I'm One Of The Guys; The One With Great Tits...

Hey fellas! I know this is supposed to be "Guys' Night", but I thought you might be willing to make an exception for little ol' me. After all, I'm totally just like one of the guys!

I can completely understand your wanting to exclude females from this gathering. They can be such a pain! They demand too much attention, they're annoying, and they're just sooo high maintenance. Not me... I'm different! I'm not all hung up on labeling a relationship. I'm down for whatever, whenever, wherever. Hi-five!

Don't you hate it when girls are all stuck on what they look like? I'm not like that at all... check it out - jeans and a tiny, tiny t-shirt. Baseball cap with a ponytail through the back. No makeup (except a little mascara and some lip gloss).  If that doesn't make it clear that I'm just like one of the guys, I don't know what does.

Who's up for some buffalo wings?

Hey, huddle up - guy talk for a sec. I just wanna make one thing clear... This is definitely not a transparent ploy to gain your attention. This is in no way some sad attempt to connect with you because it's the only way I know how.

Break!

Hey, can I be in your fantasy football league?  I know I have no business being in it, but I'd love to be able to loudly announce to the guys at work that I'm in a fantasy football league and constantly talk about how my players are performing even though I have no idea what's going on and don't really care, because then they'd know that I'm just one of the guys! I think I'll draft Joe Montana with my first pick.  Then I'll take LeBron James, followed by Indiana Jones.

By the way, I have two brothers and we always wrestle. It's a guy thing.

Why, yes, that IS a Maxim magazine on the back of my toilet next to my scented candle and decorative seashells. I have a subscription! Maxim is the best magazine ever - it's sooo funny. "Top Ten Reasons Why Sorority Girls Are Easy"... Oh my God - sooooo true!

I guess I've always been a tomboy at heart. When all the other little girls in my neighborhood were playing with dolls, I was playing baseball with the boys.  I was horrible at it, and never had any real interest in the sport, but I got to wear pigtails and a cute jersey!

Wanna hear me burp the alphabet?

What's that? No, I don't mind if you ask my friend out.  But just between us guys, she's a total slut and you probably wouldn't want anything to do with her. She doesn't even know when the Superbowl is. I mean, come on.  Hey, just lookin' out, bro.

Who's down for some tackle football?

I'll Have What The Naked Guy On The Roof's Having...

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. 

Marijuana

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.

Cocaine

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. 

Ecstasy

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. 

LSD

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.

Methamphetamine

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.

Do you recognize any of the behavior I've just mentioned in yourself? If so, perhaps you could look into a new kind of "high." Exercise is an option, but there's always the looming danger of a pants-pooping heart attack just around the corner . Hey...is any of this even registering? Look at you. I have to say, you're giving drugs a bad name. What are you on right now? Glue? No, seriously - you've been huffing glue? SPRAY PAINT???!!! You've gotta be kidding me. Here's $5.00... have some self-respect and get some VCR head cleaner like the classy junkies do.

If You've Seen Her In Her Period Panties, She Can't Stand You...

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.

7.) If you paid money for 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?

Say Hello To My Leetle Subordinate...

  
Unless you’ve been locked in an INS holding cell for the past several months, you know that illegal immigration is a hot topic. Whenever the issue comes up, it’s only a matter of time before some douchecanoe regurgitates the following snippet of horseshit: "Illegal Immigrants only want the jobs Americans won’t do."

No matter where you stand on illegal immigration, you should find this insulting. It suggests that the transients who have traveled thousands of miles have no greater ambition than to mimic the monkey-servants from Conquest of the Planet of the Apes. Listen... these are real people with skills. Sure, pulling out isn't usually one of them, but I digress....

Given that we live in a country where people are employed to keep guys hard between takes on porno sets, I think it’s safe to say that there aren’t many jobs that Americans won’t do. It’s just that they aren’t desperate enough to do them for three bucks an hour and a can of Goya Guava Nectar.

That being said, I did some homework and found out that there are actually a few jobs that Americans refuse to do and so they are now usually manned by Chico, Pedro, Juanita & Rosa. If you are here illegally, feel free to take these jobs without fear of recourse from "Whitey"; no questions asked.

As a public service for our friends without papers, following are the jobs shunned by Americans that are up for grabs, along with my personal commentary about said career option. You're welcome, my lovely vatos.

May Day Protester

Outside of a few college freshmen and most college professors, Americans don’t give a flying fuck about May 1st. After all, nobody likes a communist. Besides, it’s a lot more fun to get drunk and barbeque on Labor Day than it is to march around like an asshole on May Day.

Because of this lack of interest, evil and vile leftist groups are trying to import their May Day protesters from south of the border, and it seems to be working. Somehow they were able to convince illegals that attending a giant May Day rally was the best way to gain amnesty. After all, nothing says “I’m a patriotic American” like attending a giant commie rally and demanding “justice”. Most illegals seem to enjoy this job, and truth be told, it irks me more than just a smidge. Listen here, amigos... Castrating a rapist is justice. Gassing a murderer is justice. Clubbing a baby seal is justice. Hiroshima was justice. Coming into a country illegally and enjoying the jobs that honest hardworking Americans hate? Well that’s NOT justice. It's just fucking rude.

Clearly, I’m kidding (except for the ‘Hiroshima’ part, and the ‘rude’ part, and the ‘everything I‘ve said so far’ part). Seriously, though... if you really want the May Day protestor job, it’s all yours, homes.

Flavored Ice Vendor

Flavored ice? What the fuck? I scream, you scream, we all scream for ICE CREAM, motherfuckers. If Rocky Road and Pistachio were being served out of that rolling aluminum box o' bacteria, you'd be buying it from Mike, not Miguelito. But this is only water. Frozen. Then splashed with dye (no flavor necessary) and served in a paper oil funnel. Miguelito it is, cabrones!

And seriously... that cart? I know gas prices are high, but it’s 2010, vato! Get a truck. I’d imagine a full-fledged flavored ice truck is expensive, but I see illegals riding around in the back of pickups all the time. At the very least, you should put the cart on the truckbed, don a Sombrero and crank up the mariachi music. It probably doesn’t meet OSHA standards, but you’re already illegal, so who gives a shit?

Roman Catholic Priest

It’s no secret that the Roman Catholic Church is having a hard time finding Americans who are interested in joining the priesthood. I think the whole ass-raping of stellar amounts of altar boys may have a little to do with it.  Well, that and the fact that God is imaginary. But I'm not proof positive, so don't quote me on that. Eh, fuck it... quote me - it's the ass raping/God's imaginary thing.

Enter the immigrants. The third world is ripe with superstition AND pedophilia, which makes it the perfect place to recruit for the priesthood.

Imagine yourself as some poor unfortunate soul sitting in a third world shanty town fighting with stray dogs for a half-eaten McGriddle®. Life is bad. Then one day some dude in a big hat shows up offering you food, magical powers, and a trip to America in exchange for leaving your shithole of a country. Did I mention you’d also get all the wine-flavored blood you can drink? Who in their right mind wouldn’t take that offer?

So welcome to America, Father Villareal, or what ever your name is. Eat all you want, just don’t touch the kids.

Fucking The Ugly People (aka the immigrant fuck ethic)

Truth be told, there is one simple reason that immigrants have always and will always be needed in this country: they are willing to do the butterfaces that Americans won’t do.

My great-grandfather left the old country one-hundred years ago on a raft made entirely of shamrock stems and his own B.O. When he arrived in America he had no formal education, no trade, and he’d eaten nothing but raw potatos since his twelfth birthday. But what he lacked in intelligence, skills, and hygiene, he more than made up for with his willingness to sex up ugly girls. Not long after he was processed at Ellis Island he married an American girl named ‘Pig Faced’ Mary Stanley (he didn’t speak English so the name didn’t bother him).

As it turned out, his new father-in-law Nathaniel Stanley, a wealthy industrialist, was so happy that his hideous daughter had found a husband that he gladly welcomed my great-grandfather into the family, going as far as to have a local boy buried alive for making fun of his new Irish son-in-law’s ginger kid appearance. From that day forward my great-grandfather was considered as American as -apple pie, and everyone lived happily ever after (except for my great-grandmother, who was beaten nightly by her drunken immigrant husband).

This same fuck ethic can be found in our latest batch of immigrants. Just last week I saw a Latino busboy leaving his restaurant for the day. Waiting outside was a girl who looked like a cross between Philip Seymour Hoffman and Courtney Love. Unlike native-born Americans who take their normal looking women for granted, this immigrant boy saw through her disgusting appearance and was grateful for what he had: an easy lay and a possible Green Card.

While the willingness of the illegal immigrants to do our most unwanted jobs is important, their willingness to do our most unwanted people is their greatest contribution to our society. So the next time you and your xenophobic friends decide to start rounding up illegals, ask yourselves this question: Who is going to do all the fatties?

Well, that’s it, kiddos. As always, when you are done trashing the article & proving that the concept of sarcasm is lost on you, why not sweetly tell me if there are any jobs I left off the list.

Savage Beasts...

Baby seals are heartless killers... You can see it in their stone-cold black eyes. If they could scoot their little plump bodies close enough to you, there is no doubt in my mind that they would rip your lungs out and eat them in a split second. I admit...  I don’t quite remember all of the exact circumstances around previous baby seal attacks on humans, but I’m sure there are many. If we didn’t protect ourselves from these admitted predators, there is no doubt in my mind that today’s taste for fish will surely turn into tomorrow’s desire for human flesh. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let one of those demented and vile creatures use my ear for a chew toy.

Thankfully, we have brave warriors out there on the ice fighting the battle to keep us protected. I am proud of the hard-working men who ensure our safety. They risk their own lives to maintain a civilized society void of savage attacks by cretins and creatures that have simply evolved as cold, calculating killing machines.

But, like the US military soldiers battling in Iraq, there are other hot spots full of tyranny that we need to eradicate as well. After these brave paladins control the dangerous, savage seal population, they should turn their attention and sharp axes towards other potential dangers...

Like butterflies. These devilish insects transfer pollen like a whore transfers disease. Any creature evil enough to carry spores from one entity to another needs to be controlled. We must wipe out any of these multicolored carriers of carnage at once.

And panda bears. The mask is a sure sign of evil. Like a robber in the night, these fur balls of fear hide in the mountains of China sharpening long bamboo skewers and preparing for what will undoubtedly become a savage attack on man. No one is safe... Did we not learn anything from our little tête-à-tête with the Viet Kong?

And meerkats. These burrowing little underground death machines are organized and have a complex military that includes centuries standing guard, intricate warning signals, and a plan. Hakuna Matata, my ass! We'd better smash their demonic little skulls before they team up with our domestic squirrels and all hell breaks loose. Stop them before the nuts they gather for winter are your own!

And after our fearless, club weilding heroes wipe out the seal pups, pandas, and every last smirking dolphin, we should focus on those creatures that live among us and have already infiltrated our trust and our homes.

I for one, will be watching my dog verrrrry closely...

The Most Suave World Leader?...

I was watching our esteemed leader, President Obama doing some public speaking/press conferencing on YouTube the other night. After seeing the smooth way he handled the bottomfeeding media scum, I was left with just ONE question - Is Obama the Most Suave Prez of All Time? The answer is: not yet. But I'm thinking he might take that title by the end of his first term at the very latest.

So, kids, who IS the pimpingest prez of all time? It's a pretty tough one to call... so I've scoured the history books to bring you the most deviant bunch of Presidents to ever serve at 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue.

Some of the facts are based on facts. Some additional facts are based on hard evidence that I either misheard or whole heartedly fabricated. The names are real. The presidents and their mistress slutbags are real. Some of the other stuff is too... Doesn't matter... I'll see you in hell.

1. John "F Anything That Moves" Kennedy -AKA- Jack "Can't Get Enough of the Grassy Knoll" Kennedy

Arguably our nation's premiere Gigilo in Chief, Kennedy was notorious for his womanizing. He was even rumored to have banged Marilyn Monroe, which is more than you can say for Zachary Taylor.


2. William "Goin South" Clinton
Once describing himself as "The Only Black American president", given his poor upbringing in rural Arkansas. I whole heartedly agree that he is indeed a black man, but only because he seems hell bent on chasing fat white chicks. Clinton was the mack daddy of presidents. Not only tagging broads during both terms but also while he was governor of Arkansas. He even married a lesbian... His indiscretion with Monica Lewinsky will no doubt be his undying legacy. The name Monica Lewinsky is so hewn into the American lexicon that as I write this, Microsoft Word not only didn't offer to spell check her last name, it referred to it as a verb.


3. Lyndon "EL-BJ" Johnson

Following in the footsteps of John F Kenney this southern democrat and former "Dixiecrat" wasn't as brash with his dangerous liaisons with Alice Glass. Alice Glass was born in Lott, Texas, and attended Texas Christian University. (I think MOST adulterating Co-eds always come from Christian Universities). She met LBJ prior to his presidency and rumors abound that their affair lasted well into his term and a half in office. In fact during a botched attempt at phone sex, LBJ instead of dialing Ms. Glass instead dialed his secretary of state Robert McNamara who, without question, mistakenly deployed 20,000 more troops to Vietnam and 1 in the stink.


4. Thomas "Ride Sally Ride" Jefferson

There's no nice way to put this... Jefferson banged slaves. He banged'em by the hundreds. He banged'em like the boat to Liberia was leaving tomorrow.
Though he spoke openly against miscegenation (the amalgamation of whites with blacks) during the day, at night, when the lights were out, he was all about the booty. And it didn't matter what color booty. He held these truths to be self evident. That pussy is pussy and he got his share of trim.

One woman in particular, Sally Hemming, is said to have bore six children from Jefferson while serving with him at Monticello after his wife passed away. This left many historians to theorize that the real reason Abraham Lincoln later penned the Emancipation in Proclamation in 1863 was because half of those enslaved were somehow related to Jefferson.


5. Dwight "D-Money's on The Dresser, Bitch" Eisenhower

Ike, Ike Ike. Didn't you learn anything from Jefferson? Don't fuck the help! Kay Summersby served as Eisenhower's personal chauffeur during WWII, during which time, Ike made several attempts to park it in her ass. Unfortunately, according to Summersby's 1976 autobiography, they were never able to fully commit to the act because Eisenhower could not get it all the way up. Ouch! If you're going to be a dog, Ike, at least make sure to bring the bone!


6. Franklin "Sell-A-Ho" Roosevelt

Not even getting struck down with paralysis could stop FDR from getting his. He kept banging his mistress, Lucy Page Mercer Rutherfurd, even after he was wheelchair-bound! Now that's determination to the art of being a scumbag! His wife Eleanor became so upset over the affair that she became anorexic. This gained her some points in Franklin's eyes because she was now skinnier; however she was still unattractive and old. No sale. It is a well known fact that Lucy Page Mercer was at FDR's deathbed with him when he died, possibly fellating him.


7. George H.W. "Gonna Tax That Ass" Bush

In fairness, Bush Senior should probably be exempt from criticism for practicing adultery, based solely on the appearance of Barbara. If your wife looks like the ghost of George Washington, you should be able to do whatever you want to avoid getting into bed with her.

His side piece of choice was Jennifer Fitzgerald, who worked for Bush "in a variety of positions". They got their swerve on pretty consistently over the years while Fitzgerald served as his "close personal advisor". Eventually, Big Barb got wise to the shenanigans and insisted that he assign her to an overseas position that would put her well out of fucking range. Bush made her the U.S. diplomat to the United Kingdom, which forced him to travel across the Atlantic to get some non-withered strange.


8. Millard "Fills More Women" Fillmore

Never elected to office he was named president following the death of Zachary Taylor. He was the last president to serve as a member of the Whig party--a party based on supporting the supremacy of Congress over the Executive Branch and favoring a program of modernization and economic development. In addition, they liked to wear white powdered wigs and white line cravats when they "got it on". Millard was no exception. He is said to have not only had the largest genitalia of any US president, which he referred to as the Secretary of Fuck, but he also had the larges number of elicit affairs. Somewhere near 150 total. In fact, when Franklin Pierce ran against him, his slogan was "Pierce for President. Fillmore fucks everybody" Though it was no "Tip-a-Canoe and Tyler too," Pierce was ultimately successful.


9. Warren "G-I Meant To Pull Out" Harding

Historians have long debated over whether Harding was a shittier President or Husband, but no one has ever argued that he didn't suck at both. Harding first put his mac on a shorty named Carrie Fulton Phillips. When he ditched her, The Republican National Committee kept her quiet about the affair by sending her and her family to Europe and giving them 50,000 bones, which, by today's standards is something like 11 billion dollars.

But Warren G was not done regulating that ass yet. At the age of 55 he started banging his neighbor's 21-year-old daughter, Nan Britton. Britton later gave birth to their illegitimate love child, Elizabeth. Harding promised to support the child but then punked out on the responsibility by dying a couple of years later. The ultimate pimp move!


10. James "A Good Time" Garfield

Only in office a total of 4 months when he was wounded by an assassin's bullet, Garfield wasted no time in getting his. On a trip to New York City, "James to the G" (as he was known to the ladies) met up with Lucia Calhoun. The two of them began an affair that continued after their tryst in New York via letters for many years. Written correspondence in 1880 was the modern day equivalent of a hand job.

AND MY PERSONAL PICK FOR NUMBER ONE PIMPIN' PREZ OF ALL TIME IS:

James "President Boy Toy" Buchanan

Buchanan earns my coveted top spot based solely on the fact that he was by far our cock-hungriest President. The only unmarried Pres in our nation's history, it is generally accepted that Buchanan was a homosexual. What would lead historians to believe this? Just subtle indications, like the fact that he shared an apartment and bed with another dude for 16 years! William R. King (who went on to become America's 16th Vice President, as soon as he got done blowing ten dudes) was Buchanan's roommate and life partner. Andrew Jackson referred to the couple as "Aunt Fancy and Miss Nancy" (no lie).

So, just based on the sheer audacity it took to simultaneously be a a Flamer and The President of The United States of America in the mid 1800's Buchanan gets my "Pimpingest Prez of All Time" rating.

Live By The Sword, Die By The Axe Body Spray...

When you kick the bucket, it will be the very last thing you ever do on this planet, and your cause of death will be what people remember for a long time after you're gone. That is why your final exit can be such an embarrassment if you do it the wrong way.

In an effort to help you avoid "going out like bitch", here's a list of the most humiliating ways to croak; steer clear of these when you're ready to depart:

Getting crushed by poorly-mounted plasma TV over your bed

Ceilings above beds are for mirrors, not TVs. Duh.

Drowning in a teaspoon of water

"A baby can drown in a teaspoon of water." I am certain you have heard this little bit of home-spun wisdom countless times. But can you imagine being that baby? A teaspoon of water!? How embarrassing. That's such a small of amount of water. Just roll over, stupid baby.

Getting your picture taken with a tiger

Unless you killed it with your bare hands, why? You want a photo of you with a tiger so bad, I have Photoshop- call me. I'll put you in a picture with two tigers and Gary Busey riding a fucking unicorn—whatever you want. I can even airbrush out your deep-set eyes and drool, retard.

Old Age

Get out there and do something. How humiliating is it to have spent 70+ years on this planet and not have done anything exciting enough to kill you.

Cutting yourself while shaving...your balls

There are two things that should never come near your naked balls, guys... a baby and a twin blade disposable.

Re-enacting a stunt from "Jackass"

I don't care what anyone says, and I am probably going to hell for it, but the video of the kid trying to jump the car like he saw on "Jackass" is fucking hysterical. Now, before you judge me, the truth is I don't particularly enjoy watching people get injured. I don't own any Faces of Death videos, and I get a little queasy when I see people getting hurt on shows like "Scarred". But seeing that idiot kid cartwheel through the air after getting hit by the car, followed immediately by the people behind the camera gasping as if this was some totally unforeseeable turn of events, gives me fits of laughter.

Like Vincent Vega from Pulp Fiction

Bottom line - it's embarrassing to die on the toilet, but getting shot with your own gun is just added shame.

  

As a Suicide Bomber

Thinking you'll get props from Allah after driving your exploding car into a mall, only to learn the horrible truth that you'll be forced to choose between being boiled in molten lead for all of eternity or watching Short Circuit 2 five times.

Like Goose in Top Gun

There are only 40 worse ways to go out than snapping your neck while ejecting during a training exercise so Tom Cruise can overact his way through the last forty minutes of a movie.

Bleeding out following an adult circumcision

Just let that foreskin flap, homie. You can always tell chicks to look at what you've got under the hood.

Drowning during your Born-Again Baptism

Boy, going to all the trouble of alienating all your old friends for Jesus is hard enough, but not even having the opportunity to enjoy years of self-righteous condescension is just a kick in the box.  

 

Severing a major artery while trying to open a can of tuna fish

After stinking up the entire break room with the reek of that nasty-ass cat food, maybe you deserve this fate.

Like Vic Morrow

Getting your head cut off by a helicopter while acting in a shitty movie. Actually, three people died—two of them were six-year old siblings. But we all learned a lesson about racism, didn't we? 

  

Getting eaten by a shark

If you've been eaten by a shark and you're anyone other than a survivor of a shipwreck a la the USS Indianapolis—where was your fucking head? As far as preventable deaths go, this is right at the top. It's not like sharks go wading ashore to attack sun-burned white people at the beach. Human beings were not put on this Earth for the purpose of swimming around in the Pacific within range of primordial beasts with giant teeth. They're there. We're here. Why not

keep it like that?   

Chaffing yourself to death with one-ply toilet paper

There certain products in which price should not be an object. Shit tickets are not one of them. The USSR crumbled for a lack of two-ply, you know.

Slipping on a banana peel

Who are you? Magilla Gorilla?Who dies because of slipping on a banana peel? You dumbass. Was it an Acme Banana Peel? Did Wile E. Coyote put it there? Elmer Fudd? Did a piano fall on you afterwards?

Fishing

I'm not talking about those guys who fish for sword fish in the middle of the ice-cold ocean or the guys from "Deadliest Catch". Those guys are MACHINES. I

am talking about recreational fishing. I read a story about a guy in Europe a few years ago who had hooked some big ole fish while sitting on the beach somewhere. He refused to let the beast go and it dragged him out into knee deep water. His last words before being pulled under and drowned by an animal without arms, legs, any discernible weapons, and a big hook in it's mouth: "I got 'em now!" The fish was never found. How humiliating.

  

From Athlete's Foot

I've seen the commercials, and if those flames caught your pants on fire, you could die. That would be terrible. I'm surprised it hasn't happened before.  

Failing to seek medical attention after four-hour erection

And why are you taking Viagra anyway? The day a man stops getting constant erections ought to be a day for celebration.

Like William Rehnquist

Telling your friend that she should go ahead and retire because you can make it through the next year, then dying anyway. Whoops.

 

Getting bludgeoned by your children

It says something about your parenting skills when one, or both, of your kids takes a ball peen hammer to your skull. And yes, it's your fault if it happens.

  

Being crushed in your multi-million dollar house in a mudslide

You're not the impoverished victims of the Haiti disaster. You're just some rich ass-wipe who built a house in a stupid place. I don't want to see your fucking sad face on TV asking for help if you happen to survive either. Buy a house on

solid ground, you fucking megalomaniac.

  

Like Cheng...or was it Eng??

Dying of fear because your Siamese twin brother just died and you're attached

to his corpse . Jee-zus. This would really, really, really, really, really suck. Oh,

and it's okay to call them Siamese, because Cheng and Eng were Siamese, you

over-sensitive bitches.

Strangling on the finish line tape at the end of a marathon

Does anyone feel dirty after chuckling at the Gatorade commercial where the dude is wobbling and falling at the end of a triathlon like those sows with Mad Cow Disease? Me either. That shit is hilarious.

Like Roy Horn

What exactly do you expect when you try to make an enormous wild animal wear a Luftwaffe helmet and ride a bicycle? Just because you have absolutely no shame or pride doesn't mean that cat doesn't have any self-respect.

A tragic Bowflex accident

The most embarrassing thing about it is that you actually own a Bowflex. Seriously, who shells out two thousand dollars for fake exercise equipment? Lift a fucking weight.  

  

While climbing Mt. Everest

This is all risk and no reward. It was cool the first time someone did it, and ever since it has been a total waste of time. I mean you can take fucking helicopter to the top if you want to see it so bad... and if you don't make it, you died doing something that Sherpas do as their job. Really impressive, you rock climbing asswipe.

Looking down the barrel of a gun to see if it's loaded

Which is pretty equivalent to getting hit by a car because you weren't looking as you crossed the street.

Getting your head cut off by a Hall of Fame running back

Becomes even more embarrassing when everybody and their mom knows he's

guilty and he walks anyway. And when Howard Stern makes jokes about it for

the next decade.

  

Axe Body Spray Poisoning

You can spray all the glorified deodorant on yourself as you want, but it isn't going to get you laid. You are an idiot, and you are broke. You know how I know? Because men with jobs wear cologne.

Whichever way Jay Leno dies

If any single event can stop or at least slow down the degeneration of American society, it would be Jay Leno's removal from the mortal coil. His jokes would be funnier attached to his tombstone, too.

And I have a surprise, kids... Because I know most of you are already totally off balance, I wanted to even things out by mentioning what, in my opinion, are the most uber awesome ways to bite the dust:

~ Of wounds sustained in a triumphant battle with a dragon.

~ Leaping into an exploding volcano.

~ Purposely crashing your spaceship into the sun.

~ Riding a nuclear bomb out the belly of a B-52.

~ Getting sucked into a super black hole.

~ Catching a lightening bolt in your hands to save a baby.

~ Choking on Gus Hansen's pe.... um... never mind that one.

We've Come A Long Way, Baby...

Ladies, we should be so proud of ourselves... We are strong, independent and successful. We hold positions of power, run Fortune 500 companies and best of all, we have one night a week at local dive bars dedicated specifically to us. We get free well liquor and cheap beer, which we drink from little plastic cups for several glorious hours. Looks like we've finally made it!

I thought we would forever go unappreciated in the eyes of men – centuries of being oppressed, holed up in the house only permitted to cook, clean and churn out babies. But all is not lost. Ladies Night is the thanks and gratitude we’ve been searching for all these years. Forget equal pay and opportunities, the comfort of not being sexually harassed at work, or being praised for our minds, not out bodies. Cheap liquor and watered-down beer is enough to set our minds at ease and make up for all the demeaning behavior we’ve had to endure.

I have never felt more appreciated and honored than stepping foot into a dingy bar, slipping on a paper wristband and waiting 45 minutes for my first complimentary beverage. I am so grateful for the free booze, you can be sure I’ll sleep with any guy that comes my way. And when I have enough liquid thanks coursing through my blood, I’ve even been known to celebrate this feminine victory with another fellow honoree by taking off my shirt, making out with her and dancing on the bar. There’s no better way to display my new-found female dominance than by towering over my male subordinates while performing a spontaneous and seductive dance. I am woman, watch me chug.

With swelling pride, I gladly attend these celebratory nights. For the first time, I know there are no ulterior motives to these events. We women are in the spotlight. And to all those men who come to our night (and there are so many of you, sometimes even out numbering us), I want to thank you for recognizing our worth. I can see the sparkle in your eyes and read the zeal in your faces – reflections of your appreciation. Even offering to chauffeur me home after the open bar; it shows that you aren’t afraid to take up the less appealing position of caregiver, a position that in the past has only been ours. That alone is enough to make me forgive and forget the centuries of being made to feel inferior. Now we’re finally equals.

Sugar and Spice and Everything Your Mother Has Nightmares About...

.
.
.
Last time, we took a look at the scary dating prospects facing single women. Lest we forget, dating is a two-way street. Guys are faced with a similiarly dysfunctional crop of potential partners, some of whom are no more than tit-laden cock holsters and others that could induce impotence with a mere glance. Let's meet the ladies...

Heather
Age 36, Elementary School Teacher

You are bound to meet at least one teacher in the dating arena; they are beginning to outnumber illegal immigrants. It may be tempting to play out your dirty fantasy involving a hot teacher you had in high school, but resist the urge. This girl is probably willing to take it up the tailpipe and she’ll pretend to like everything you enjoy, like football or imported beer. But she’s just trying to lull you into submission. She’ll wear down your guard with crotchless panties and chocolate-flavored Anal-Ease, but once you’ve seen her naked, the casual dating phase is over. Her biological clock is pounding, she’s going Corky-Thatcher about turning 40 soon, and she’ll try to condense a three-year relationship into six months. After your third date, you’ve got tampons in your bathroom and holes in your condoms. Everything revolves around kids and her fairytale wedding. There’s no changing her mind, so don’t even bother. She won’t rest until there are five little snot-factories crying non-stop and shitting themselves like they breathe Ex-Lax. And you’ll be paying for them. You think she can afford to support her litter of brats on a teacher’s salary? Unless you’ve had a vasectomy or are an illegal immigrant in need of a green card, don’t risk a date with this one.

Jenn (yes, with two n’s)
Age 28, Hairdresser/Esthetician/Part-Time Student
One look at this girl and you’d be embarrassed to stand up in front of your grandmother. She’s drop-dead gorgeous, on the cutting edge of semi-slutty fashion, and—since it’s her job—is probably as well-groomed pubicly speaking, as the green at Pebble Beach. Nevermind the fact that she’s on her fourth community college in three years (pursuing her teaching degree, ironically) or that she can quote lines from Legally Blonde. Nope, you overlook all the obvious warning signs as Sergeant Schlong orders his 3rd Sperm Battalion to march north and occupy your brain, forcing Commander Commonsense to surrender.

It’s not until you’re spending your weekends watching marathons of "Gossip Girls" in her studio apartment with her Golden Retriever, Puddles, that you realize you’re dating a completely vapid and totally useless collection of molecules, held together by low-rise jeans, hair dye, and 7 coats of mascara. By then, it’s too late. You’re doomed to spend your days discussing how she had to de-fur a fat Greek woman at work, or which sunless tanning product gives her the “most natural” orange hue. Enjoy that, Chief. Your best bet is to learn how to ejaculate from forehead stimulation, become one of her clients, and wear two pairs of boxers when you go for a haircut. You may think this is tantamount to prostitution, but you’re wrong. Hookers charge extra for a shampooing.

Kelly
Age 23, Administrative Assistant

This recent graduate sports an impressive resume and a spectacular rack. Her librarian-like glasses are the stuff of fantasy and your dirty mind runs wild at the thought of banging her in her office’s conference room. You love the fact that she enjoys drinking as much as you do and still has that college frat-party mentality. She has a hot roommate and you’re pretty sure that they’ve shared intimate moments of sweet love during their frequent blackout-level binge drinking. You have wild sex at least twice a day and she usually passes out without any post-sex small talk. Everything seems fantastic. You’re happier than a pedophile at Chucky Cheese. However, when you discover her MySpace profile and see that she has 1893 friends (and by “friends”, I mean shirtless guys flexing) who leave comments like, “Hey hun, luv the new pix. When u gonna come up again? That night wuz awesome” you realize the ugly truth. Your girlfriend is a complete whore. She’s had more semen on her than a fleet of aircraft carriers. In college, she was voted “Most Likely to be Gang-Banged Publicly”—an award that she still has in sorority scrapbook. Continue to date her and you’ll inevitably find out that the star of your little brother's favorite amateur porn video,  "XXX_Sexy_hot_webcam_amateur_college_drunk_teen_sorority_slut_bangs_guy_in_bathroom.mpeg” is actually her. And she's the one who gave your brother his copy.




Meghan
Age 27, Marketing Associate

At first, she’s the Mercedes-Benz of single women. Sophisticated and sexy, she has class dripping out her ass. You’re actually a little intimidated by how focused and organized she seems to be. It’s probably that intimidation that makes her so attractive that you become immediately infatuated, even overlooking her full cheeks and thighs—a definite sign that she may pork up once she becomes “comfortable” in a relationship. Against your better judgment—and aside from your friends’ photoshopped images of her head on Ricki Lake’s body—you actively pursue a full-blown relationship. You poor, stupid fuck. Unlike Jay-Z, you now have 99 problems and the bitch IS one.

I feel bad for you, Son. You forgot to ask the one question every girl asks a potential mate, but every guy seems to overlook: you never asked about her last relationship. If you had, you would have discovered that her fiancé just broke off the engagement and moved to Hotlanta to pursue his dream of starting a record label. Under her cool and composed exterior, this caterpillar will emerge from her cocoon as a shark with a gun for a mouth. She’s so mad at men that she can’t even look at her father, but she has to prove to herself that she’s still the stuff of wet dreams. She won’t be ready for a relationship for at least a year, and you’re way too early on the rebound to reap any of the “re-discovering promiscuous sex phase” benefits. Too bad her little excursion into ego restoration comes at the expense of your pride.

I hope you can write off all those expensive dinners as “business expenses.”

A Few Bad Men...

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Lick THIS, United States Post Office!

Can you think of anything that requires the use of bodily fluids to function? Sure, there's Blondgirl McGlittertits, a hybrid human who runs on cocaine and semen, but I'm talking about something we use every day that needs liquid produced by our bodies to work.

Why, in a time when we can see the textured glisten of a fresh turd in digital clarity while a tranny greedily gulps it down; and watch an entire season of "Perfect Strangers" in a single sitting, are we still using saliva to adhere a stamp to an envelope?

You don't have to pick your nose and rub it all over your tax returns (and believe me, it doesn't make the IRS want to audit you any less). You don't take a dump on your license renewal form. The United States Post Office is the only government agency that relies on spit to function.

Sure, you can get those fancy new sticker stamps, but only if you buy stamps by the gross. And I don't know anyone so in love with their prison pen pal to go through that many stamps. For most of us, it's buy a stamp at the post office for the one thing we're there to mail. Then you put your coins in the machine and pull out a lickable document that will get your minimum credit card payment to Omaha by Thursday.

Envelopes aren't getting off the hook either. They've got to have a lick to work, and that's just medieval. Some envelope companies have come out with the peel-off adhesive areas. Genius. Why is this still the exception and not the rule?????

Pick out a greeting card, any of them: "Sorry I Touched You There, Nephew,"
"Congratulations On Your Retirement - Religious," "Happy Birthday, Butcher," it doesn't matter, chances are, your good intentions will be accompanied by an envelope you slobbered all over......

Moisture-activated adhesive was invented in 367 B.C. by the Chinese. Granted, the adhesive was saliva itself. Still, it should have been replaced by a superior invention centuries ago. Or, if it's so perfect, why not use it everywhere. Instead of Post-it notes, walls should be finished with lickable adhesive. Then we could lick the wall and slap a normal piece of paper up there to remind ourselves to throw out our Post-it notes.

Decades ago, when people took the time and effort to dream up a slick future scenario for a novel or film, information delivery was window dressing. "Of course licking stamps and envelopes will be obsolete by 1984", writers assumed. Even in crappy 60s sci-fi, in which robots looked like water heaters, mail was delivered via a system of "futuristic" vacuum tubes. The banks caught on, while the USPS is still relying on us for a tonguing. It's just stupid.

Sure, bodily fluids comes in handy for many personal uses that may never have been intended – spit works for spot grooming, shoe shining, light torture (a la the saliva yo-yo) and urine is good for extinguishing small fires, arctic calligraphy and hot sex - but the parcel industry needs our secretions??? I submit no - it does not.

When are we going to wake up and scream, "I'm done frenching my mail!"

Only then will we, as a society, be able to go about our bill paying, credit card applying, thank you note sending lives with a shred of dignity. Take a stand.

It was so romantic, I swooned.

Right off the bat, I'd like to announce the winner of Monday's Douchebag of The Day.

Here's how it went down:

I was at a fairly crowded pub yesterday, having a beer with a friend of mine. We were engaged in deep and philosophical conversation about religion and the meaning of life. Um... Okay, I lied. We were actually talking about lip gloss... so what? Even sarcastic and cynical girls like to look pretty. A well conditioned lip is very important, in fact it is practically a law in 48 states. Is it okay with all of you judgemental bastards if we move on now? Gee, thanks.

Anyway, out of the corner of my eye, I could see him approaching. I see him at this bar frequently. I almost talked to him once, but his attire alone told me he was "one of those". His pants were like a cheap hotel - no ballroom. They were so tight, I could make out his camelnose from a distance of thirty feet. Gross.

My plan was to make the ol' fake call to my imaginary boyfriend, but he got to me before I could retrieve my cell phone. Damn this huge purse! Damn it to the bowels of hell!

I was just about to say "I'm married. To a UFC fighter. A BIG one. Plus, I'm a lesbian. A crippled lesbian. In fact, I'm a married, crippled BLIND lesbian. Oh, and did I mention that I'm bipolar to boot? You wanna take me out?" but he beat me to the punch, and came out with this brilliant one liner:

"Have you always been this cute?" Ugh. Really? That's his big opening dazzler? I wanted to punch him in the neck. But before I could make a fist and wind up, he continued his charming introduction with another question;  "My face is leaving in 5 minutes. You wanna be on it?"

Say whaaaaaaattttt !?!?  This guy obviously has a death wish. I just sat there, speechless, debating about whether I should hurl my drink at his face, or donkey punch him in the balls. But before I knew it, I was talking. Aloud. Without knowing what I was about to say. Uh oh.

What I ended up saying was "Hell yeah big daddy! Lets go - I lovvvve to party!!! Wait. Do you have a condom? Eh, nevermind. I'm already 5 months pregnant anyway... Hey, can we grab some whiskey and a little bit of meth before we go? And I have to stop at my house because my "business manager" is supposed to come by to collect. Oh, by the way - you DO have cash on you, right?" Then I shut up and just looked at him.

He blinked a couple of times, then turned around and ran to the exit. Literally jogged... Hah! Take THAT, asshole. How'd it feel to be degraded? And I heard your friend, who was obviously embarrassed, say "You can WALK home. What the fuck! You ALWAYS gotta fuck with someone!"

So in recognition of his illustrious accomplishment, this pitiful caveman is awarded my raised middle finger, along with a two year supply of behind-the-back trashing of his character accompanied by snickering, pointing and snide remarks. It'll be impossible for him to live it down.

There's one more thing.  To honor his bravery in the face of danger (kimminentdanger, that is)  his name will be engraved on the well known and much talked about "Wall Of Scumbags None Of The Girls At Any Of The Bars and Clubs Will Ever Even THINK About Sleeping With, Even Out Of Pity or Desperation" . 

Congratulations fuckface; your parents must be so proud.


Ok - with that business out of the way, I want to announce that tomorrow's post is already in the works, and it features an actual transcript of one of the funniest conversations I've ever had via instant messaging. It DOES get a bit politically incorrect... some people may even call it insensitive and obnoxious. If you can't stand controversy, don't come around to read it.

I do have a disclaimer to protect myself from lawsuits, and will be posting it by morning.