There are several words and phrases that have been chewing at my sanity for as long as I can remember. Rather than suffer in silence alone, I have decided to share them with you, dear reader... not because I'm trying to change the world, but because misery loves company.
While reading the following examples of said words and phrases, ask yourself if they truly make sense. If you answer "no", you're one smart cookie - and you are invited to boycott each and every one of them with me.
*Spoiler alert: If you answer "yes", you're an idiot.
1. "Fuck the shit out of her"
Here is a common bar phrase uttered by Mr. Alpha Male to his pack while out on the town. He sees a hot girl and tells his boys he'd like to "fuck the shit out of her". Really? You want to perform coitus at a rate vigorous enough to cause the female to defecate? If I were you, Mr. Alpha Male, I think I'd rather "fuck the shit up inside her so that she never craps again." After all, a girl that puts out and never craps is totally the marrying type. Think about it.
If you don't know what it means, don't use this word in a sentence... PLEASE?? I heard a woman say, "That driver was going so fast! He was literally flying down the road." No he wasn't. He doesn't have wings and he was not soaring above the road, suspended in mid-air. How many times does a person need to say "I was literally scared to death" before someone replies with "Impossible, asshole, unless you were dead when you just said that..." ?!?
Here's the proper use of "literally": You literally don't have a clue about how to use the word "literally". I'd like to beat the shit out of every person who uses the word "literally" when they are speaking figuratively... literally.
3. "Who gives a crap?"
Has anyone ever given you a crap? I've received a crappy gift, a crappy haircut and crappy advice, but no one has ever given an actual crap to ME. Clearly, people don't give craps out as freely as some would have us think.
4. "Balls out/Balls To The Wall"
This phrase seemingly indicates a point in time when someone is making an extra special effort to get a task completed. Personally, if I had balls, I'd prefer to go "balls covered." In fact, if you are performing something so risky that it mandates the implication of a "balls out" type effort, it would be best if you protected the boy berries by keeping them safe under guard. Am I really to believe that there are men who smash their testicles into a random walls when they get "in the zone"?
5. "At the end of the day"
It seems that things only get settled "at the end of the day", especially for those involved somehow in sales and/or marketing. Why has "first thing in the morning" been cut out of our lives? Are things automatically summed up at midnight? The next time someone in your office says, "Well, at the end of the day, it's all about client relations", I encourage you to respond with, "What's it all about at the beginning and in the middle of the day, fuck-face?" (Note: also see such worthless sales/marketing rhetoric as "it is what it is" and "when all is said and done".)
6. "Taking candy from a baby"
Even if you have the parenting skills of John Phillips, you know babies don't eat candy. Wouldn't a more accurate phrase be "As easy as taking candy from a second-grader"?
Freedom of speech is something I'll always support, but irregardless... I'd rather eat Courtney Love's arm scabs than ever hear any of those things spoken aloud again. EVER. I know, I know... who gives a crap?
In the midst of Charlie Sheen's recent meltdown, I've decided to weigh in with my own opinion on drug use. It occurs to me that many folks out there are perfectly capable of controlling themselves during an extended period of drug-induced debauchery. Take Keith Richards, for instance. He's been in a chemical fueled haze since about 1965, but you never hear about him running into the street naked, brandishing a firearm, and threatening to eat Portugal unless somebody removes the spiders from inside his kidneys. Courtney Love is a different story altogether. She pops a Xanax at 5:00 and by 5:30, she's being led away in cuffs.
I get the feeling that most of you are probably too baked right now to have comprehended that example, not that I blame you. So as a public service to stoners, trippers and tweakers everywhere, I'll give some additional scenarios. If any of the following reminds you of your OWN behavior, please cease and desist any and all drug use (no... you don't have to want to do it for YOU, like the rehabbers say because the ENTIRE REST OF THE PLANET wants you to do it for THEM, and that's close enough) and add your name & photo to the comment section of this post so I can easily spot and shun you when you crash my next party.
Hey hey, this party is off the chain! Unfortunately, you'll never know because you've decided to hit the three foot bong and go sit under the trampoline in the backyard and "groove." This would normally be fine, but you've also decided to bring a guitar with you and clumsily strum through Wish You Were Here, making sure you really emphasize the "two lost souls swimmin' in a fish bowl..." part. Again, this is borderline excusable, but you've played it five times now and nobody is interested in "singing along," and they still won't be interested, even though you keep singing it louder and louder. Why can't you be like the rest of the stoners here? They seem to be perfectly happy just sticking their heads in a bucket of ice cream and BBQ sauce and listening to "Car Talk" on NPR. Are you still trying to get laid? Is that what the problem is? Oh, Christ. Are you actually playing More Than Words? You just hang tight, toots... I'm gonna go throw up.
Whoa! There you are...yeah. I see you. Okay, get out of my face. You keep sniffing, and rubbing your nose. No, I think it's very cool that you managed to get a hold of some "yayo," and I get that that is what's happening and you can now stop manufacturing this persona in which you behave as if you're on coke even though you are on coke but just to make sure I know you're on coke you keep doing that thing like Leonardo DiCaprio's retarded character in What's Eating Gilbert Grape? Yes, I do think your breath smells like cocaine. Is that because you're on cocaine? What a surprise! Well, yes, I'd love some. Does that mean I have to pretend to like you for the rest of this party, though? It does, doesn't it? You're going to follow me around all night bitching about "the drip," regardless, aren't you? Shit. Oh, we're having a serious talk now? You'll never live up to your father? Go buy another 8-ball at the strip club and get in line, Tony Montana.
And there you are miss thang--no I haven't missed being out of touch for the past three years, but you seem pretty fucked up. I like it how you keep touching me and my hair, though. No, wait. Now you're touching another person. Now you're touching a wall. Now you're licking the side of my beer bottle. Oh, toots. You've done some E, haven't you? Yes, I see, you've got the whistle and the glo-sticks and everything... I should have known. Yes, I do love kittens. Yes, they are magical. Okay, I'm going to be honest, you're weirding me out there when you wave those glo-sticks in my face. And there goes the whistle - that's soothing, toots. Look... that's really loud. Yes, even louder when you blow it right in my fucking ear. Yeah, fine - let's make out in front of this crowd of horny men.
Helllloooo, "that guy". We were having such a nice time just now, until you decided that it would be a good idea to "snap" and crawl into the dumpster and cry about how you are a "fraud" and "living a lie." This just dawned on you? We're all a bunch of goddamn frauds and now we're supposed to get you out of that thing? No, I don't think chopping your penis off is the answer here. I feel sorry for you, but now is not the time to work out your "issues." I've got an idea: How about you hang out in that dumpster and cry while the rest of us slink off and pretend this weird episode of yours didn't happen. Oh, now you're happy and want to "hug" and frolic amongst the trees and "nature?" Shit, I liked you better when you were stuck in the dumpster crying, deliberating over whether or not to swallow your tongue. And for your files, that thing you're caressing isn't, as you claim, the Virgin Mary...it's an old toilet.
Nice meth-mouth, toots. Nah, I don't think teeth are that important, either. I know I know, you feel totally sexy don't you? Well, unfortunately, your face looks like an anus with two eyes glued to it... not so sexy, pal. What's that you say? No, I disagree. I think it WILL hurt if you punch a hole in your driver's side window. See...told you so.
After realizing that what's-his-face made a HUGE fortune after writing the book “He’s Just Not That Into You” (where the author crushes womens’ dreams by telling them their fuck buddies will never marry them), I have decided to capitalize and write a little notice for all you confused and hurt men. The following are the signs that you should look for in your relationships to find out if she really can't fucking stand you. So don’t spend another night crying yourself to sleep, fellas. Stop whining your buddy’s ear off over dollar drafts at the local watering hole about what she’s thinking and whether or not she truly loves you. Just fucking stop. You look like a pussy.
Pay attention - I'm not gonna tell you any of this again... She’s doesn't like your stupid ass if:
1.) Another guy’s dick is in her mouth.
It may seem cruel and blunt, but the truth is, if we women are just not that into you, chances are we will feel it’s perfectly okay to give another man, or multiple men (including your best friend) a blowie. Don’t be offended; your dick is fine. It’s just... we think it would be better if we saw other genitals.
2.) She’s kicking you in the nuts.
This is more of a sign she’s not that into you when you’re in that initial pursuit phase. If you try to come near her in a bar and she kicks you in the nuts, she’s just not that into you. Other signs include drinks thrown in your face, beer bottles smashed on your forehead, and any sort of contact made with a tazer.
3.) You have a handsome, talented, rich and hung roommate.
Sorry man, you’ll never be him. If she always wants to have “movie night” at your place and makes you watch your DVDs in the living room while constantly watching the front door and adjusting her shirt to show more cleavage, you might want to rethink her feelings for you. What can you do? Your roommate is the hottest guy in the neighborhood, that’s not your fault... you should just probably move out. When she sleeps over at night, be sure to lock her in your room. That may buy you some time.
4.) She’s put a restraining order out on you.
I know, this one is tough. She may be doing it just to get attention. If she’s actually taking the time to put a restraining order out on you, there might still be a chance. She could be playing hard to get. With this one, it may be a good idea to swing by her house a couple times a night, just to see for yourself if she’s with someone else. Maybe even go to the door and ring the bell then run away. Perhaps leave a small trinket, like her dead dog, on the front porch. But don’t give up hope. Ever.
5.) She starts letting you see her in her “period panties”.
If you’ve seen them, and you know which ones I’m talking about, then consider it an omen of death. Because if she’s gone so low as to let you see her in those off-white but used to be white, stained, up to the belly button Hanes, then she either doesn’t think much of you, or she’s saving Victoria’s Secret for someone else. Like your roommate.
6.) If she makes the "Peeee-Yewww" face when she's blowing you.
The P.U. face, which can consist of anything from waving her hand in front of her nose or scrunching up her face like she just sucked on your dick but it was coated in lemon juice, is a clear sign that she’s just not that into blowing you. She may love you dearly, but do you really want to be with a chick who won’t blow you? Ask your well-hung and successful roommate if she makes the same peeee-yewww face while blowing him before you completely dismiss her.
Guys, hookers will never love you like you want them to. Let them go. I know, she said you were her first, you were the best, you’re a stallion; but was that before or after the money changed hands? The same rule applies if your true love is made of plastic and filled with air (insert Pam Anderson joke here).
8.) If she’s giving the other guy in your threesome head.
It’s a well known fact that in your average threesome, the man that the girl blows first, or most often, is the man she’s truly interested in having a loving relationship with. So you may be doing her doggie-style, but you can’t see the sexy blow-job eyes she’s giving your friend. So smack that ass and enjoy the fleeting time you have together because she’s just not that into you.
9.) You’re clothes shopping, doing makeovers, gabbing in bed all night and spooning and/or watching “The Princess Bride”.
She’s just not that into you because you’re gay. Congratulations gentlemen, you still have a chance. Use that to your advantage. Women feel safe with gay men, and are flattered when found attractive by them. Confess your love as if it pains you to admit it. She'll have a sense of satisfaction from converting you with her irresistable beauty and you'll be satisfied by all the butt sex you'll be having.
10.) She’s Kim Shannon.
I’ll just tell you right now... I don’t like you. Sorry. Ummm... your talented, rich and well-hung roommate’s bedroom is the one at the far end of the hall, right?
The New Year's resolution is an annual rite of passage whereby boisterous hopes for personal growth spout eternal. Tis' the season - for delusions of grandeur & shattered dreams... these promises to ourselves are also the ones we quietly fail miserably to keep. Why? Because once the buzz from the bubbly wears off, we quickly come to the conclusion that resolutions are fucking stupid.
If you want to avoid crippling disappointment by January 7th when your resolutions are destined to fall by the wayside, my advice to you is that you steer clear of these mighty popular yet particularly hard to keep resolutions:
1. I Resolve To Stop Cheating On My Significant Other
But ya gots ta fuck, right? I hate to break it to you (p.s. no I don't), but it'll never happen. If you're a cheater, you're a cheater. And if you're one of those people who rationalizes your disgusting behavior by saying that when you get married, the cheating stops, please proceed to that jumbled junk drawer I know you have in your kitchen, find the tack hammer and rap the shit out of your knuckles immediately. Three times. Like Sister Mary Catherine used to do to my paws in grammar school. That evil, sex-starved bitch.
2. I Resolve To Stop Beating My Wife
The question here is whether or not she deserves the beatings. Nothing gets a household in efficient working order faster than a couple crisp backhands. Personally, I've never been a fan of it, but if the bitch insists on continually falling out of line, then by all means, give that cunt something to think about. Brass knuckle her ass back to submissiveness.
3. I Resolve To Take Down the Christmas Tree
I know, I know, I think this one's ridiculous too. I can't believe how frequently people mentioned this as one of their resolutions. Astonishment aside, if you need a resolution to take down the Christmas tree, you are one gi-normous lazy retaahd. Get up from that shitty Rent-a-Center couch, do your best fruit roll-up impersonation and peel off those crusty old sweatpants you first wet-dreamed into, spit out the wad of holiday caramels causing drool to trickle down your stubbly Travolta ass-chin and coax your wife from her perilous perch atop the teetering stepladder. Before she fucking falls and kills herself taking that stupid star off the dying evergreen's tippy top. Jeeeee-sus.
4. I Resolve To Start Doing Charity Work
This resolution is the classic guilt panic play. Guilty for what, you ask? Ya got me, but I'm sure you know why. Wink wink. The bottom line is this: charity isn't the answer you're looking for. Sure, you may save some inner city kid from turning to drugs or gang warfare. And sure, you may help build a home that houses a family who was about to get thrown out onto the streets. But does it really make you feel that good? You'll be bored with it after a week. Trust me. Just donate a couple bucks online, it's the same difference.
5. I Resolve To Lose Weight
Ah yes, the mother of all New Year's resolutions. For this one, I've got a little story for ya:
I went to the gym once. And what to my wondering eyes did appear, but three gigantor ex-NFL players patrolling the velvet rope barricade controlling the flood of new members into the club. "Fucking New Year's resolutions," I muttered to myself in disgust and reluctantly fell in line, much like the lemmings we all are. I finally managed to bribe my way inside and found yet another line awaiting me. This one nine chubbos deep, all waiting for the elliptical machine. I repeat: the ELLIPTICAL machine.
(Twenty-Second Timeout: I never use this silly concoction. Ever. For a couple reasons actually, the most important one being the crippling phobia of appearing remotely similar to Tony Little at any point in my life. I'm quite certain you know Monsieur Little from those 3am infomercials spastically pimping his infamously terrible Gazelle machine.)
I bravely placed my fears aside and got in that line too. Why? Because I figured there must be a catch if people were actually lining up to ride the elliptical. And I was secretly hoping said catch was that this version 2.0 of the original elliptical massages your genitals while working out. Or something like that. Turns out it didn't. So after waiting two hours in line watching ass cheeks frantically trying to escape from the lycra they were crammed into, I ended up looking like Tony Little after all. Ahh fuck.
Point being, you chocolate sauce guzzlers show up on January 3rd, sweat to the oldies until February 3rd - MAX - and then mail it in for the remaining eleven months, retreating back to the comfort of your internet chat rooms and econo-sized buckets of Bon Bons. Your half-hearted attempts at "fitness" make the gym experience, which is despicable on so many levels to begin with, beyond palpable.
6. I Resolve To Stop Being Gay
Come on toots, you can't stop being gay. It's not a lifestyle choice, you were born that way. Quit the pitiful self-loathing bit, ya big homo, and get on with your flaming self. Besides, gay is so hot right now. Just go suck a dick and get it over with already.
7. I Resolve To Stop Smoking
You're kidding, right? You don't seriously think you can quit smoking, do you? You're addicted. Suckaah. Say you're the first person in history who miraculously manages to stop smoking, completely and forever. You have no clue what's next in store, do you? If the idea of stuffing your face with "Chicorettes" every nineteen minutes and feverishly slapping Nicotrol patches all over your ass upon getting out of the splash closet in the morning sounds appealing, then hey, I wish you nothing but the best.
8. I Resolve To Stop Being So Fucking Cheap
Cheapness is a disease. I firmly believe this and will fight to the death with anyone who disagrees. For the record, there's NO correlation whatsoever to cheapness and the amount of money one person has, or makes. Fact. However, the resolution is a good start, because it means you've identified that you are indeed suffering from this horrible disease. Unfortunately, this won't do you any good in curing it. Sorry. To clarify, if you've done any of the following things, you're a cheap motherfucker:
1. Calculated the tip on a pre-tax, or even worse, pre-tax AND pre-drink basis.
2. Openly denied being cheap and instead suggested that you're "frugal." That's akin to claiming you're not racist because you have a black friend.
3. Blurted out the term "Splitsville!" to your girlfriend when the check for dinner lands on the table.
4. Disappeared into the men's room as your turn to buy a round for the boys neared.
5. Got up at 4am and headed to the malls on Black Friday for some holiday shopping. Then defended this horrifying decision by stating that "the deals are really amazing!" You fucking cheap idiot.
Wow, this topic is a piece in itself, but alas, I must move on.
9. I Resolve To Start Trimming My Reproductive Region
The act of "trimming the fairway" or "manicuring Motown," as it's affectionately been called, isn't all the shits and giggles it's rumored to be. There are serious occupational hazards involved with this endeavor. Before we move on from this particular resolution, I want to point out that I'm not completely ignorant to the fact that trimming one's place where the perverted uncle wants to touch brings with it serious improvement in appearance. Fellas, admit it, most of you could use a little assistance in the "depth perception" department. So if you're going to go there, do the deed with a pair of foolproof, Crayola kiddy scissors. And for you, ladies, leave the vaginal housekeeping to those Korean grandmothers and their hot buckets of wax. They're fucking scientists when it comes to that shit.
10. I Resolve To Stop Buying Everything on Credit
But you don't have any money, how are you going to do that? You need your toys and are you really going to stop going out? Like the instructions on a bottle of Pantene: Pay the minimum. Max it out. Repeat. Then, when that primo balance transfer offer arrives in your mailbox, transfer the fucker. I've heard this course of action hurts your credit rating, but I'm not sure why, that's just being fiscally responsible. Granted, as interest rates slowly rise and the average consumer's fixed cost burden rises along with it, we're going to have a swell of bankruptcies in this country. No worries though, Chapter 11s are destined to become chic. You can bank on this. (Pun absolutely intended.)
11. I Resolve To Cut Back on Texting/iPhoning/BlackBerrying in Bars
I knew this thumb-clicking phenomenon had reached a crescendo when I read about the injuries that have been occurring from excessive messaging volume. "Textitis," a (now) commonly diagnosed overuse injury, is sweeping the nation, leaving a trail of thumb slings and empty ibuprofen bottles in its wake.
To all those in bars and/or restaurants who have their heads buried in whatever techno device they prefer to wield: STOP. You look like a huge, fucking douchebag. It's rude and embarrassing to those whose company you share. While admittedly the greatest flirting technology since IM'ing, there is a point where it crosses the line of acceptability. If you made a resolution to cut back, then congrats, that's checkpoint 1 down the long road to recovery.
12. I Resolve To Start a Blog
"Link to me! Comment on my latest entry! How did you find my site?" Great work! You're almost there.
Congrats, your blog will officially be number 11,365,786 in existence. There are now more blogs than McDonald's cheeseburgers served. Just wait until Michael Dell figures out how to sell computers efficiently to China's agricultural population. Then you'll be able to add three zeros to the aforementioned number. And they hang fuckers for blogging over there. A bit of wisdom: no one wants to hear your rants and/or opinions, nor do we care about the excruciating daily minutiae that comprises your sad existence.
By the way, have you been to MY blog? Oh fuck off, my blog is different.