when after loads of teenage girls waiting in line for the meet n greet, all of a sudden a handsome, muscular 30 year old, grown-ass man appears from the shadows. Yeah, and I'm a hugger, guys.

Let's do this!

OK here's some politics cause this never gets old:

Sarah Palin as presidential nominee? Terrifying. Get PUMPED cause there's no way that's ever gonna happen.



Monday, April 25, 2011

dry cleaning douche virgin

I hope everybody had a nice "Easter" weekend. Me, I know I did, but we may or may not get to that in a little bit. What I'd like to talk about is my experience at the dry cleaners with the "douchevirgin".

How do I know he was a douche? I interacted with him.
How do I know he was a virgin? I interacted with him.

Dropped off my load of clothes one morning, totally forgot my coupon, and the dude said that I needed to have the coupon present to be able to use it. Of course I got him to confirm that the coupon was in the monthly Clipper coupon magazine, the exact discount, the date of expiration, only thing was I didn't physically have it with me because multitasking is hard :( .

Dude, you know I have the coupon, I just told you all about its exact specifications, don't be an asshole.

So sorry, too late. Told him to have my clothes ready in three days, then left.

Like a week later I finally remembered to pick them up lol.

This time I actually brought the coupon. Knowing what he said last time, I figured I probably wouldn't win here. Though I was hoping to have a different employee working. You know, one that actually leaves the house once in a while for things other than work and groceries.

Sure as stuff, douchevirgin is the lone employee on that rainy Saturday afternoon.

He saw me pull up in my sick ride, in my nice clothes, looking awesome. Surely he was acutely aware that I am pretty goddamn good looking (thanks Mom and Dad!) and really awesome (thanks me!).

Swaggering my way into the store, I cut right to the chase: "I'm here to pick up my dry cleaning, and I know I didn't present the coupon when I dropped it off - because I forgot it at home - I have it here, and I will continue to use your store for my dry cleaning and alteration services, rather than the place right (and I mean RIGHT) across the street".

I love playing the "help me give you my money" game. Usually it works, but you generally have to be talking to someone higher up than the lowly douchevirgin. Plus you usually have to do enough business, or look like you have the potential to, for them to bite.

His douchevirgin response: "They're really nice over there".

I just paid and left.

When I need dry cleaning about once every six months, I'll be sure to use Capitol Cleaners instead of Martinizing. Jesus Christ, when I had to wear suits to work and I was dry cleaning once a week, I would go to the Martinizing in Milwaukee and the hot chicks working there would always flirt with me and GIVE me coupons.

Now I go to this Martinizing and douchevirgin is going to patronize me. Do you have any idea how hard it was not to fly off the handle?

I thinking about rolling up there right now with Heckyeahwoman, and dishing out some CROWBAR JUSTICE on this Easter Sabbath.

Nah, we're both too full from brunch. That, and HYW told me that's a bad idea.

Friday, April 22, 2011

picky eater advice

Advice time!

Dear Prudence,

I'm in my mid-20s and just got engaged to a sweet, funny, and attentive guy, whom I love very much. The problem? He's a very picky eater. He eats only about 10 things, all stuff you'd see on a kids' menu, such as chicken fingers, fries, plain pizza, and grilled cheese. He doesn't have a good explanation for it; he just says he doesn't like the textures of other foods. He knows it's a problem but doesn't do anything to work on it. This bothers me for several reasons. For one, though his doctor says he's healthy, I'm concerned that later he'll suffer the consequences of eating fried foods and no vegetables. Second, the refusal to eat like a grownup is a turn-off, and I see this trait as childish and stubborn. Third, his eating habits severely limit where we eat out. We'll never dine at an interesting restaurant, which I can get over, but it would be nice to have a special dinner somewhere other than a pizza parlor. I love him and don't want to make him feel embarrassed or pressured, but his picky eating is starting to grate on me. What should I do?

—Fed Up

Is that even real? What should you do? There's only one thing: TELL HIM TO FUCKING GROW UP. TELL HIM TO STOP ACTING LIKE A GODDAMN CHILD AND START ACTING LIKE A MAN. Lucky for you, there are a couple of ways to tell him what a dipshit he is.

1. Go out and buy shitloads of veggies and every kind of food that he hates. Put that food all over the kitchen in all of its delicious glory. Then right before he gets home from work, grab the first guy you see and let him go to town on you right as your husband walks in the door.

2. Straight up tell him he's being a pussy. "Honey, your eating habits fucking disgust me. You are a real piece of shit". If he doesn't get the point, that's all you need to know right there.

3. Buy him knives, meat, guns, whiskey, tools, Clint Eastwood DVDs and maybe he'll get the picture.

And now here's Prudie's advice, with my critique immediately below:

Dear Fed,
His Happy Meal is your unhappy meal. Here's something to chew on: Your fiance and people like him might have their very own listing in the next edition of the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders. Mental health professionals are considering making "selective eating" a new eating disorder. Right now, little is known about the condition, but researchers believe it could be a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder. Your fiance could even participate in Duke University's online survey of adult finicky eaters. The typical finicky diet—bland, white, cheesy, greasy—pretty much describes what your boyfriend probably wants to tell the caterer to serve for your wedding reception.

Sorry, gotta chime here before the next paragraph of advice: holy shit, being a spoiled little shit is a mental disorder now? It is absolutely mindboggling how FUCKING BABIED people are. You don't want to eat your brussel sprouts? You're suffering from Selective Eating!

Did you get caught boning your secretary? Sorry honey, I'm suffering from Selective Boning!

I got caught snarking the receptionist's chair! Sorry receptionist, I'm suffering from Selective Snarking!

Selective Frotting, Selective Hating, Selective Letting the Dog Out, Selective Cleaning, Selective Flagellation, Selective Respect, Selective Loving, Selective Child Rearing, Selective Safe-Sexing, Selective Binge Drinking, Selective Lurking, Selective Leering, Selective Creeping, I could go on.

Where does the line get drawn and when do we start taking responsibility for our own problems? My guess is never.

Prudie drops some more knowledge:

Most couples can accommodate differences in taste. But your boyfriend wants to go through life tasting only 10 things. So you will be annoyed by his limitations every night at dinner, during every social event, and at every celebration. Perhaps it would help if you thought of this as a medical issue. If he had celiac disease, you would be sympathetic to his food restrictions. Of course, he could try to change, and seeking out a cognitive behavioral therapist would be the way to go. Successful treatment requires that he have a stated goal of, say, going out for Thai food with you. But his actual goal may be avoiding Thai, and all other cuisines except McDonald's, because just the thought of what most people eat makes him gag. You say you can live with never eating in a nice restaurant, but in the same sentence you say you're already sick of pizza parlors. You claim that you don't want to pressure or embarrass him, but you're not even married and you're finding his food phobias hard to swallow. He has a problem, which he didn't hide when you two started going out to his favorite dives. You had the chance to conclude, He's a great guy, but he only eats chicken fingers and fries, and I can't take it. Instead you stayed, and now you expect him to be someone different. Before you set the date, you need to imagine celebrating all of your anniversaries at Domino's.


I hate to be crass here, but basically you're a dumb bitch who knew what you were getting into. You actively chose to agree to marry a child. The only correct assumption here is that you too are a dipshit, and you obviously have some hideous, unnamed childish habit that you likely try to pawn off as a legit mental deficiency. True, you both are grossly mentally deficient, but that stems from your childhood lack of "no's".

All your parents had to do was say "NO" once in a while and you'd probably be fine. It's so scary not just that you'll procreate, but the fact that a legit mental disorder is even being discussed here - in a context other than absolute ridicule.

My wife is a behavior analyst, and while I didn't ask her about any of this stuff, I assumed things and came to the conclusion that you're pissing me off.

You know, I try to end Friday posts with something positive, like a "THE WEEKEND OMG PARTY TIME", but you've ruined that.


Wednesday, April 20, 2011


This is the second straight HUMP DAY PUMP UP where the PUMP consists entirely of weekend activities. But first I'm gonna get this out of the way: I know that today is 4/20. Haha weed jokes lol.

Back to the PUMP:

I don't even know where to start, cause to tell you the truth, I think I'm still hungover and I can't totally see straight. Yeah, I think you know where I'm going with this.

Let's get this PUMP poppin' with events on Friday: had a great day at work, played three games of horse (actually won one), and was a couple beers deep by the time I left. Cut through the parking lot, cut some asshole off, almost caused a three car collision (fuck you I'm buzzin'), got home and Mother in Law was chillin' on the couch, having just cooked up a shitload of food.

Literally I walked in the door and the scent of delicious baked goods invaded my newly trimmed nostrils. It was awesome. Heckyeahwoman and Father in Law got home shortly and after slamming a couple cold ones (, dawg), we headed out for a fancy dinner at a fancy restaurant.

Heck yeah, we had a sweet Groupon coupon so we ate like KINGS for pennies on the dollar. PENNIES ON THE DOLLAR PUMP


HYW's sister and her boyfriend flew in late Friday night, but they got in a little early so we drove to the D to get them. Love when flights are early, especially on Friday night when I'm lookin' to get TORE UP ya feel me.

Almost forgot, speaking of getting tore up, WE DID GET ALL KINDS OF LOADED. Had a busy day planned out on Saturday, no big deal that we all overslept by like two hours! NOT GIVIN' A FO PUMP CAUSE IT'S THE WEEKEND PUMP DRINKIN' BLACK COFFEE AND THINKIN' ABOUT HAVING A BLOODY MARY BUT THEN ULTIMATELY DECIDING NOT TO BECAUSE THE VODKA WAS GONE PUMP

Ran some errands during the day on Saturday, got stuck in traffic and had HYW screaming at me to turn around, and telling me I shoulda gone the other way. Had to tell her to pipe down before I drive this car into that fucking school bus over there. Sister in Law and boyfriend were silenced with that little revelation there. Hello me, meet the real me. CAN'T STOP KEEPIN IT REAL WITH THE INLAWS PUMP


And for the record, yeah, that PUMPED ME UP.

Anyway, everybody was out doing stuff all day, much of it in preparation of dinner.

Yeah, and Saturday night we celebrated Easter. What? It wasn't Easter you say? Well aren't we just A BUNCH OF CHRISTHATING ASSHOLES BLASPHEMING BY CELEBRATING A HOLY HOLIDAY ON THE WRONG DAY RESURRECTION PUMP

Not enough of a faux-Easter PUMP for you? Well you shoulda sampled the lamb we had. Normally I HATE LAMB, but this shit was grass fed and cooked to perfection. GD, throw a little of that mint sauce on it, and I literally had an (res)erection during each delicious bite (sorry mom). It was so savory and I could taste it's life. EATIN' FOOD I NORMALLY HATE AND LOVIN' IT PUMP

Sunday morning arrived hangover-free for some reason! So I did all I could do to FORCE THE HANGOVER...that happened to be heading out for brunch and bloodies and STUFFING my mouth fulla REFRIED BEANS and chilaquiles. No hangover, but did get a massive case of the 'rhea. Then capped the Sabbath off with the ULTIMATE PUMP - I HIT THE GYM HARDER THAN THE HARDEST BONG HITS.

What a great weekend. Typing this up on Tuesday night, and I would say I'm finally recovered.


Monday, April 18, 2011

kickstarter is sweet

Have you heard of Kickstarter?

A pretty cool idea. If you haven't, here's what they do, in their words:

Kickstarter is the largest funding platform for creative projects in the world. Every month, tens of thousands of amazing people pledge millions of dollars to projects from the worlds of music, film, art, technology, design, food, publishing and other creative fields.

Great idea for bands/struggling musicians.

In reading that couple of sentences though, two words IMMEDIATELY jump out at me: "amazing" and "creative". And if you listen to any punk rock, heavy metal, hardcore music, probably independent music of any type supported by hipster or hipster-looking people, where each individual member of said fanbase considers themselves a philosopher, photographer, tattoo artist, writer, an actual musician or graphic designer, than you know that terms like "amazing" and "creative" get bandied about REALLY FUCKING EXCESSIVELY.

Seriously, I listen to a lot of music in that community, have attended many shows, read many interviews and album reviews, and never have I heard more people refer to a band, an album, a live show, or a horrible piece of shit as "amazing".

Check out these truths:

Fat, sweaty asshole playing the G-C-D progression on his Fender Telecaster on stage? Amazing!
Your entire band has beards? Amazing!
A photograph of a tire? Amazing!
That band's new album that sounds just like their last album, that sounds just like band x? Amazing!

Let me tell you something: if "it" was made by an overweight, bearded, down-syndrome looking, tattooed, skinny-jeans wearing shithead, the chances of "it" being "amazing" are SLIM TO FUCKING NONE.

Think about what you're saying for a second. You really want me to believe that some marginally talented ex-singer from this or that band, playing an acoustic guitar, with a gravelly voice is "AMAZING"? Just because he used to front that much revered punk band from the 90's? Or because of his spotty acoustic guitar playing? Or because his gravelly voice somehow implies "emotion", rather than really just shitloads of whiskey, weed and a two pack-a-day habit for the last 20 years?

Kelly Clarkson is a better singer and I've heard deeper lyrics from Ke$ha. OK, that last part may not be totally true.

Now don't get me wrong, I don't like to generalize. Wait, yes I do; eat shit.

And your "art" - photos, scribbles and journal entries that appear written by a fifth grader, are not "creative". In fact, there is nothing creative about you. You are a carbon-copy of the dipshit next to you (also) with a tallboy of PBR .

Anyway, I was inspired to share this rant because I was first directed to a band looking to fund their new album through Kickstarter - which I fully endorse. The band itself isn't important - I don't particularly care for their music, and I believe they have reached their funding goal. Though they were offering some really awesome packages for those that donate, from a color vinyl copy of the new record to fellatio from your choice of band member. It's not like you'd just be donating money so the band can record, and then you can purchase a copy of said album.

But back to the lols - they had this little nugget written out in all of its glory. Read on, and see if you can find the not-so-subtle lols.

We also realize that times are tough, and it is not our intention to divert funding from any of the many urgent humanitarian causes that are in dire need of support at the moment. We encourage those in a position to donate to please consider all of your options and to donate responsibly.

Let me help you out: "donate responsibly".

Here's a picture of some dying African kid with no feet where you could click the button to the left to donate the five bucks to save his life, or you can donate thirty bucks and get a signed copy of our new album on colored vinyl.

That's a no brainer!

Capitalism sucks! But spend your money on our product or service rather than that product or service!

In laws are all gone, expect that little write up either for the HUMP DAY PUMP UP or for Friday's LAME post.

Friday, April 15, 2011


Couple things here, as we cruise into the weekend. My in-laws came into town last night and we partied hard. You know what happens when the in-laws are in town.

And guess what...we're gonna party hard tonight too. And tomorrow night. And probably even the Sabbath too.

Now that that's out of the way, let's talk about something very near and dear to my heart: exercising. I just want to share a couple thoughts.

My gym, Planet Fitness, offers free pizza every first Monday of the month. A nice gesture for sure. But they bust out like two huge plastic tables and pile high like eight stacks of pizza boxes.

The reason I go to the gym is to try to negate the damage I do to my body on the weekends. Believe me, it's brutal. Now they're trying to give me free pizza? I FERKING LOVE PIZZA. Pizza is one of those things it's impossible to screw up. You could put my workout sock on a pizza, in lieu of mushrooms, and I'd still be so PUMPED to eat it.

And the smell. Goddamn the smell of delicious pizza at the gym. While I'm trying to bang out a billion pushups. So cruel.

But even worse than the idea of the GYM offering free FATTY PIZZA, is the line of animals waiting to get their filthy, grubby, sweaty, gross hands all over a couple slices. The gym is one of the dirtiest places ever - there are germs everywhere. Rarely do I see people wash their hands, let alone wipe down the equipment. Now these motherfuckers are tying to eat some fingerfood, sans hand washing?

You've got to be shitting me. I hope your arteries clog in real-time as I'm walking by, nose in the air, shunning you and your free-pizza shithead line. JUST DIE ALREADY.

Also, they always stock a jar of tootsie rolls on the counter. Do you have any idea how hard it is (that's what she said) to not SLAP THAT JAR OF TOOTSIE ROLLS AT THE DESK ATTENDANT EVERY TIME I WALK BY? FIT OF RAGE

And you know what else? The Wii Fit is not exercising; it's playing video games while maybe breaking a light sweat. By that logic, every time I get angry I'd be getting a good workout in.



Wednesday, April 13, 2011


Do it - immediately to the right!


Wow, after that UNPUMP from Monday, let's get to the PUMPY part of my weekend. And believe me, there is plenty to be PUMPED about.

I don't even know how to do this: a list, a traditional HDPU, a video PUMP, man I don't know. Just keep reading, and the PUMPS will reveal themselves.

After the brutal movie viewing from the previous night (and all the whiskey I drank), it was no surprise that I woke up with a brutal hangover. DRANK SHITLOADS OF WHISKEY PUMP

Didn't stop me from planning out a nice little Saturday with Heckyeahwoman. Yep, we had some shopping to do, then I was gonna try to fit a work out in. After chugging coffee, eating some food, and dropping an insane deuce, out we headed. First stop: Kohls.

You'd think I would be happier about the great fitting pair of jeans I found, but no, I was (and still am) far happier about the awesome 15% off coupon we used! Watch as over $100 worth of stuff turns into like $92! I LOVE COUPONS PUMP

Next stop: Old Navy. Why? Because I got stuff to return and Heckyeahwoman has guessed it...a coupon! BOOM another huge discount courtesy of my friend, MR. COUPON. BEING BFFs WITH MR. COUPON PUMP UP

Naturally, later when we got home, Heckyeahwoman immediately tried on my new sweatshirt and claimed it as hers. NOT GONNA HAPPEND BONERPUMP

The little plaza where Old Navy is located conveniently contains a PetCo and a Borders, so we hit those stores up, IN THAT ORDER, weirdo.

PetCo was awesome because we HAD A COUPON for the refillable cat litter containers. HYW stepped up to the station with her 16lb empty jug and I stepped up with my 40lb empty jug. Despite the vast volume discrepancies, you know we were gonna race to see who could scoop the litter the fastest.

Overcoming my obvious, and much deserved, handicap, I still managed to fill my cat litter holder first. #WINNINGPUMP

That #WINNINGPUMP would of course carry over to our venture into the nearby Borders. Love that they're going out of business and stuff is like 60-80% off. YES! While we didn't have a coupon, we were ready to take advantage of those deeply discounted savings. And oddly enough, after checkout, the dude threw a 50% off coupon right into our bag! CAN'T STOP THE SAVINGS PUMP!!!

Bought a book called 365 Ways to Annoy a Liberal and it was quite underwhelming. Too much Ronald Reagan dicksucking and Christcrap for my sophisticated tastes. But for $3, what are you expecting? Anyway, annoying liberals is indeed a noble activity. You don't always have to be the fart in my bowl of soup, weirdos!

Got home, unloaded our fine coupon fueled haul, attached my new(ish) odometer/computer thing to my bike, cracked a cold one, and debated about where to keep the party poppin'.

The debate was cut short by Heckyeahwoman brandishing, with a little smile, a 20% off coupon for one of our new favorite restaurants - El Camino Real - a delicious Mexican place. It's unbelievable how awesome Mexican food is. It's also unbelievable how COMPLETELY SMOTHERED IN THE GOOIEST MELTED CHEESE BOTH OF OUR ENTREES WERE. Only thing that would have made it better: smothering my beer, HYW's margarita and the coupon in that wonderful melted cheese.


I want to keep on with the PUMP, but after that last PUMP, it's getting hard to type.

Long story short, we got home from dinner, I crapped somethin' fierce, met up with a friend for drinks, got home, got REALLY DRUNK again and fell asleep watching The Unit (lol).

Woke up Sunday morning at like 11:17 with another huge hangover, said "fuck it", and went for a great 14 mile bike ride, cause it was like 80 degrees today OMG. Had to cut the ride short so I could get to the haircutters by closing time. WENT FOR A GREAT BIKE RIDE AND GOT AN EQUALLY GREAT HAIRCUT PUMP

No coupons though :(

OK, and here comes the UNPUMP: later I tried to get a car wash, and tried three different goddamn places that were all closed/not working. HOLY SHIT. I was raging so hard that I stopped to get gas, and came home really pissed. At least I did some laundry and some cleaning.


Ok fine, here's an awesome song that sounds even better when you're giving the PUMP 110%

Monday, April 11, 2011

weekend wrap-up part I

Quite a little weekend we had there. Started stuff off right with a game of Altered Beast at the office.

Wait, what?

Yeah, Altered Beast, the game for Sega Genesis that most of us played when we were kids. This was at like 4:30, already a beer or two into the day, when homeboy in the cube across from me busts out two (2) USB controllers and tells me to get my ass over to his cube.

So we played Altered Beast and BEAT IT. Never done that before! Awesome! Sick kick-off to what would become a dope weekend.

Mind you, this was after I declined a ticket to the Detroit Tigers opening day game.

After crushing Altered Beast, it was a mad dash home to hit happy hour with Heckyeahwoman. Or maybe it was supposed to be get loaded at happy hour then hit Heckyeahwoman. Whatever, we did the former.

It was funny, at the bar, I was describing the video game to Heckyeahwoman, and mid-description, the bartender inquires, "are you talking about Altered Beast?". Homeboy gets it.

Went to the bar to get crunk, got crunk, stopped at the organic hippie commune grocer to get some wasabi dried peas, then headed home to plan our dinner. After arguing and fighting and almost trading blows, we both said in agreement, "fuck it, let's get pizza".

So we got pizza. Waiting for the pizza, one of us had the extraordinary idea to GET MORE BOOZE! The Heckyeahs booked it down to the corner liquor store and bought the cheapest tequila and the cheapest whiskey. No kidding!

Pizza came, pizza got crushed, and after the fact, we realized we didn't get the discount that the coupon told us we would. Take note, kids, the coupon theme is going to be prevelant throughout the entire weekend, and there was maybe only a purchase or two where we didn't have coupons! Heck yeah!

Due to the pizza coma we were both suffering from/enjoying, we nixed plans to go out, in favor of watching a movie.

Meanwhile, like a week ago, Heckyeahwoman snuck a girlie movie onto our Netflix queueueueue - Revolutionary Road.

So that's what we watched. And yeah, there might be spoilers. With that said, let's talk about Revolutionary Road. If you don't know, it has Kate Winslet (winSLUT?) teaming up once again with Leonardo DiCaprio (DiCRAPrio?).


Remember what happened in Titanic? He died. Obviously they're taking turns because she dies this time around. Maybe next time we'll get lucky and they'll both die, like for real.

Anyway, the movie is about their marriage, and its gradual deterioration. They both have affairs, they both yell at each other, they both act unreasonably, they both hate their lives; it's really bad. Besides, why would I want to watch a movie about a marriage being destroyed, when I'm destroying my own marriage with booze and blogs? DUMB.

While the climax of the movie for most people is Kate Winslet's character dying, the climax for me was obviously the end credits rolling, signaling the end of that awful goddamn depressionfest. Had to immediately put RAMBO in before something terrible happened.

Seriously, the real climax of the film comes after she dies: they're at the hospital, the bad news gets delivered, tears are flowin', then all of a sudden the movie cuts to a shot of Leo sprinting up the road. Sprinting up Revolutionary Road, where they lived.

No shit: it's him, in his suit, running his ass off, no rhyme no reason, just a balls to the wall sprint. One of the best cases of unintentional hilarity possibly ever caught on film. Definitely let out a chuckle, much to HYW's chagrin.

I don't know about you, but when your wife dies, the wife that you just spent the last 5 years of your life hating, cheating on, yelling at, fighting with, going for a run would be the last thing on my mind. I'm thinkin': partyin', celebratin', bonin', boozin', druggin' and poundin'. But that's just me.

Couldn't find it on youtube, but this might be the scene:

I've said this before multiple times, when I watch a movie, I want a happy ending. I want a (positive) 90 minute escape from the mindnumbing bullshit that I live every day. I don't want to watch two people bicker, fight and relish in their own shitty shitdickery. It's almost kind of insulting: two rich, famous actors portray one miserable couple, and expect you to pay to watch their mocking portrayal of the family next door.

Is that what those fuckheads in Hollywood think of "middle America"? That we just wallow in our own shittiness? That since we can't be rich and famous, we automatically hate our jobs, spouses and kids? Well you know what, Hollywood...I don't hate my job, spouse and kids because you want me to. No, I hate them because I made a conscious, deliberate decision to hate them.

It's not art, it's not talent, it's not philosophical, it's not anything other than FUCKING BULLSHIT. Wow, end rant.

I know HYW is gonna read this: I don't hate you or my job, but I will probably hate my kids.


Friday, April 8, 2011

what have you done for me, mr president?

Some of you might remember my post "the last 8 years under bush", where I described my current situation, and realized that yeah, while Bush was an absolutely deplorable president, my life was pretty awesome. You bet it was.

Isn't it only fair to compare my life under Bush to my life under Obama? For the record, I think both are horrible presidents with virtually identical track records of huge spending, growing the government, alienating the middle class and MORE WAR. But hey, we only support war when our guy is doing it.

And even funnier are many that were (correctly) against Bush's wars in the Middle East, but when their homeboy starts a war in Libya, you know, the kind he said he was against, they utter not a peep. If you support a war, you might be a coward if you're not fighting in it.

Enough politics, let's talk about me. And my life. Each 2008 analysis will be followed by my 2011 update in bold.

Money. I've made like 15 times more money since he's been president. 2011 - the peak of my income was in 2008, and my income has gone down since. 2009 and 2010 were good, however I only worked about half of 2010 due to laziness, getting married, moving, looking for a job, vacationing and Obama. But the general trend of income declining is not good. Bush wins here.

Chicks. They started lining up once he (Bush) took office. That didn't last long, but still. 2011 - depends how you define "chicks". Like, I married a hot chick, and she's a doctor, and that's awesome. More awesome than banging a bunch of slores, right? You didn't read this here, but HECK yeah. Obama wins here.

Fun. I partied more, had more vacations, and had more fun than any other time in my life. 2011 - ooh, this is a close one. Under Obama I definitely haven't had as many awesome vacations (beaches in Florida, Texas, New Orleans, Michigan, Wisconsin) as I did under Bush (Hong Kong, China, Macau, Dominican Republic, Mexico, a lot of beaches in Florida). Also worth nothing, 2008 was the only time my brother and I were with our mother at a bar in China at like 3 in the morning, and she was drinking Jack Daniels mixed with green tea. Probably never happen again. But I did have an AWESOME honeymoon in Puerto Rico, one of my best vacations ever. As far as "fun", it's hard to trump my wedding, easily the funnest night of my life. And shit, in 2009 we did move downtown (in Gainesville) and were closer to the bars, but rent went up. Overall, gonna call this one a toss-up.

College. I graduated college during his tenure. That impresses people. 2011 - I did not graduate college under Obama's presidency, but god forbid if he wins another term, there's a good chance I will have gone on to more schooling. God forbid though. *Science forbid. Can't count your chickens before they hatch - Bush wins.

Dope rides. I have had one undeniably dope ride, and one questionably dope ride since 2k yo. 2011 - since Obama has been president, I've driven only the sickest, tinted, most murdered out ride. Obama, this whip's for you.

Debt. I paid off ALL my debt while Bush was presiding over the presidency. 2011 - I didn't have any debt to pay off, cause my boi W helped me take care of it ALL in 2008. But yo, I totally coulda paid some shit off if I needed to. Bush gets the nod here.

Work. Damn, I guess I do work a lot more now, since he took office. That kinda blows. 2011 - yeah, still working. Sucks bro. Gonna chalk this one up for Obama, because I don't think I've ever had a job where I drank this much beer in the office.

Snorting blow off a hooker's ass. I have yet to do this, but yo, I initially got the idea while you-know-who was president. 2011 - still haven't snorted any blow off any hookers asses. Come to think of it, I haven't even had any contact with any hookers since Obama became president. Note that we did see a shitload of hookers in China, in 2008, when Bush was president. Just remembered, I did go to a strip club last April for my Bachelor party, but strip clubs are dumb. This one goes to Bush.

Final tally, including one point each for the toss-up: Bush 5 Obama 4

Looks like Bush won the final tally. Sorry buddy, despite making my life better, you were still an epic FAILURE.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011


This HUMP DAY PUMP UP is brought to you by recent epic failures on my part. How is that going to PUMP YOU UP? I'm not entirely sure, but hopefully the chuckles taken at my expense can serve to PUMP YOU UP through the rest of this shitty week.

So picture this: it's Sunday, you're kind of hungover, don't feel like doing anything, but you need to get a workout in.

Only one thing you can do: pull up this sweet video on youtube and attempt to do 11 different pushup variations in 15 minutes.


OK, not miserably, but I managed to do the first ten sets of ten, in about twelve minutes. That shoulda put me on pace to crush it. BEING ON PACE TO POUND OUT THAT FINAL SET PUMP. And indeed I thought I was gonna crush it, I WAS PUMPED.

But for some reason I didn't even think that the last ten pushups would be of the ONE ARMED VARIETY! SHIT!

Yeah no, but I'm going to get those 110 goddamned pushups if it goddamn kills me. And I'm going to do it with a smile on my fabulous face.

After a brief rest, I'm back at it, in position to do these one-armed monsters. Ready, sweat dripping on the floor...ONE done. It wasn't pretty, but it was done. After another two minutes of dicking around trying to do one more, my time was up and I was spent.

SRSLY check out those dive-bomb pushups, I did 10, but it's tough being the most uncoordinated goofball ever. FAILPUMP NUMBER ONE.

Only redeeming thing is that I know YOU couldn't get any closer than I did. Or could you?

Not PUMPED reading about me doing pushups? Put the cheetos down and get some sexercise.

After that embarrassing exercise in futility/being just less than awesome, check out FAILPUMP NUMBER TWO, it's short and sweet:

Ke$ha came to Detroit, like 45 minutes from where I live, and I bitched out cause tickets were too expensive.

I keep watching this video and falling deeper and deeper into a SHAME SPIRAL UBER REVERSE PUMP.

True story, I declined to drop the couple hundy on tickets. Ke$ha, if you're reading this, we're coming in August when you hit Detroit again. Also, you wanna hook us up too? We'd by far be the oldest non-parents in attendance and would love a couple tickets. That's cool, right?



If CRAZY SHARKS with big goofy smiles do not PUMP YOU UP, then there's not a lot of hope for you as you. But if you find pleasure in reading about the two biggest failures of my life, with every painful detail outlined above, then I think we can help you out.

Monday, April 4, 2011

my boss keeps crying at work

Yeah so I really enjoy reading advice columns for some reason. I guess the fun part is reading ridiculous cries for help that are usually answered reasonably in less time than it takes for each person to meticulously word their trivial issues/pleas for help.

Many times, the advice-requester, he-or-she-who-seeks-the-advice, kind of pre-defends the query in the first sentence or two. You've heard them before, "I don't usually do this, but I'M GOING TO GIVE YOU A BLOW JOB ON THE CITY BUS"; or "I'm not racist, but here's a really funny joke about black people".

I don't know, those always generally just catch my attention and give me a light chuckle.

Check out the one below, where an employee has a boss who keeps crying at work. John Doe makes sure to mention that he respects his boss, BUT... she's an emotional wreck and he hates/whats to screw her.

Anyway, let's give John Doe some advice here:

I have a supervisor who knows her stuff, and I respect her judgment and guidance. My problem is that she's very emotional. When she gets upset at something that someone says—which happens constantly, and is usually over nothing—she talks about the person endlessly and vitriolically with her other friends in the office. Also, when she gets upset about a work-related issue, she cries—to me, in my office. For example, the other morning she came into my office, closed the door, and sobbed about what she thought was a snippy comment that someone made in a meeting. She will now hate this person with unbridled passion until a superficial conversation makes them friends again. I have no idea how to deal with this drama. My wife says that women are just different, and I should learn to accept it. I'm at a loss as to how to react.

—John Doe

That sounds like a dream sitchu to me, Mr. Doe. But first we're going to operate under the assumption that your boss is hot as fuck, DTF and doesn't know/care that you're married (c'mon she's female and I'm a huge misogynist).

Let me lay this out for you: your boss is showing you her vulnerable side, opening her heart to you. And as any dude should know, a woman's heart is a way to her chest is a way to her goodies is a way to blasting your boss on the regular.

John, yes, broads crying is always annoying; there's no getting around that. But don't think of it as a chore; think of it as an opportunity. Turn that frown upside down, as it were. Every time I make my wife cry, it's an opportunity - for me to again convince her that she shouldn't divorce me.

You see, a woman, especially one in a position of authority, that is comfortable enough to cry in front of you, is comfortable with you comforting her. Take the lead, be the man, show your boss your comforting side. And reap the benefits.

And when the boning fizzles out, start telling her to get lost. What's she gonna do, go to HR about her subordinate no longer putting it to her?

Now what if my assumptions about your bossing being hot and DTF were completely baseless? What then? Well, John you mentioned in your note that you were married; you should know how to say a camouflaged version of "shut the fuck up" to a woman.

At the very least, you could always bring your chainsaw to work, and give her something to "really fukken cry about".

Now the boring part: the actual expert's advice:

Dear John,
I have to disagree with two premises here: One is that your boss has good judgment; the other is that her behavior is to be expected from a female. She may have good technical knowledge and make sound business decisions. But to be a competent boss also requires managing both subordinates and one's own emotions. Instead, she incites feuds and draws everyone into her psychodrama. Unfortunately, she has designated you as her involuntary therapist. So you should have long-term and short-term treatment goals. Long term, you want to fire her as a patient. That is, you should be looking for opportunities inside and, if necessary, outside the company to escape from having her as a supervisor. You could also talk about her emotional volatility to human resources. Praise her good qualities, then specifically describe how her constant talking about "enemies" and weeping in the office is undermining productivity and morale. Short term, you want to stay dry and on her good side. So put a box of tissues on your desk, and when she bursts in, make noncommittal, empathetic-sounding statements, i.e., "I hear what you're saying," "I can see that was very upsetting." You could try to shape her behavior by helping her see that she's overreacting, i.e., "That's annoying, but Jack's brusque to everyone, so he probably didn't mean anything by it." If she bridles, stick to the anodyne remarks. The danger here is that you get so good at this that she orders a couch for you and comes in for 50-minute sessions. I know none of this is your actual job, but the better you are at managing her, the faster you will be able to attend to your real work.

—advice columnist


Friday, April 1, 2011

better not make my child wash his or her hands

So by now you've probably heard about the six year old girl with a severe peanut allergy where she might die. Oh you haven't? Well look here.

Or don't, and let me fill you in: Her allergy is so severe that SHE COULD DIE. So to keep PEANUT-RELATED INVOLUNTARY MANSLAUGHTER from happening, students must wash their hands when entering the classroom in the morning and after lunch, and rinse their mouths out, presumably with mouth wash.

The school even got a peanut sniffing dog.

Children being forced to wash their hands and use mouth wash, oh the horror. I'm not seeing how this is bad. Those kids would have probably never washed their hands in the first place. Even after using the bathroom. I was a kid once, and I never washed my hands. In fact, I often dipped my hands in mud puddles just to spite my parents. Sorry mom and dad!

Normally I'm not a fan of the state or the government telling you to do something, but shoot, if Barry W Hussein Bush III mandates me to wash my hands, who am I to argue with that? Luckily he's too busy starting wars and I'm too busy ALREADY WASHING MY HANDS AND USING MOUTHWASH HECK YEAH.

But here's the crazy thing: some parents are protesting the hassle of having to keep good hygiene.

Yeah yeah, they're protesting the "extreme" lengths their children have to go through, just for one sick, twisted, evil six year old girl stricken with a BRUTAL ALLERGY.

But still, not cool parents.

And I thought the animals protesting in Madison were crazy and horrible. Like OK, you think you know about politics, economics, unions, collective bargaining and shit, but you don't. And that's fine.

While you can find someone to support almost any side to any issue, surely you won't find anybody that actively promotes, or truly believes in, the eradication of good hygiene habits among children.

OK, that's not entirely true...

One concerned and rural parent, Chris Burr, shared his feelings: "If I had a daughter who had a problem, I would not ask everyone else to change their lives to fit my life".

Really, Chris Burr? Well aren't you just a fart in my bowl of soup now.

Because your children actually do have a problem: you. Are you against your inbred children washing their hands? Cause I'm not. If I were the superintendent of that school, I would single out your shitty little kids and MAKE THEM WASH THEIR HANDS UPWARDS OF 60 TIMES A DAY, IN FRONT OF THE ENTIRE SCHOOL, IN THE GYMNASIUM, DURING A PEP RALLY, WHILE THEY'RE CRYING AND BEGGING FOR HAND-WASHING MERCY.

All of the stupid ass parents of the students in that school should thank that little six year old for bestowing upon their children the natural wonder of washing your hands multiple times a day. Let's take it a step further, make those little shits BRUSH THEIR TEETH too.

What a bunch of ungrateful fuckers.