Monday, May 30, 2011
"More than 550 health professionals and organizations have signed a letter to McDonald's Corp. asking the maker of Happy Meals to stop marketing junk food to kids and retire Ronald McDonald."
They go on:
"The letter, slated to run in the form of full-page ads in six metropolitan newspapers around the country on Wednesday, acknowledges that "the contributors to today's (health) epidemic are manifold and a broad societal response is required. But marketing can no longer be ignored as a significant part of this massive problem."
And I bet you'll never guess who is to blame for parents letting their kids eat a churched up version of deep fried dog shit.
Take a guess - hint: (not the parents). That's right, marketing is to blame. Corporations are to blame. Everybody but the one not doing the fucking up is to blame.
It's not your fault for setting the fine example of living a sedentary lifestyle, as a parent. It's not your fault for letting your kids sit inside and play video games all day.
Listen, I hate kids, and I hate most people, but this is crazy.
Christ, I remember when I was a kid, my mom didn't even have to chase us out of the house to get exercise. Yeah, we played video games. But that was usually only when it was really rainy, or somebody got hurt playing TACKLE FOOTBALL. Or when we had a sweet rent two vids for the price of one coupon.
So you played tackle football with the neighborhood kids, you're a pussy; you probably just played all-time quarterback and stood there like a jerk.
Nah, not the case, tubbs.
It was in your best interest to run your ass off because if you didn't, you'd get tackled into the mailbox post that served as one of the goal lines, tackled up against the side of the house, tackled into the street (concussion time) or laid the ferk out by a skinny as shit ten year old HYM. Haha yeah, there was a time when I wasn't a CRUSHING 200 lbs what's up.
Oh you don't feel like playing football or baseball with the rest of us? That's cool, you'll just have 10 neighborhood kids calling you a pussy for the next 3 hours. Oh you're playing now? Great, now we have even teams.
Then we'd go to my Dad's house and spend 90% of the time outside playing basketball, baseball in the backyard, hunting, fishing and backbreaking labor in twelve hour blocks.
Nowadays, in the summer, I look outside and there are no kids dodging cars on their bikes, no kids playing baseball in the driveway and hitting home runs into neighbors' windows. Never do I hear the neighborhood grouchlady yelling from her front porch to 'GET THE FUCK OFF MY PROPERTY OR I'LL CALL THE COPS!"
None of that. All I hear is the click clack of my keyboard as I office my way to a slow, depressing suicide. But that's beside the point.
Starting with parents not being responsible for feeding their children, we're gonna slide all the way on down this slippery little slope here and get X-TREME! Are they responsible for not feeding them, like neglect? What about spanking, punishment and child abuse? Guess not, bros.
Sliding down past parental duties - what about when a child molester strikes? Is it some unnamed power (evil corporation) that put the child in harm's way in the first place? Maybe it's a clever ad campaign. Are you protected by the kid molester's union? Well are you?
We're gaining speed on this UBER-LUBER'cated slope, friends. Stab someone in the eye with a screwdriver? Blame Sears and Craftsman for marketing their sweet screwdrivers.
Torture somebody to a gory, bloody death? Blame the Saw movie franchise for making you think that torturing people is cool.
All I'm asking for is a little sanity here. I thought Jon Stewart and Stephen Colbert restored that back in September.
If it were me, I'd take out an ad and address all of the overweight, dickhead parents out there; here's what it might look like:
One last thing, let me just put this out there: if anybody tries to take away Dairy Queen, Culver's or Toppers, I will fucking **** you. I know I rarely eat at any of those places, but when I'm looking to treat myself after a long week of blasting chicks/zombies/dukes, or if I'm on a road trip, one of those three establishments nourishes not just my body, but my soul.
Last thing: I hate you so much.
Friday, May 27, 2011
Correction: OK, leering at women in public.
Addendum: watching broads head to the bathroom, then timing them and guessing if they're pooping or peeing.
Does anybody else find themselves doing this at the mall for hours on end? C'mon now, cop to it - you can comment anonymously so your wives will never know what a creeper you are.
Totally unrelated: right now I might be dead or dying from a whitewater rafting accident in the Rockies. And if that doesn't kill me there's a good chance I'll meet my demise from either hiking in the mountains or mountain biking in them. Surely if that doesn't get me, It will probably be the high altitude multiple speedballs combined with mass alcohol consumption while partying with my friends.
So yeah, enjoy these new blog posts while you can. Or don't enjoy them, whatever.
Wednesday, May 25, 2011
My first instinct was to PUNISH with FORCE.
Lucky for our tubby feline friend, HYW is a beacon of compassion. Shawtie puts my boi Cheesus to shame with that empathy shit.
Whenever I think of Meow Meow's unrepentant string of brutal urinations, I can't help but get all PUMPED UP WITH RAGE, but right after I grab the taser, ready to do her harm, she hits me with this:
An assault of cuteness. And that RAGE suddenly turns to an unnamed feeling of just less than rage.
Just enough to make me put the weapon down and stew in a nonviolent way.
So since I probably won't ever be lucky enough to be the true cause of Meow Meow's demise, I will let seeing other cats (and people) getting owned in awesome ways serve as my PUMP PROVIDER.
Get PUMPED AS YOU WATCH THIS VIDEO OF A KITTEN.
A KITTEN IN A TOPHAT.
BE PUMPED as the older gato dishes out ONE PUMPED UP KITTYSWAT!
TAKE THAT YOU ADORABLE LITTLE KITTEN YOU HAD IT COMING!
OK this has nothing to do with kittens, but it had alot to do with the basic misanthropic feelings I harbor. This is a new take on the classic "getting hit by a train" bit.
LOVE LOVE LOVE when people get hurt!
Appears we're getting away from the KITTENHATEPUMP here, that's fine cause what kinda weirdo hates kittens anyway? But this vid is more on the "kids doing dumb things and getting hurt" tip. Love it, PUMP it.
The blood is rushing and we've blown right past the semi into a full on RAGING BONER PUMP!
Extra bonus PUMP: I will be in Denver and Laramie, WY this week and early next, CHUGGING MOUNTAIN DEW, TAKING MOUNTAIN DEW SHOWERS AND DOING OTHER EXTREME THINGS IN THE MOUNTAINS, WITH LOTS OF MOUNTAIN DEW INVOLVED.
And when I'm not getting EXTREME, I'll be getting EXTREMELY LOADED. FYI
Monday, May 23, 2011
Speaking of horse, dude, I won two games. Yes, the least coordinated, most un-athletic goombah in the office managed to win multiple games of horse. I have no idea how it happens. Probably my good looks.
Anyway, went to happy hour at this brewery in town then headed to our friends' place for more partying. Had a good time, nothing crazy eventful.
Saturday, woke up sans hangover, sucked down some coffee and went for a great bike ride. Again, almost got eaten by geese.
Almost ran some little kid over.
Almost flew into the goddamn river too. No kidding, I was flying through this dirt trail on my bike and hit some loose sand or something. My front tire turned perpenDICKular to the rest of my bike; somehow it only skidded in the dirt - I threw my foot on the ground to get the front tire in the air so I could right it, and managed to not break my knee, not fly over my handlebars, not die, not fly into the river, and not do anything other than look like a novice cyclist.
By the time I got back, it was like 3:3oish and as we all know, that's getting dangerously close to the time of rapture. With that in mind, our friends ***** and ***** were having a little rapture party at their house.
It was nice; nobody got raptured; some people got really fucked up; and we all had a good time.
Then when it was time to order pizza, ***** just went and ordered the pizza. Didn't put on a stink, didn't ask for money, didn't give anybody the guilty-I-just-ordered-pizza-and-paid-for-it dirty look. Take note cheapskates, that's how it's done when you throw a party and order food.
You just order the pizza, pay for the pizza, then enjoy the pizza as everyone else does the same. Don't make a big production, don't guilt trip anybody, just get on with the party.
Got home, poured myself a nice tall glass of rum and ginger beer cause I thought Heckyeahwoman was still down to party. Turns out she was down to go to sleep. My bad.
So I just sucked back that big ass (wait, what?), delicious drink and enjoyed some late night paid programming. Ok, "enjoyed" is kind of a strong word. Maybe "tolerated" would be better. But I'm not a tolerant person, 'specially when it comes to matters of race, color, creed, gender and class. So maybe "casually watched" would be a more appropriate description of my post-rapture party television viewing experience.
Ooohh, I almost forgot, the worst part of Saturday (besides the lack of rapture) - our soon to be deceased, overweight, PIECE OF FUCKING SHIT CAT peed, no PISSED, all over my bag of clothes needing to be drycleaned AND my gym bag.
This is the second time she's pissed on my gym bag. I know right. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, you fucking bleed.
Not sure if you know, but cat pee is notoriously impossible to get out of almost everything. The putridity just lingers. My wife somehow finds this acceptable and not punishable by immediate cat-execution by CRUSHING. Unbelievable because HYW has even fallen victim to a spate of malicious cat-pissings.
I will have no remorse for that goddamned cat as I'm squeezing the last bit of life out of her. Thing is, she's just really goddamned cute, and her cries are heartbreaking. It's going to be tough. Never forget, never forgive. Stay strong.
I'm so pissed and worked up right now that I can't even type out the rest of my weekend. Let's hope that HUMP DAY PUMP UP finds me in better spirits.
Friday, May 20, 2011
Having lived in college towns for the last 6 years of my life, I'm no stranger to various college sporting team posters and calenders adorning the walls of many local businesses.
Usually I just scan the women's volleyball, softball or basketball posters for any hot chicks, then get on with my day. Usually I don't come across collegiate sports posters as insane the one immediately below:
Look at those GAME FACES. Oh man, those guys are AMPED on something! Being that it is a tennis poster, one would have to assume that they are making those faces because they're so AMPED on tennis.
But I don't know.
Starting with the dude at the top, it doesn't look like Ichiro Suzuki up there is AMPED solely on tennis. Actually, from the looks of things, he's anything but AMPED. My guess is that he's holding in a massive number two, while suffering from a serious hemorrhoid and swatting wildly at anything that comes his way, John McEnroe style.
And what about Mr. Fratty McRapesAlot? He's definitely AMPED on something. But what? I'm thinking he just got a notification on his Blackberry about all the tang he's gonna blast tonight. That's right our homeboy here, who looks like a cross between Quasimodo and Tom Brady is so AMPED about all that poon on his mind. Oh yeah, and he just remembered that mom & dad just bought him a used 2008 Acura. Score!
Last but not least, we have the token black dude. Aside from Serena and Venus Williams, I don't think I've ever come across black dudes playing tennis. But that's what they said about golf, and then Tiger Woods magically appeared. Either way, judging from that pic, he doesn't look well. In fact, it looks like he's about to blow some serious chunks. Serious chunkz. Serious chunkage.
But seriously, what unflattering faces for each of those young men to have on display. Like, did each dude approve their respective picture? Or was the coach just like, "heh, use these shitty pictures for those spoiled, silver-spoon schmucks".
All your base are belong to us
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Look at that cover art!
For real though, just hear me out here right here.
Now what's that you say? Better than anything Strung Out ever did?!?! Screeching Weasel? Nirvana? Smashing PUMPkins? The Chronic? Oasis lol!
OK, I'm not sold that it's the best album of that particularly awesome decade of music, but it is a FUCKING AWESOME ALBUM. There isn't a stinker in the bunch, and even their stupid joke death metal song, "Corpse Rotting in Hell" is awesome.
Maybe it's the dog barking vocals that make that song, and album, so awesome.
Or it could be the ridiculous drum solo in the last song.
You know I bet it's the absolutely insane lyrics to Lipstick (video below!) that put it over the top.
The more I think about it, it's the overall anti-PC sentiment found in practically every song.
Like the fact that I haven't heard the word "fag" used that much in a modern punk rock album since, well, ever. Now don't get me wrong, saying "fag" isn't cool at all, what is cool, and what PUMPS ME UP is the fact that Guttermouth doesn't give a shit.
Get PUMPED as Guttermouth sings about how HORRIBLE ROLLERBLADERS ARE. C'mon, FUCK ROLLERBLADERS FOR REAL!
In fact, Guttermouth got kicked off of Warped Tour in 2004 because of overweight CRYBABIES who don't know what punk rock is. Apparently some losers got pissed because Guttermouth were UNPUMPING UP the idiots in the crowd by jokingly wearing shirts in support of George Bush.
Haha, they were also 'verbally abusing' other bands on stage lol.
TALKING SHIT TO PC TWINKS WITH REALLY SHITTY HAIRCUTS IS A GUARANTEED PUMPER UPPER!
Lol @ 30+ year old dipshit actually getting angry about another 30+ year old dipshit joking about politics to a bunch of 15 year olds.
Don't let the cluelessness of some idiots detract from the PUMP that Guttermouth is capable of sharing unto you. Into you. The band's name is GUTTERMOUTH for CHRIST'S SAKE! I hope you're not expecting lyrics full of clever riddles, ponderings on the meaning of life or research-backed rants on biophysics!
Don't believe me? Check out the POETIC PONTIFICATION PUMPS lead singer Mark Adkins verbalizes in his nasally, off-key style - about his own mother! One man's degenerate lyrics are another man's PUMP!
OK, so I realize that there really hasn't been much argument for why I feel this is the best album of the 90's; I give up. Really I'm much too concerned with GETTING PUMPED UP FOR THE REST OF THE WEEK than I am with proving a point that you don't really give a shit about anyway.
And that's OK.
Just so long as we're clear. And PUMPED.
What's better than pissing off 15 year old 30 year olds? Ripping on vegans, of course!
When's the last time you heard one man's narrative of his exploits in trying to nail a vegan skank done in a catchy 90's skatepunk style? Probably never!
Truth is, I have a couple other Guttermouth albums, but this is the only one I keep coming back to on the regular.
Interesting PUMPY side note: yesterday at work one dude brought in this portable espresso-making contraption. 45 minutes and three dudes later, we had about two point five shots of espresso.
And a BIG ASS MESS on the counters. But I was so PUMPED from that shot that I was uncontrollable and immediately bodyslammed the little greek shitsicle that I work with.
And dude, you can't talk about Musical Monkey without even mentioning the following song. Bad taste FTW! GET PUMPED!
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Turns out blogger was unavailable for most of Thursday and part of Friday, so I'll just be a cheap dick and post what I had typed and saved in Microsoft Word from Thursday night. Anyway, let's not let Blogger's technical difficulties take away from me being so pissed at the situation.
Obviously the only thing for me to do was cruise youtube for awesome videos.
Think it’s too early in the week to get PUMPED?
Thank you, The Promise! I couldn’t have crushed those hills on my bike on Thursday night without you screaming these songs in my ear! Preesh!
That said, I also couldn’t have made such a narrow escape with my life from those three geese chasing me. No kidding, I was on the trail and there were a gaggle of geese watching over an even bigger gaggle of their duckling baby geese fuzzballs. Little yellow guys.
They were really goddamn cute. Like kitten-cute. Like any baby I take part in creating will never be that cute…OK the heckyeahwoman half will be, but you get the drift.
So this gaggle of geese was just hanging out ON the trail and I’m trying to get through, but the big ones were CHASING and HISSING AT me. One even took a swipe at my leg.
Good thing I was cruising at optimal bike cruising speed. Also good thing my thigh is 100% pure invincible muscle.
After dodging death-by-goose, I had to stop and check out the ducklings.
I pulled over in the grass, put my bike up against a picnic table and chilled for a minute. But something strange was afoot: there was dogshit everywhere.
Like EVERYWHERE. Old, fresh, green, crusty, piles, drops, drippings, brown, ant covered.
After a minute of goose-watching, I got back on my bike only to have my foot slip off the pedal. Awesome, dog shit all over the bottom of my shoe and on my pedal. Really lubed up my foot's grip on the pedal.
So I stuck my foot in the river, washed it off, and busted my ass home to eat some of that insane homemade pizza HYM made. Seriously, insane: caprese pizza. WHAT!?!?
Yeah, fresh mozzarella from the Krog, fresh tomatoes from the garden (haha, actually from the Krog), BASIL from xTHExGARDENx and balsamic vinaigrette-soaked onions.
Great bike ride, almost got eaten alive by a goose, and yeah, I’m still sweating.
Ok and because you kindly played along with my recycled post that was supposed to be made public last Friday, I'll give you a little recap of my weekend:
IT PRETTY MUCH FUCKING SUCKED.
In fact, it "pretty much fucking sucked" to the point where I don't think my weekend was good enough to warrant me going in to work on Monday. There isn't really any defining point of shittiness of the weekend to point out, other than the weather was crappy and I wanted to go on bike rides both days, but the shitty weather prevented that.
Oh yeah, there was one low point, I remember, we went out for dinner to a fancy restaurant, Cafe Felix for all you Ace Deuce MFers out there, and it was a 100% SHITTY experience.
The food was crappy - my steak was delicious, but HYW's lobster pasta was blander than most boring people I know. It was like the food version of the movie The Hours. BORING!
But the real bummer was the service. Despite the fact that Jason Segal was nomming at the same restaurant, the service was embarrassingly bad. Like, the server was a dipshit, and there's a fine line between crappy service and straight up special needs, but yo, this box ("Cassandra") was F'd in the H (fucked in the head).
I mean, after our meal, obviously I smashed her face on the bar, HYW said what really summed up the experience: "at least it wasn't our anniversary dinner". Lol, true story, HYW.
On Wednesday, I'm going to make an argument for what I think is the best album of the 90s. And it's going to PUMP you UP.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Meanwhile, there is a suspicious package (not mine) that was found in downtown Ann Arbor that has closed down a couple streets and has the entire city paralyzed in fear.
In other news, my long lunch was cut short by the fact that I had an appointment at two. I hate when work gets in the way of me eating ice cream or having another beer. I also hate when closed down streets downtown means more traffic congestion.
I also hate that dumb bitch that was driving the Honda CR-V that didn't even look before she pulled out of the driveway and almost t-boned me. Bitch, I'll do the t-boning (and boning) around here, slore.
Wednesday, May 11, 2011
The remix album is awesome. And not only is it awesome, but it did just the trick in getting the HYMs all kinds of PUMPED UP on not just Saturday afternoon, but well into Saturday night and maybe even a little into Sunday morning.
Some of the remixes push the five minute mark, and if you're a fan of Ke$ha, you'll probably notice that most of her songs hover right around the typical length of three to three and a half minutes. Long story short, that duration can make each song seem like a marathon at times, what with the INSANE & GRATUITOUS TECHNO BEATS.
But don't worry, AIN'T NOTHIN' TO LOSE MY PUMP OVER, YA SMELL ME.
So chalk one up for the PUMPED with that album purchase.
Keeping the PUMP, we got home, worked out, showered, stretched out and then I may or may not have fallen asleep on the couch while HYW ran an errand or two.
And she may or may not have startled me when she got back.
JUMPING UP FROM THE COUCH TO GRAB A COLD ONE (, DAWG), I said, "FUCK IT YOU CAN'T STOP ME", grabbed a beer, tossed one at HYW and we both knew what we had to do:
GET CREEPIN' TO THE BAR. CAUSE YO, IT WAS "GET-CRUNK-O'CLOCK".
Having decided to hit the undergrad part of town, we weren't quite sure what to expect.
You ever been the oldest person at the bar? That's what we were when we went to Good Time Charlie's for dinner and drinks. Then I got up to go potty and saw some kid chillin' in the stall, just standing there.
Right after I pull up to the urinal and unsheath my fleshy MACK TRUCK from which I would spill some urine, I hear dude start YAKKKKKIN' lol.
It sounded like this, but MUCH LESS PUMPY AND AWESOME:
OK, it was pretty awesome. Some little shit puking his guts out in the bathroom stall, then coming back to his table like nothing happened. Nice try brodude, I seen it!
Eh, coulda been me 10 years ago. Yeah, 10 minutes.
Lucky for us the Boston Celtics - Miami Heat playoff game was about to start, and I tell you, nothing PUMPS ME UP MORE than seeing BOSTON SPORTS PLAYERS GET HIDEOUSLY INJURED:
OK, I'd rather see that happen to Boston sports fans, but still, look at that dudes elbow!
In truly UNPUMPY fashion, the Celtics overcame the injury to win the game. And in truly PUMPY fashion, I overcame inebriation to say a couple unsavory things too loud at the bar.
Dude, both the bars we went to were totally FRATTED OUT. For real.
Pink collared shirts
American Eagle gear, Hollister gear, Abercrombie gear
Bitches in not a lotta clothes
Dudes plottin' to roofie chicks later
Various types of "bomb" shots
Sunglasses at night
Kids "chillin'" at the bar
Motherfuckers looking at me funny, about one eyeballing away from getting MASHED LIKE POTATOES
Music I had never heard of before with loud bass and it was giving me a headache
Fashion trends I didn't even know existed
It was awesome, we got tore up, then the hottest chick in the bar took me home and all I could do was pass out on the couch.
NON STOP PUMP ALL DAY ERRY DAY
Totally unrelated BE GLAD IT'S NOT YOU PUMP:
Monday, May 9, 2011
Whatever, who is gonna be mad at a little weekend wrap-up action?
Another insane weekend on the books.
Friday night there was some Midnight Delight madness going on downtown where some shops stay open late. Lol, that's it. So we celebrated by stopping at this awesome store owned by our friends. They were just closing up, the party was just ending, but that didn't stop Heckyeahwoman and I from unleashing a tour de force of forced discounts, yelling and haggling until we got "the goddamned prices" that we "goddamned deserve".
I don't know, HYW bought some cool-looking, earth-friendly jewelry while one of the owners, ****, and I joked around. Yeah, I know business owners. Real entrepreneurs. Who do you know? 'Zactly.
Almost forgot, before shopping we had a very forgettable dinner at Ashley's. Great beer selection, decent service, very mediocre food. Prior to that I did a little record shopping at this stupid fucking shitty record store that has absolutely nothing I want to buy, ever. Probably been there 4 times, and each time it was GODDAMN impossible to FORCE myself to buy something I don't even really want. WTF.
And lol, they have every shitty hipster indie rock album flavor of the month, but not one GODDAMN death metal album from Gorgasm, Hate Eternal or Jungle Rot. Every time I go there with high hopes, the hopes get dashed, I get pissed and find myself shaking, holding a No Age record in my hands ready to fucking snap it in half.
And every time, Heckyeahwoman talks me out of my rage. Oh man if she wasn't around, I'd totally be the new owner of a cracked-in-half No Age record lol.
Got home, partied, watched No Reservations with Catherine Zeta-Jones and Aaron Eckhart, and that movie deserves a post of it's own. But more on that later...maybe.
So that was Friday night, told in a roundabout fashion.
Woke up Saturday morning REFRESHED AS FERK and ready to rock. Good thing, cause we got our coffee on, our eat on, I got my explosive 'rhea on and we were o u t t h e d o o r ready to shopppppp.
HYW had coupons for Kohl's, Macy's, and JC Penneys.
It was literally a blinding display of deal-raping. My wife put on a clinic. I've never seen so much shit acquired for so little.
First stop: Macy's. HYW wanted a bigger food processor and she had the coupons to make it happen. So I let her do her thing as I trolled the mall. 45 mins later, HYW appears with a mischievous smile on her face: not only did she snag a sweet food processor, but she got a dutch oven. You bet she did.
And she got a wooden spoon. Not sure why she felt the need to add a wooden spoon to our collection, but whatever, IT'S A WOODEN SPOON.
For some reason JC Penney's keeps sending us these $10-OFF coupons for a purchase of $10 or more. It doesn't make me any more likely to shop at Penney's without a coupon...cause I know next week they'll probably send me one. Or two.
Worth noting, this is the first time I've EVER been to Penney's and the Levi's Jeans were NOT on sale. First time ever, unbelievable. While I'm not totally in the market for a new pair of jeans, I'm still in the market for a new pair of jeans, if you know what I mean. So instead I bought two (2) Stafford Essentials basic t-shirts, priced to move at $6.99 each. Plus coupon, I paid about $4.23 for two shirts, eat shit.
Don't really though.
Last stop, Kohl's. Oddly I was shopped out, so I browsed the jeans, then walked down to Best Buy. With a confidence never really displayed before, I headed right to the CD section, found Ke$ha's new remix cd, and held it in my hands.
Just held it...with intent to purchase.
On the way to the checkout, ur boi got sidetracked by the music section, so I stopped in and pounded on some e-drum kits for twenty minutes. It's funny, I have my entry-level Yamaha e-kit, and I like the feel of that better than the newer, five-times-as-expensive kits that I tried.
Finally got the text message from HYW that she was done, so we met up in front of Kohls, and on the walk to the car, after spying the Ke$ha remix album I had just procured, she commented: "I did pretty well myself!"
Yeah you did Heckyeahwoman, yeah you did.
Kudos need to be givin' to HYW for trying, though unsuccessfully, to get me to stop for a beer after we were done shopping. Had to refuse, bros, needed to get my exercise on.
Just another in a long line of fantastic Saturdays.
Hate to do this, but I'm gettin' ready to party, and I still need material for HUMP DAY'S PUMP UP - so we're gonna leave the shenanigans of Saturday night for HUMP DAY - TO PUMP YOU UP.
CLUE: The old married couple went barhopping in the undergrad part of town, with PUMPED UP RESULTS!
Friday, May 6, 2011
It's part of the job requirements.
In order to obtain full-time employment at the HYM offices, you must comply with our strict birther guidelines. In addition, to maintain employment at HYM Enterprises, you must continually be recertified as a birther. You need BIRTHER RECERTIFICATION ON THE REGULAR.
You see, a birther isn't just some made-up term by the left-wing media to take attention off the current administration's policies and failures; nah, it's a lifestyle. We're living the birther lifestyle.
So what exactly does it take to be a birther at HYM LLC?
Let me lay it out for you:
To qualify as a birther at HYM Industries, you've gotta give birth. And when I say "give birth", most people immediately think of the miracle of life, babies, and bringing a child into this world. We're talkin' about bringing something into this world alright.
But the kind of birth we're giving is completely devoid of life, and in fact often times takes a life in its sickening quest to see daylight. I'm talking about unleashing a turd so vile, so putrid that you literally puke all over what just came out of your butt. A bastard bowel movement so wretched and revolting, as it stews, throbs and pulses there in the human coffee, you question whether it might be some depraved demonspawn, actually clinging to what little life it managed to siphon from you on its way out.
That black, brown, kinda bloody clump of turdshit is now the highlight of your life. Congratulations, you are now officially a birther for life.
So yeah, the next time someone asks you if you're a birther, you tell 'em, "shit yeah I'm a birther, I just birthed a MONSTER a couple hours ago".
Then whip out your sweet camera phone and prove it.
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
We'll kind of just glaze over the guitarist, who may or may not be dead - he just looks that way...but he's got a PUMPLOAD of AWESOME RIFFS.
Bottom line, if you can't get PUMPED UP by the band's ode to snorting MOUNTAINS OF COCAINE, first thing in the morning, we got a problem. Yeah sure, they don't ever really mention MOUNTAINS OF COCAINE, but how else you gonna KICKSTART YOUR HEART? With a HUMP DAY PUMP UP? That'll only take you so far, you need the MOUNTAINS OF COCAINE to really push you over the edge of PUMP.
Lucky for us, Motley Crue understands that, and wrote this song in lieu of HUMP DAY PUMP UP. And you know what else? Their guitarist, Mick Mars ruled the Telecaster before your favorite bearded, shitty, skinny jeans band even thought about PBR tall boys.
Kickstart My Heart is the original HUMP DAY PUMP UP tune. I would crank this tune to get PUMPED for workouts back before working out was even invented. WRAP YOUR PUMPED LITTLE HEAD AROUND THAT.
A mere mortal would end the HDPU right there, cause the intro to the song is more than sufficient with regards to your once-weekly PUMP needs.
BUT WE'RE NOT MERE MORTALS HERE.
This next cut from Dr. Feelgood was ALSO actually created for the sole purpose of PUMPING YOU UP!
Don't believe me? Check out HOW PUMPED the dudes are at :50, :52 and especially the mullet'd bro in the white tank top at 1:02.
That's why they call it the FIST PUMP.
Not PUMPED? R YA DUMB!?!?
Look at what the drummer is wearing! Still not PUMPED? I don't blame you: total drummer-in-just-his-underwear-and-suspenders-UNPUMP!
And you know we're saving the 3rd best song on the album for last, that's right PUMP-NEEDERS, here's Dr. Feelgood. Please note this song was not named after my wife.
Man, even in the prime of their career, the guitarist still looked like he was close to dying. Sickly old man looking like death BUT STILL SHREDDING THE SHIT OUT OF HIS AXE PUMP.
THAT'S WHAT GETTING TOO PUMPED ABOUT SHITLOADS OF DRUGS'LL DO 2 YA! GOOD THING THE ONLY THING WE'RE GETTING TOO PUMPED ABOUT IS GETTING PUMPED UP TO CRUSH THIS WEEK LIKE A TRIPLE ORDER OF TOPPERS!
OK and this song is awesome too. It's called She Goes Down, and it doesn't get much PUMPIER THAN THAT!
In case you haven't heard, Osama bin Laden got killed and that should probably figure into your HUMP DAY PUMP UP plans. Nothing PUMPS US UP like people getting shot in the eye!
ONE MORE PUMP: WE ARE IN THE PROCESS OF SEARCHING FOR A VENDOR FOR HECK YEAH, MAN SHIRTS - PEEP THE POLL (POLE) TO THE LEFT AND VOTE WHETHER OR NOT YOU'D BUY A SHIRT.
DO IT DO IT DO IT GET PUMPED
Monday, May 2, 2011
For those not in the know, a decent weekend for me is exercising hard as hell both days, then eating so badly that any exercise I managed to get is more than NEGATED. OK, and any healthy eating or exercise during the week is also negated. Net loss FTW!
Not sure what happened Friday night cause I didn't get THAT tore up, but my hangover on Saturday morning told me otherwise. So we decided to stay in Saturday night...and watch a couple movies.
Heckyeahwoman gave me a couple movies she wanted to see, so at the local Redbox, I snagged 127 hours, one of the movies she allowed me to rent, and then at checkout, Redbox kindly offered me another movie for fifty cents! I'd be a fool to pass up on those kind of savings!
Fifty percent off, for a savings of a total of fifty cents! Life is good!
That deep discount allowed me to snag the other movie HYW suggested I rent: Love and Other Drugs. Eh, you win some, you lose some.
We first watched 127 hours (seemed that long at parts) and I may or may not review that later, but here's the gist (mild spoiler alert): Outdoorsy dude goes out and does outdoorsy things, something crappy happens, he SAWS HIS OWN ARM OFF and lives to tell about it. Decent movie, I wasn't too PUMPED, but it was mildly better than expected.
Next up: Love and Other Drugs. Oh you don't remember that one? It was out just a couple months ago, and not surprisingly, came and went with little fanfare. Check the trailer:
It should be noted that I like Anne Hathaway; she's hot, and well that's about it. I can't think of any role she's had that I really liked, this one included. Also, she's not shy about showing her boobs.
So basically Jake Gyllenhaal is a pharmaceutical drug rep, meets Ms. Hathaway, who is sick and a seriously delusional headcase. Jake pursues her, despite her repeated attempts to push him away, keeps trying to win her affections.
The movie is about as predictable as it gets, and Anne's character is so over the top, you'd be hard pressed to find not only a real chick as crazy as she is, a hot chick that crazy, but also a reasonably handsome and rich dude wasting his time chasing after a nutcase like her. Hot chicks are one thing, but if they're that crazy, and push away that hard, you gotta draw the line somewhere.
Also, in some scenes, Jake's deltoids are insanely ripped while the rest of his body is only moderately buff. He isn't that bulked up, but a few shots showed his delts just jacked while the rest of his arms were average. Very strange.
In true RomCom style, he gets the girl in the end. Also in true RomCom style, there is plenty of unintentional hilarity.
Probably the pinnacle of unintentional hilarity happens when Anne is at home drinking vodka, in one of her "moods", Jake gets there, sees she's not right, inquires about her (mental) spirits and offers up a, "thanks for offering", referring to the stiff drink she just poured herself...and not him.
This sets her off as she chases him out the door, slams her drink and while pouring another, she drops the glass and it crashes to the floor. Letting out a primal scream, she sets the stage for a meltdown, and melt down she does. As the camera cuts to Jake exiting through the hallway, her howls, screams and sobs tug on his heart strings. I was tuggin' on something else.
Absolutely insane, I wish I could have found a video of it - very similar to the unintentional hilarity in Revolutionary Road
It's literally about an hour of that kind of back and forth between the two: Jake tries to care, she freaks out, and on and on. The only breathing room you get are a couple boobs and some dumbed down unhilariousness from Jake's millionaire deadbeat brother.
Am I glad I watched it? Well kinda: I knew it would suck, and now I don't have to dread watching it in the future.
Totally unrelated, but equally as hilarious: AnnArbor.com wants to know: how are you celebrating Asian Pacific American Heritage Month? How the fuck do you think I'm celebrating? By getting piss drunk off Coronas and Margaritas celebrating Cinco de Mayo on Thursday! Fuck you, diversity!