This is exactly what it sounds like. I haven't made a list in quite a while. So, here's a list. Some of the best advice/info I ever got.
Things I Learned From The Movies
1. Never know too much about nefarious activites. You'll probably end up dead.
2. Sometimes, you're too old for this shit.
3. If someone does you wrong, don't yell at them. Do something crazy like kiss them. It'll scare them a lot more.
4. When you're kung fu fighting people in an open area, it's inevitable that doves will show up. Embrace it.
5. Love always works out, in the end.
6. Love never works out, in the end.
7. French people are weird.
8. Doing a shitload of cocaine has never been good for anyone.
9. It is a wonderful life.
10. Hitmen are great at babysitting.
11. I learned all about shrimp. Shrimp is the fruit of the sea.
12. In space, the other people who are being murdered by aliens can often hear you scream. But no one else.
13. The Holocaust was shitty.
14. Jewish people don't bowl on saturday.
15. If you run on the beach, in short shorts and tight tank tops, with your good black friend and then embrace him, in the water, you will become a better boxer.
16. If you're a cop but you don't have a buddy, it won't be fun at all.
17. Racism is shitty.
18. It's perfectly normal to burst into song, at any time.
19. People love twists. You should trick everyone you know, for a long time.
20. You can kill a pimp and get away with it.
21. War is dumb. Nothing ever happens...unless it does...and then you probably get shot in the face.
22. Always die hard. If you die easy, there's no point in living free.
23. If someone wants to take you to a creepy, deserted place, you probably shouldn't go.
24. The best weapon against hillbilly rapists is a samurai sword.
25. The janitor, at a college, is probably smarter than all the students there.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Monday, January 18, 2010
Some Bull
We're right in the middle of awards season. I've been seeing a lot of movies. I like to think of myself as pretty knowledgeable on the topic. I love movies. Thinking about them...I want to talk about a certain kind of person that I hate. People who say good movies are terrible for reasons that have nothing to do with filmmaking or anything anyone else would care about. They think the movie has some kind of agenda, like the movie thinks it's too good for them, or they think certain types of characters don't feel real, like they could never exist in all of the world, like they've never met a fucking person who was different. I also once read a review of a movie that said it's whimsy felt forced. What does that even mean? It's a movie. It's fake whimsy to begin with. A movie is a singular story. The people in it aren't trying to represent you. If you think they are, then you are an insane person. I saw a critic put Up In The Air on his worst of the year list cause he said it had "bad politics". First, it's not really about politics at all. Second, who the fuck cares what you think about it's politics? Your dumb opinion has nothing to do with whether or not it was a well made movie. I also read some bitch say that The Hangover was "mean". Mean to whom? What the fuck are you talking about?
It's like people just want to hate something cause people who know something about movies like it. Their anti-elitism becomes an even more perverse form of elitism. They think they're better than people who like oscar winners cause they think those people think they're better than them. That's way too much sociological thinking over some goddamn movies. That's not to say I like people who hate on summer blockbusters and ridiculous movies either really. Just like politics and every other thing, people will pick a side like a fucking moron. Give it a rest. Stop using movies as a measuring stick of how great a person you are. Just watch a movie like you're a kid again, like you're just watching a movie...and enjoy it or don't enjoy it, or have mixed feelings about it, based on things like performance....and pretty pictures...and music....and stop pissing me off.
Thank you for your time. I'm sure no one really cared about this, yet you read it all anyway. What a nice person you are. P.S. Crank 2: High Voltage was the best picture of the year.
It's like people just want to hate something cause people who know something about movies like it. Their anti-elitism becomes an even more perverse form of elitism. They think they're better than people who like oscar winners cause they think those people think they're better than them. That's way too much sociological thinking over some goddamn movies. That's not to say I like people who hate on summer blockbusters and ridiculous movies either really. Just like politics and every other thing, people will pick a side like a fucking moron. Give it a rest. Stop using movies as a measuring stick of how great a person you are. Just watch a movie like you're a kid again, like you're just watching a movie...and enjoy it or don't enjoy it, or have mixed feelings about it, based on things like performance....and pretty pictures...and music....and stop pissing me off.
Thank you for your time. I'm sure no one really cared about this, yet you read it all anyway. What a nice person you are. P.S. Crank 2: High Voltage was the best picture of the year.
Monday, December 28, 2009
The Point Always Cuts You, When You Don't See It Coming
"Can you make a sound to distract the nurse
Before I take a ride in the long black hearse
I don't want to die in the hospital
You gotta take me back outside"- Conor Oberst
The cold winds of death swirl around me. Every year there are more funerals, more health scares, more accidents. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being sorry for your loss. I'm sick of funeral homes. I feel that sickness. They're all so pristine and try to be so cozy for us, to make us forget that the corpse of someone we cared about is at the other end of the room. Maybe a nice peppermint hard candy will get the foul taste of mourning out of my mouth. And, sometimes, they have coupons laid out. They want your "future business" and will give you a discounted rate for being a loyal customer. If that's the way they want it, then fine...but I don't want anyone giving me the "caring for the deceased is a noble profession" bullshit or telling me what they do has anything to do with religious faith. They would just as soon throw your body in the river, if there was any money in it.
My uncle has been sick and I'm being told that he's probably gonna die within the coming year. It starts all over again; another person in and out of the hospital, another last Christmas with a loved one. My mom is a wreck. I never know what to do with this shit. I can't talk to people who are sad. Explaining any sadness you may have to a person losing someone they were actually really close to just seems kind of petty and thoughtless to me. Empathy doesn't make them feel any better.
The only person who's death I am equipped to deal with is me. And, these things make me think about it a lot. My dad was telling me what happens a lot of the time is that the doctor will give a person medication to numb the pain and they will fall asleep and just pass quietly. I'm not like most people. Anyone who's ever known me or read what I write probably knows that. I have a fear of dying in my sleep. It's one of the things I really don't like thinking about. I want to die with my boots on. Technically, I don't have boots. I guess I'll go buy some boots, wear them, and then die with them on. I don't understand the mentality of what seems the majority of people who say they want to die in their sleep. That's what you want? Cause I'm not too sure there's anything after this life and I don't accept not wanting to know it's over. That's sad. I want to live it. I want to be aware, to have final thoughts, one last monologue, an epitaph for my own existence....even if it's only to myself. I want all my favorite memories to pass before me and be able to have a realization that it was all worth getting hit by a bus, in the end. Sleep doesn't cut it. Sleeping isn't living and it's no way to die. It's the easy way out, for theological whackjobs and the philosophically bankrupt.
Being shot in the stomach and dying slowly on the pavement is the way for me. It's a poetically apt end. Your life is literally running out, right into the streets. And, I could give a big, hollywood western style speech to those around me, gasping, holding on for dear life, asking them to tell someone I love them and so on. That's beautiful to me. That's why I'm becoming progressively gangster and will soon be getting into the crack game. I figure, in these tough economic times, the best investments are glocks and rocks.
But, anyway, I guess that's just the way it is. You think about your own death but it's the other people leaving that fucks you up. Losing someone....even if they don't die actually....a falling out with a good friend, a breakup, meeting someone amazing and then never seeing them again....these things are probably worse. You have to live that death, monotonously, over and over, side by side with all the other deaths that loiter in your thoughts. I miss people who live down the street. I miss people that I still talk to. It seems a lot more pleasant to sleep through life, rather than dying. But sleeping is for suckers either way.
You're gonna have to let it all go someday anyway, it could be any day, and beautiful pieces of your world are breaking off all the time, so why would you ever want to sleep? Why would you want any moment at all, let alone the last, to go to waste? Thinking that way, you're missing things before you even miss them. What you're really missing is the point.
Before I take a ride in the long black hearse
I don't want to die in the hospital
You gotta take me back outside"- Conor Oberst
The cold winds of death swirl around me. Every year there are more funerals, more health scares, more accidents. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being sorry for your loss. I'm sick of funeral homes. I feel that sickness. They're all so pristine and try to be so cozy for us, to make us forget that the corpse of someone we cared about is at the other end of the room. Maybe a nice peppermint hard candy will get the foul taste of mourning out of my mouth. And, sometimes, they have coupons laid out. They want your "future business" and will give you a discounted rate for being a loyal customer. If that's the way they want it, then fine...but I don't want anyone giving me the "caring for the deceased is a noble profession" bullshit or telling me what they do has anything to do with religious faith. They would just as soon throw your body in the river, if there was any money in it.
My uncle has been sick and I'm being told that he's probably gonna die within the coming year. It starts all over again; another person in and out of the hospital, another last Christmas with a loved one. My mom is a wreck. I never know what to do with this shit. I can't talk to people who are sad. Explaining any sadness you may have to a person losing someone they were actually really close to just seems kind of petty and thoughtless to me. Empathy doesn't make them feel any better.
The only person who's death I am equipped to deal with is me. And, these things make me think about it a lot. My dad was telling me what happens a lot of the time is that the doctor will give a person medication to numb the pain and they will fall asleep and just pass quietly. I'm not like most people. Anyone who's ever known me or read what I write probably knows that. I have a fear of dying in my sleep. It's one of the things I really don't like thinking about. I want to die with my boots on. Technically, I don't have boots. I guess I'll go buy some boots, wear them, and then die with them on. I don't understand the mentality of what seems the majority of people who say they want to die in their sleep. That's what you want? Cause I'm not too sure there's anything after this life and I don't accept not wanting to know it's over. That's sad. I want to live it. I want to be aware, to have final thoughts, one last monologue, an epitaph for my own existence....even if it's only to myself. I want all my favorite memories to pass before me and be able to have a realization that it was all worth getting hit by a bus, in the end. Sleep doesn't cut it. Sleeping isn't living and it's no way to die. It's the easy way out, for theological whackjobs and the philosophically bankrupt.
Being shot in the stomach and dying slowly on the pavement is the way for me. It's a poetically apt end. Your life is literally running out, right into the streets. And, I could give a big, hollywood western style speech to those around me, gasping, holding on for dear life, asking them to tell someone I love them and so on. That's beautiful to me. That's why I'm becoming progressively gangster and will soon be getting into the crack game. I figure, in these tough economic times, the best investments are glocks and rocks.
But, anyway, I guess that's just the way it is. You think about your own death but it's the other people leaving that fucks you up. Losing someone....even if they don't die actually....a falling out with a good friend, a breakup, meeting someone amazing and then never seeing them again....these things are probably worse. You have to live that death, monotonously, over and over, side by side with all the other deaths that loiter in your thoughts. I miss people who live down the street. I miss people that I still talk to. It seems a lot more pleasant to sleep through life, rather than dying. But sleeping is for suckers either way.
You're gonna have to let it all go someday anyway, it could be any day, and beautiful pieces of your world are breaking off all the time, so why would you ever want to sleep? Why would you want any moment at all, let alone the last, to go to waste? Thinking that way, you're missing things before you even miss them. What you're really missing is the point.
Friday, December 4, 2009
2 Stroke Penalty
I've been thinking about this Tiger Woods situation. I never figured I'd see his life in the public eye like this. But really, I've never thought about Tiger Woods, for any reason. So, I'd say that's a sufficient explanation. Looking at his background and the mentality I presume he has about himself, it's not really surprising to me that he cheated on his wife now. But I don't see that as the story. Men cheat all the time. The angle I'm looking at is what exactly the motives are of these women who sleep with famous married men. I find that very interesting and troubling.
I know you're saying "Hey, why are you singling out the girls, you chauvinistic ne'er do well!?". Well, person that can't let me get into making a point, when's the last time you heard of some random schmuck off the street sneaking around having hot, drugged up sex with Halle Berry? You can say celebrity women just don't cheat as much and that could be very true. However, with the knowledge I have of the male brain, I'd say it could be happening everyday. If Halle Berry had an affair with a guy, he'd just be happy to be having an affair with Halle Berry. Telling people would be stupid. It could fuck up your having sex with Halle Berry plans. I wouldn't tell anyone, personally. ("Anthony, why would Halle Berry have an affair with you?". That's a question I get a lot, in my everyday life. I don't know. But Tiger was married to a Swedish supermodel and cheated with some weird looking bitch who was on the show Tool Academy, so there's some kind of precedent here, I think.) The most a guy would use the situation for is to be able to hold it over his best friends' heads forever. That's accomplishment, to a dude. Your friend gets on your case about something like "Man, you totally pussied out last night" and you're like "Yeah, maybe, but I also remember that time I pussied out Halle Berry." That doesn't even really make any sense, it's a real grammatically abstract thing to say, but he'll understand....and he'll be pissed....cause you just won. Having trump cards to play is important to guys. We enjoy the little things.
These women seem to be up to something more sinister. It's like they hope he gets caught. They want the recognition of it, from people they don't know. They want to be a ho celebrity. Tiger admits he's had transgressions and, all of a sudden, like 3 girls come out like "Hey, I had sex with him. Look over here. I'd love to damage his reputation, for some tv exposure.". From my estimation, all these girls look like the kind of girls who growing up they were told they were princesses and they were special but now they're 26 and don't fit the bill. They haven't done anything, have no skills, people don't take them seriously cause they have this fucked up perception of themselves, so....they go out and do something to get some acknowledgement. They figure "Tiger Woods could treat me like a princess.". But then Tiger Woods treats her like a prostitute, like the pimp he is(Tiger Woods is an immaculate pimp name if I've ever heard one), and then she decides to use him to make herself famous so she can make a bunch of money and finally get her jewel encrusted tiara. (By the way, I didn't even think this theory through beforehand at all but it's making so much sense to me right now.)
What I'm saying is that it's really bad parenting. It's bad parenting on both ends. I'm not letting Tiger off the hook either. We caught him by the toe and we're not gonna let him go. He cheated a bunch of times and that's douchey, any way you slice it. But growing up, he probably did nothing but golf, he was pushed in that direction, and he never learned how to be a human being....just a golfing machine. If people took the job of parenting more seriously and taught their children to have good, personal beliefs and the ability to respect themselves and others, there would be less of this. Don't fill your daughter's head with thoughts of being a princess either...unless she is, of course....real princesses usually turn out to be pretty nice people actually. So, teach your children to be good. If you don't have children but you know someone with children, teach their children. If you don't know anyone with children, steal one from someone who looks like a fuckhead. We don't want them growing up and filling a poor Swedish supermodel with sadness.
P.S. Another lesson I find in this story is that arrogance never pays. This motherfucker leaves a message on a girl's phone like "Hey, this is Tiger. My wife is suspicious. Take your name off your voicemail.". No, cause that could never come back to haunt you. It was probably one of the million other guys named after a jungle cat. You should've left your address and social security number too. Fucking asshole.
I know you're saying "Hey, why are you singling out the girls, you chauvinistic ne'er do well!?". Well, person that can't let me get into making a point, when's the last time you heard of some random schmuck off the street sneaking around having hot, drugged up sex with Halle Berry? You can say celebrity women just don't cheat as much and that could be very true. However, with the knowledge I have of the male brain, I'd say it could be happening everyday. If Halle Berry had an affair with a guy, he'd just be happy to be having an affair with Halle Berry. Telling people would be stupid. It could fuck up your having sex with Halle Berry plans. I wouldn't tell anyone, personally. ("Anthony, why would Halle Berry have an affair with you?". That's a question I get a lot, in my everyday life. I don't know. But Tiger was married to a Swedish supermodel and cheated with some weird looking bitch who was on the show Tool Academy, so there's some kind of precedent here, I think.) The most a guy would use the situation for is to be able to hold it over his best friends' heads forever. That's accomplishment, to a dude. Your friend gets on your case about something like "Man, you totally pussied out last night" and you're like "Yeah, maybe, but I also remember that time I pussied out Halle Berry." That doesn't even really make any sense, it's a real grammatically abstract thing to say, but he'll understand....and he'll be pissed....cause you just won. Having trump cards to play is important to guys. We enjoy the little things.
These women seem to be up to something more sinister. It's like they hope he gets caught. They want the recognition of it, from people they don't know. They want to be a ho celebrity. Tiger admits he's had transgressions and, all of a sudden, like 3 girls come out like "Hey, I had sex with him. Look over here. I'd love to damage his reputation, for some tv exposure.". From my estimation, all these girls look like the kind of girls who growing up they were told they were princesses and they were special but now they're 26 and don't fit the bill. They haven't done anything, have no skills, people don't take them seriously cause they have this fucked up perception of themselves, so....they go out and do something to get some acknowledgement. They figure "Tiger Woods could treat me like a princess.". But then Tiger Woods treats her like a prostitute, like the pimp he is(Tiger Woods is an immaculate pimp name if I've ever heard one), and then she decides to use him to make herself famous so she can make a bunch of money and finally get her jewel encrusted tiara. (By the way, I didn't even think this theory through beforehand at all but it's making so much sense to me right now.)
What I'm saying is that it's really bad parenting. It's bad parenting on both ends. I'm not letting Tiger off the hook either. We caught him by the toe and we're not gonna let him go. He cheated a bunch of times and that's douchey, any way you slice it. But growing up, he probably did nothing but golf, he was pushed in that direction, and he never learned how to be a human being....just a golfing machine. If people took the job of parenting more seriously and taught their children to have good, personal beliefs and the ability to respect themselves and others, there would be less of this. Don't fill your daughter's head with thoughts of being a princess either...unless she is, of course....real princesses usually turn out to be pretty nice people actually. So, teach your children to be good. If you don't have children but you know someone with children, teach their children. If you don't know anyone with children, steal one from someone who looks like a fuckhead. We don't want them growing up and filling a poor Swedish supermodel with sadness.
P.S. Another lesson I find in this story is that arrogance never pays. This motherfucker leaves a message on a girl's phone like "Hey, this is Tiger. My wife is suspicious. Take your name off your voicemail.". No, cause that could never come back to haunt you. It was probably one of the million other guys named after a jungle cat. You should've left your address and social security number too. Fucking asshole.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Drinking It All In
I hate nicknames. I've always hated them. I like calling things what they are. I think there's a certain respect associated with calling you Joe, Megan, Alex Mack, Mr. T., whatever your name may be. Nicknames, in my estimation, are given either to those you love or those you love to mock the existance of. People who are incredibly average don't usually have nicknames. Sure, their friends might call them by their last name or an abbreviated version of their name...or maybe even a play on words, with their name...something like "Nate Dogg" or "A-Dogg" or "Ker-Bear" or other animal related handles...but nothing spectacular. I don't like that either. That actually goes against everything I stand for. If someone is nice and they introduce themselves with their last name, I'll oblige them. That's their choice. But I don't like it. Anytime I call someone by any kind of nickname, it's laced with irony....cause I'm just postmodern like that...and I don't like people telling me what to do.
A working environment is a hotbed for nicknaming. You can go from Dan to "Buttfuck Princess" within days, depending on who you're around. I worked with a "Porkchop", a guy named "Muscles" cause he would get mad, flex, and walk out, on a regular basis....I, myself, actually unceremoniously christened a kid "Tower of Power" cause two different girls tried having sex with him and he couldn't get an erection. It was too great a thought for even me to pass up. This kid Mike was the king of nicknames though. Everyone made fun of him so often he must have 17 nicknames. I can't even remember most of them. "Final Fantasy" and "Poopdick" come to mind. I once said to him that his mother was a blowup doll and his father was a frankenstein, but that's not necessarily a nickname....more of a statement of fact.
I got that job cause a good friend of mine, at the time, worked there. So, the one day I was working, washing dishes, and then it happened. I was taking my good old time with it and my friend called me "Slow Juice". Now, it's almost 6 years later and I'm still not even really sure what that means....but it stuck. Partially, cause it flows off the tongue pretty easily but, mostly, cause a loudmouthed egomaniac who was there wouldn't ever let it go. So, I had to live with it. I did something unexpected though, which was I got really great at everything, faster than everyone else, and it was decided to drop the "slow". I had, in a way, conquered my pathetic, mocking nickname.
Time went on, I eventually quit, but here's the problem: I still know some people from that time that call me "Juice". And, sure, I long ago came up with O.J. Simpson related jokes for it and it's a lot of fun but when I meet their friends, they'll invariably refer to me by that ridiculous name. Now, personally, for instance, if I'm being introduced to a cute girl I don't really want their first impression of me to be "the guy named after a fruit's nectar". I would rather get dysentery or maybe put my dick in a toaster, honestly. So, then I have to work up to that level of humanity where I can be called Anthony or Tony. It's doing nothing but causing me grief.
I understand where it's coming from though. People want to connect with other people, they enjoy humor and acknowledgement, and those are the feelings it's rooted in. So, even though I don't want to call you "Tornado", or "Big Daddy", or "Skunk Pussy", I accept it. It might improve another guy's shitty day. Sometimes, you dislike something but it makes other people happy and you let it go. You have to pick your battles.
All in all, I guess what I'm saying is legalize weed, prostitution, and gay marriage.
A working environment is a hotbed for nicknaming. You can go from Dan to "Buttfuck Princess" within days, depending on who you're around. I worked with a "Porkchop", a guy named "Muscles" cause he would get mad, flex, and walk out, on a regular basis....I, myself, actually unceremoniously christened a kid "Tower of Power" cause two different girls tried having sex with him and he couldn't get an erection. It was too great a thought for even me to pass up. This kid Mike was the king of nicknames though. Everyone made fun of him so often he must have 17 nicknames. I can't even remember most of them. "Final Fantasy" and "Poopdick" come to mind. I once said to him that his mother was a blowup doll and his father was a frankenstein, but that's not necessarily a nickname....more of a statement of fact.
I got that job cause a good friend of mine, at the time, worked there. So, the one day I was working, washing dishes, and then it happened. I was taking my good old time with it and my friend called me "Slow Juice". Now, it's almost 6 years later and I'm still not even really sure what that means....but it stuck. Partially, cause it flows off the tongue pretty easily but, mostly, cause a loudmouthed egomaniac who was there wouldn't ever let it go. So, I had to live with it. I did something unexpected though, which was I got really great at everything, faster than everyone else, and it was decided to drop the "slow". I had, in a way, conquered my pathetic, mocking nickname.
Time went on, I eventually quit, but here's the problem: I still know some people from that time that call me "Juice". And, sure, I long ago came up with O.J. Simpson related jokes for it and it's a lot of fun but when I meet their friends, they'll invariably refer to me by that ridiculous name. Now, personally, for instance, if I'm being introduced to a cute girl I don't really want their first impression of me to be "the guy named after a fruit's nectar". I would rather get dysentery or maybe put my dick in a toaster, honestly. So, then I have to work up to that level of humanity where I can be called Anthony or Tony. It's doing nothing but causing me grief.
I understand where it's coming from though. People want to connect with other people, they enjoy humor and acknowledgement, and those are the feelings it's rooted in. So, even though I don't want to call you "Tornado", or "Big Daddy", or "Skunk Pussy", I accept it. It might improve another guy's shitty day. Sometimes, you dislike something but it makes other people happy and you let it go. You have to pick your battles.
All in all, I guess what I'm saying is legalize weed, prostitution, and gay marriage.
Thursday, November 5, 2009
It Is What It Is, Baby
I feel like I need to warn you of something. My friendship is not unconditional. There is one big rule. If you want to continue being my friend, don't have a baby. That's not a part of the plan, ok? I'm not trying to go hang out some place where there's a baby; they cry, they do disgusting things, they interrupt our conversation, their asses challenge your senses to fights, they're fucking assholes. "Oh, he doesn't know any better", I hear you saying, in the future. Well, who cares? What he feels about what he's doing is irrelevant. He's just a stupid baby. That's why I blame you, for bringing him home. I believe they call that irreconcilable differences. You don't mind being annoyed constantly and I am against it. It's ok. We can agree to disagree...but don't expect me to be coming over for stew anytime soon.
We can hang out again, at some point. I'll say once the kid is like 14 years old. So, you'll get some time to think about what you've done and realize I was right. If you have any more kids, in the meantime, that could complicate things. You might never see me, for the rest of your life. I'm just saying, keep me in mind when you're getting down.
Another problem with having babies is inevitably you become the asshole. The kids start off as the assholes but, at some point, you become the mom or dad that embarrasses and annoys your child so much they entertain thoughts about what a bottle of sleeping pills tastes like. And, watching that, as an outsider, is as difficult as dealing with a baby. Seeing someone who was your friend think they're being cool and making a jackass out of themselves in front of children....it's just heartbreaking. Go ahead, say "That won't be me. Me and my kids will be pals". You're halfway to disaster, friend. The only way to be pals with your kids is to smoke weed with them. And then, they'll just turn out to be mentally defective deadbeats.
So, in conclusion, having a baby not only ruins your life and our friendship but, more than likely, it will ruin the baby's life before it's ever born. I mean...we're friends....do you think someone who's friends with me would be a fit parent? It's laughable really. Just smarten up and leave those eggs unfertilized. I will throw you an enjoyment of living shower.
We can hang out again, at some point. I'll say once the kid is like 14 years old. So, you'll get some time to think about what you've done and realize I was right. If you have any more kids, in the meantime, that could complicate things. You might never see me, for the rest of your life. I'm just saying, keep me in mind when you're getting down.
Another problem with having babies is inevitably you become the asshole. The kids start off as the assholes but, at some point, you become the mom or dad that embarrasses and annoys your child so much they entertain thoughts about what a bottle of sleeping pills tastes like. And, watching that, as an outsider, is as difficult as dealing with a baby. Seeing someone who was your friend think they're being cool and making a jackass out of themselves in front of children....it's just heartbreaking. Go ahead, say "That won't be me. Me and my kids will be pals". You're halfway to disaster, friend. The only way to be pals with your kids is to smoke weed with them. And then, they'll just turn out to be mentally defective deadbeats.
So, in conclusion, having a baby not only ruins your life and our friendship but, more than likely, it will ruin the baby's life before it's ever born. I mean...we're friends....do you think someone who's friends with me would be a fit parent? It's laughable really. Just smarten up and leave those eggs unfertilized. I will throw you an enjoyment of living shower.
Friday, October 16, 2009
I Can't Believe Those Boobs
Ok, there was this big ordeal I was reading about a couple days ago involving Meghan McCain, hot daughter of Arizona's senator/oldest living man, John McCain. She took a picture of herself reading a book, in a tanktop, and posted it on Twitter. The fact that she has quite large breasts lead to the fact that you noticed them. Now, apparently, this outraged people? I've seen breasts in tanktops many times, in my life, and I have never once been outraged. I assure you. If you are, then I think you have deep rooted problems with rage, in general. Maybe a nun hit you with a book or maybe your mom's breasts liked to drink whiskey and knock you around. I don't know. But I'm getting away from the point. I was actually outraged, myself, at one part of this story. She actually apologized. I assume some man in a suit came to her that night and told her if she loved her dog, she needs to say she's sorry or something shady like that. He probably ended the conversation with "Oh, hey, by the way....nice breasts.". But the idea that this is something someone needed to apologize for is astonishing to me. I don't agree with it. If I become famous, I will not apologize for any dumb shit. I'll tell the public I'm sorry they're assholes, if anything, if something like this pops up.
But seriously, I have decided to compile a list of things that I actually would apologize for and genuinely be sorry about, should I become famous. And, here it is:
1. Accidentally shooting people
2. If I somehow ruin a hockey game
3. Tripping and dropping a brick on your baby
4. Being in a movie that really sucks
5. Getting wasted and freeing dangerous animals from the zoo
6. Starting a hotel fire
7. Driving a car into a mall and running over a teenage girl's shopping bags
8. Having sex with Amy Winehouse in public (setting a bad example)
9. Taking my pants off on Nickelodeon
10. Burning you with coffee
11. Melting America's candy supply with a series of bad decisions, involving a laser
12. The Jay Leno Show(Not really my place, but someone has to)
13. Referring to something as "Phat"
14. Dating Jennifer Aniston, just because it was my turn
15. Letting my wife name my child after a fruit, vegetable, or motor vehicle
16. Failing to enjoy lovely breasts in a tanktop
I was gonna say something about interrupting Taylor Swift....but no.....you don't do that. You love Taylor Swift and make Taylor Swift feel good and never hurt her.
But seriously, I have decided to compile a list of things that I actually would apologize for and genuinely be sorry about, should I become famous. And, here it is:
1. Accidentally shooting people
2. If I somehow ruin a hockey game
3. Tripping and dropping a brick on your baby
4. Being in a movie that really sucks
5. Getting wasted and freeing dangerous animals from the zoo
6. Starting a hotel fire
7. Driving a car into a mall and running over a teenage girl's shopping bags
8. Having sex with Amy Winehouse in public (setting a bad example)
9. Taking my pants off on Nickelodeon
10. Burning you with coffee
11. Melting America's candy supply with a series of bad decisions, involving a laser
12. The Jay Leno Show(Not really my place, but someone has to)
13. Referring to something as "Phat"
14. Dating Jennifer Aniston, just because it was my turn
15. Letting my wife name my child after a fruit, vegetable, or motor vehicle
16. Failing to enjoy lovely breasts in a tanktop
I was gonna say something about interrupting Taylor Swift....but no.....you don't do that. You love Taylor Swift and make Taylor Swift feel good and never hurt her.
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