2012 In Review... A Recap.

 
Well, THAT sucked.  And...



 Ummmm...




Nah, that's it.   

Resolutions Are Fucking Stupid

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.

Yeah, I'm included...

Happy Halloween 2009!!!

.

Finally... Halloween is here!!!! Today is the holiday all of us down-home American whore wannabes look forward to! For one night, all common social sense is thrown to the wayside and we women become empowered in our own sexuality because we are allowed, for one night, to dress like huge sluts. Just like Britney, Beyonce, Madonna & Hannah Montana, but just for one night and without all the self-serving ballads and hip-hop beats!

The thing most people don't know is that there’s so much more going on behind the fuzzy bunny tails and pleather jumpsuits than meets the eye. I am revealing to you the true behind-the-scenes reasoning for each of these festive costumes. So tonight, when you’re holding that Sexy Schoolgirl’s hair as she pukes Jaeger into the toilet at the Bottom’s Up, know that deep down inside, she’s a real person, with real feelings. And a secret desire to be a prostitute.

Let's get to know the ladies in question, shall we?


Sexy Nurse

You’ve been a bad boy! You need some sexy medicine! And this was the only Halloween costume they had left! Rest assured that Sexy Nurse didn’t really want to be a sexy nurse, but she waited until the last second to shop and couldn’t fit into the one XXS Sexy Kitty outfit they had left. Regardless, this girl will make the most of it by overdoing the Nurse bit and checking to hear your heartbeat with her plastic stethoscope over and over again. Since there will be 14 other Sexy Nurses in the bar at any given time on Halloween, you’ll be pleased to know that this one is usually the first to jump up on the bar and strip in order to win back the attention her costume has lost her.



The Sexy Referee

Sports! This one is one of the guys! She totally digs whatever you dig -whatEVER you dig!! She's as cool as hell, and probably can suck an elephant through a pixie straw. Careful though.... she has LOTS of male friends. You don't need that kind of competition, so this girl is better served drunk and with a side of buffalo wings.



The Sexy Disney Character

A true princess, and be prepared to treat her like one. The Sexy Disney Girl didn’t get enough attention as a young girl and Sexy Snow White, Sexy Cinderella or Sexy Pocahontas is the showcase for her inner battle between the child within and the raging slut she is today. Easily confused by shiny objects, this girl will come home with you if candy and dolls are promised. Swallow your pride and wear a Prince Charming outfit and she’ll bob for your poisoned apples in the bathroom. But be cautioned, she’ll be planning your Disney-themed magical wedding and subsequent honeymoon to Disneyland by the next morning.



The Sexy Cop

Spread ‘em! I know what you’re thinking - this girl is a dominatrix at heart and wants to spank you until you like it. No, if she was a dominatrix she would probably have dressed up as a dominatrix. The Sexy Cop is actually a tranny trolling the Halloween streets for unsuspecting men to handcuff to a bed and pee on. Why else would she be so into that nightstick? I mean, come on.



The Sexy Daisy Duke, Jessica Simpson or Britney Spears

She wants SO BADLY to be her! Hidden in this gal’s closet is one of those microphones that makes it sound like you’re singing on the radio and about 17 tube-top-leather-pant and chunky Spice Girl’s shoe outfit combinations. At night, after she’s sure everyone’s out for the evening, Britney-Wanna-Be puts on her 1998 “Baby One More Time” CD and a tube top and gives the most stunning pop concert you will never see. Buy her a subscription to US Weekly and she’s all yours.


The Sexy 70's Girl

The key word here is "lazy". This chick spent $10 and 20 minutes in a Goodwill and found a trippy paisley dress and some white boots, which equals all kinds of cheap. Everyone knows that Halloween costumes must cost upwards of $60 and only be made from the thinnest and most easily torn fabric made in Korea. Any girl not willing to spend $60 on an outfit she’ll wear once is a whore and cannot be trusted.


The Sexy Fairy

Caution: To approach this girl is to step into a world of Marilyn Manson, Hot Topic and constant Harry Potter references. Fairies equal Goth, and the dark, “historically-accurate” fairy you see in the bar may actually just be wearing her “going-out” clothes. She is angry at you and she doesn’t even know you. Fairies don’t need men to survive. They need nothing but nature and the Internet. She might be a little chubby now, but she was even fatter in high school. That’s why she moved to Chicago - to start anew and become a manager of a Spencer’s Gifts. She’s the one for you if you really want that 30% discount.

The Sexy Sexy Girl

An honest and true woman. No pretense, no hiding, no outer clothing. This lovely lady wears your average everyday full-out lingerie. No animal tail; nothing to distract from the fact that she is wearing underwear. It may be cold out, but no coat for Sexy Sexy Girl, not even a sexy coat, because that would take away from the impact of her wearing only underwear. Just underwear. Unfortunately, what you see is the best you’re ever going to get. Sexy Sexy has revealed to you and all of your friends the best boudoir outfit she has to offer. So when she takes you home and slyly says, “Let me slip into something more comfortable...” she means stale cotton panties, a sports bra and some socks. Oh, and did you get the part where I said she just showed off her best sexy time skivvies to all of your friends?


The Sexy Kitty, Mousie or Bunny

Almost always complimented with a tight leotard or corset and panties combo, the focus here is not on the animal this woman pretends to portray. It is merely a way to top off what she had planned as a Sexy Sexy Girl outfit, but chickened out on at the last second. This girl is a tease, a doesn’t-follow-through-er, and will most likely be the girl who discusses anal with you, but pulls out of the plan at the last second.


The Sexy Dead Girl

She’s two days away from committing suicide because she’ll never use her journalism degree or move out of her parents’ house in Parma, Ohio. Move along.

Christmas Bigotry - BAH HUMBUG!!!

They were putting on a stupid celebration in the park (you know - one of those festivals designed to do nothing but empty your pockets) and I stopped to watch a bunch of kids all dressed up in reindeer costumes singing on stage. I was listening to the words they were singing and realized that one of my favorite songs from childhood is nothing but a verbal beat-down on people who are different...

You've got a kid that's a complete and total social reject because of a physical deformity with which he was born; nothing he can help. (Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, had a very shiny nose; and if you ever saw it, you would even say it glows).

The other kids exclude him, make fun of him, and mock him (All of the other reindeer used to laugh and call him names; they never let poor Rudolph join in any reindeer games)...

UNTIL..... the "poor" reject kid gets thrown into a situation in which, due to the nature of his disability, he's the only person able to perform a certain task (Then one foggy Christmas eve, Santa came to say "Rudolph with your nose so bright, won't you guide my sleigh tonight?").

LO AND BEHOLD, the disabled kid's suddenly the MAN OF THE HOUR - and due to his new-found fame, finds himself with all the other kids riding his coat-tails (Then all the reindeer loved him, and they shouted out with glee, "Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer, you'll go down in history!").

WHAT??? Are you fucking kidding me? This is socially acceptable folklore? We, as a society have the balls to encourage our children to buy into the notion that unless they're inherently USEFUL, it's perfectly acceptable to make a mockery of the disabled members of society?

I don't see anything in there about the other reindeer APOLOGIZING to Rudolph, do you?

Now I know why everyone calls ME on drunk-karaoke night... They're using me for my
disability...

Visions of Sugarplums (smashed on the wall)

Kicking off my BAH HUMBUG series, here's my first gripe about the holiday season:

Retail Clerks - BAH HUMBUG!!!!!


If ONE MORE fraudulent well-wishing retail clerk proclaims "Merry Christmas!" or "Happy Holidays!" to me, I think I'll explode.

What's so merry about bumper to bumper traffic, retail stores all decked out with tacky decorations covered in glitter (I don't care if they ARE made by the children at Meeting Street School - they're still ugly), screaming children who are obviously out of the control of their oblivious parents and the same 'ol same 'ol carols blaring out of every speaker you pass??? Nothing merry about any of that to me.

And why is it that the other 11 months out of the year, I can't get ONE of these asswipes to acknowledge my royal presence, yet during the holiday season, they all feel the urge to be my close buddy??? Gimme a break. They must be working on commission.

Merry Friggin' Christmas... grumble grumble.