Its always sad when somebody you know feels that their life is so irreversably fucked up that the only way out is to end it all.Some people do it for attention (not to be a master of the obvious, but the thing about suicide is it's a trick you can only pull once...), some do it as an escape, some do it they think any change in their life is an improvement. I don't think it's the answer in almost any case, but if the last one is true, then by all means, chug those pills, aim that cell phone at that cop, go to that biker bar and push all the Harleys out front over before pissing on them, text while driving...you have as much right to die as anyone else.
However, if the thought of how your family/friends/followers would feel (and trust me, they will feel horrible...sometimes even bad enough to follow in your footsteps that lead across an 8-lane highway at night, making you indirectly responsible for the death of someone you care about...is that what you want?) does nothing for you, there's one thing you should realize before you pull the trigger...just like you never expected your life to turn out bad enough for you to want to off yourself, you never know when something worth living for will fall into your life. Sure yesterday sucked, today might suck...but tomorrow could be the day your life becomes worth waking up for, and if you wake up dead, you'll miss it.
Hell, I can't even say the thought has never skipped across my mind. (Not now, I'm fine...lol...) Shit happens in life...to everybody, including my happy-go-lifted ass, and sometimes your natural response is to want to give up, pack it in, check out...but eventually you get over it. You can get past pretty much anything in life, but if you never present yourself a future...how can you find out? I love the holy hell out of my life, and I can't wait to see what happens next...even if you don't feel that way now, right this minute...you can one day, and I really think that's worth living for. Just think about that before you jump.
Continuing in the proud tradition of blaming made up Negroes for illegal shit, Conrad Zdzierak, 30, of southern Ohio decided to rob banks while wearing a movie-quality mask of a black man (that kind of looks like Mos Def and Bill Cosby had a weird grown-ass fusion baby) to throw authorities off his trail. Now, on one hand...I'll give dude credit for ingenuity, I gotta admit it was pretty slick. Obviously, if you see a black person commit a crime, you're not gonna go out and look for a white guy as a suspect, (that only works the other way around :p ) so on that level it worked well.
However, my problem should be obvious to anybody who has ever seen a picture of me...there's a long rhetorical question (and probably a couple of jokes and asides in parentheses) to explain it, but I'll sum it up thusly: "Damn, why he had to be black though?" He couldn't have gotten a mask of a Asian dude or a Indian guy or...another, different looking white dude? Apparently, Sgt. Robert Ralston ain't the only person that thinks black folk make believable fall guys for cover-ups...seems like black is the new black when it comes to criminal conspiracy. Don't we pay a high enough price to permanently wear black people faces without mafuckas chargin shit to our account? I wonder...
However, it's all fun and games until the wrong shit gets taped. It seems like every day the idea that you can fuck yourself over, under, sideways, backwards and diagonally with the things you choose to record gets driven into the heads of most folk, but for some that doesn't become clear until they've been fucked completely into submission. (A local news event from a while back comes to mind...an up and coming rapper decided to videotape himself breaking the law in various ways before putting it on the $5 "hood DVD" that he stood outside Fresh Grocer or whatever selling to passerby...even if you haven't heard the story, I'm sure you know how it ends...the cops eventually got ahold of it and had all the evidence they needed to put dude's album on hold for a few years...) The shit goes down, and it could happen to you.
News flash: other people can see your YouTube videos too, your mammy, your future ex-wife, even your boss (especially your boss...you could be a dickhead laureate and videotape some stupidity on the job, upload it to the internet using a work computer, and end up losing the internet for your whole fuckin building and being luckier than a four leaf rabbit foot wearing a horseshoe that you didn't lose your damn job...not that that's something I'm currently experiencing from a 3rd party perspective and is the inspiration for this post or anything...) so you might wanna think about that before you press "record".
The video phone, while awesome for reasons both related and unrelated to Beyonce, can be dangerous for those not ready to wield it...and to be honest, some folk just ain't. (Its like when a crackhead hits the lottery...I mean sure, great...it's awesome that he's $260 million dollars richer now, but you know exactly what he's gonna do with it...he's gonna cop a rock so big it has to be brought in on a flatbed truck and OD by the end of the day. Blessing/curse.) Fact is, recording random dumb shit is fun--trust me, I do it like I get paid for it--and if you draw on yourself I have no qualms about making it a motion picture, but you have to be responsible about the dumb shit you record...especially if you're involved in it. Women lie, men lie, cameras don't lie...you know, just sayin.
Just when I think I can't love yall any more, another Wednesday rolls around...lawd...
did u have an american pie moment with that kfc monstrosity? it sounded like it lol...
If you had to die tomorrow, would you be happy with your sexual experiences in life?
would u ever get a tatof ur girl's name?
how's your girl Patrice doin lmao
What fucks me up about it is I really think these people believe they're being considerate by leaving a cut of your damn food for you. You know these people I'm talking about...that roommate who eats all your cereal and leaves you with half a bowl in the box (or worse, opens your Lucky Charms, then picks out and eats all 17 marshmallows in that bitch), or that co-worker who will raid your lunch if you leave it in the fridge at work. (I actually once heard tell in these halls of a dustball mafucka who opened somebody's box of pizza, took a bite out of one slice, and put it back...who the fuck does that? Pure disrespect...fool, if you don't eat the rest of that damn slice I'm gonna beat your ass worse than if I had just caught you taking the whole thing...) Not cool, dude...not cool.
These people need to be stopped for their own good. Apparently, some people don't watch the news too much. Don't you know you can get killed for doing nothing in twentyten? Why would you place yourself in harm's way by doing...something? (Especially when it comes to food...I know folk who will wrestle you to the ground over a Cinnabon or happily impale you through the face with a iron spork for the last chicken wing...you don't fuck around with people's grub...hell hath no fury like a hungry person...) Stealing somebody's food is a quick recipe for disaster under any circumstances, but please...if you're gonna do it, just take the whole thing...at least then I can pretend somebody broke into my crib and admired my taste in edibles so much he didn't steal anything else or some shit. Its much less painful than the thought of somebody I know huddled in a dark corner ravenously shoving my misappropriated munchies in their face like a homeless person that just ran out of Super Fresh with a stolen Amoroso roll...just sayin.
I think the logo for Major League Baseball is pretty cool...iconic,easily recognized, classic...but after a while at staring at it (on the back of like half of the hats I own...I'm surprised I didn't peep sooner...) I can't be the only one who's noticed that this man has no chance in hell at hitting that ball. I mean, the thing's about to hit him right in his silhouetted jaw and he hasn't even started to swing. Dude's reaction time sucks...he has no business on a major league anything...lol...
A lot of people are shocked to find out I'm not a Christian. I was born into a Christian family, I was raised Christian, I went to Catholic school (mass 3 times a week, confession, fully clothed ruler spankings...all that good stuff...) as a kid...I even have a very, very Christian-sounding government name (which is why I go by "AJ", there's not too many of those in the bible) ...but I'm not. Even more scandalous, I'm not even 100% sure there is a God.
I would like to believe, but the dude's never talked to me...if he's real, he created me with enough mental capacity to ask questions and obtain proof before committing to anything, especially something as important as...you know...my eternal fate after I die. (Whenever you wanna chat, just holla, big guy...or girl...)
It's not something I throw out on a first date, usually people hear that and red flags go up and I'm automatically some degenerate, debaucherous, irreligious asshole with no moral compass whatsoever. Some even go as far as to say anybody who doesn't believe in what they believe will suffer a horrible fate in the afterlife. (Its crazy...do you realize if that line of thought is true, Ghandi, great and peaceful man that he was, is crisping up in the fires of hell right now? That doesn't make any damn sense. I really hate that...how is somebody a bad person because they believe something different about something that nobody knows for a fact?
That's like getting in an office tournament pool and hating anybody who picks a different team than you to win it all...mafucka, neither of y'all KNOW who's gonna win!) That's not true...I have a moral compass, thxmuch...in fact I do have a religion...its just that only I am officially a member for now. (Which doesn't make it any less credible...at one time the only Christian was Jesus.) I refer to that belief system as Anthonism.
Now, before you go off on me about self-worship and other shit that implies that you need to read the whole thing before commenting, it's not about that at all (even though if you're gonna say basically say "good job!" to somebody and thank them for all their work in your life...it might as well be you if you don't know who else to address it to). It does have a few rules about not bothering men during sporting events and the mandatory ingestion of sacramental nachos, but that's not what it's really about either. It's more of a karma type thing. I firmly believe the things you do will come back to you...the worst thing you've ever done, your monthly good Samaritan moment, and everything in between. It may not be today or tomorrow, but that shit will come back.
In Anthonism, we recognize that people ain't perfect. They weren't born that way, they don't live that way, and if they were perfect when they died, they wouldn't be dead, now would they? I think the universe will give you what you put into it...if you generally do more good than harm (or try to...I feel like whatever system of balance there is, whether it be an entity or a force of some kind can sense the intentions behind your actions) you'll be aight. If you're a person who goes around trying to hurt people, you're fucked.
Simple as that...no services (if God is everywhere all the time, why do you have to go to church to talk to him?), no induction or excommunication (you believe when you believe and when you no longer do, you don't...you can think for yourself, right?) no official ceremonies (you don't even HAVE to get married...if you and your partner know the nature of your relationship, that's good enough...) it just is what it is. It's simple enough for me to keep track of while being structured enough to keep me at least reasonably fit to live in a society. I like my unorganized religion...
What distanced me from "the real church", (Ever notice that the only religion people think has any credibility is their own? Everything else is "mythology" and "folklore"...um, you know at one time the bible was just a popular storybook too, right? Just sayin...) you may ask?
Was it the fact that some of the worst people in the world show up to church every Sunday, saved and sanctified? No...that helped, but it wasn't THE reason. Was it the fact that some of my recreational lifestyle choices conflict with traditional religious views? Nope...if I believed that my god would really have a problem with it, I wouldn't do it. (If there is a God, I don't really think he gives a holy shit if I smoke or not...if he created it, he made it do what it does for a reason...in my opinion anyway. He or She would have much more important concerns, like that oil spill or those earthquakes...) It's not that serious to either of us. Did the "we're right, and everybody else is wrong" thing get to me? Nope...I can be a little opinionated myself sometimes. So...what?
Basically, I think the whole way some folk view their deity of choice is just wrong. A lot of religious people seem to see their god as a jealous girlfriend, somebody that will get mad at you for having a little fun or looking at other girls, even out of curiousity. (They make God seem so petty and insecure...really, if you have some doll you brought from a souvenir shop in another country, it's an idol and he's gonna get mad and send you to hell? That seems a bit extreme...like breaking up with your boyfriend because you find a King or Maxim magazine in his room.) That really doesn't sound like somebody I want to worship.
All that aside, what doomed me in the church was the question "why?" Why does God seem to hate all the same people y'all hate? Why would God knowingly make imperfect creations and punish them forever for making harmless but imperfect choices? Why would God be upset just because I recognize that the beliefs of others have merit? Why would God ever be fine with some of his children killing others in his name? The thing about the church is they don't like too many "whys"...anything you ask that doesn't have an answer they'll tell you to "take on faith".
If you read umf or know me at all, you know "why" is one of my favorite words..."taking it on faith" doesn't answer the damn question, and that just doesn't work for me. Until I get something I can believe with my own eyes, "faith" is just a synonym for "I don't know"...and I don't. Nobody alive does. But what I know I can believe in is myself...and that's why I'm a proud Anthonist.
Well, I finally did it to myself. The sandwich my momma warned me about. (No, really, she called me and told me that the new KFC sandwich was an instant heart attack...I didn't believe her til I saw it myself.) I knew it was no good from the time I first saw it, but I didn't care. My attraction to it skipped my brain, where logical thought and common sense live...it took the express road to my heart, which is quite a bit lower. (Yeah, we're still talkin about food...I think...) I tried to play cool, wait it out a couple weeks...I wasn't gonna chase it, I didn't wanna look desperate...but I wasn't fooling anybody. I wanted it bad and everybody could see it.
I thought about picking it up and coming back to work, but I just imagined the stares and whispers around my desk as they witnessed our forbidden love. So I stole away, copping an excuse of "going to SaladWorks" or some other wholesome activity. My supervisor gave me a knowing look, but let me pass anyway...she knew I was up to no good. I got on the train that would take me to our meeting place, the Gallery. Nobody would see us there...we could just blend into the crowd and have our fun uninhibited. (Anyplace you see a guy dressed like this
on some ole regular shit, a black guy eating chicken is gonna go unnoticed...however unorthodox the dish may be.)
I walked up to the KFC in the food court and my heart started beating faster. (It was probably my heart processing what my brain was thinking about using my mouth to put into my body and shifting into overdrive in anticipation of hard work...) After a quick look around to see if anybody was watching, I committed myself to the deed in what was almost a whisper: "Lemme get a Double Down." The cashier looked at me kind of funny upon hearing my lifestyle choice and for a second I felt the shame of a man pacing around an adult video store with his trenchcoat collar pulled up to his ears. Then she asked the question: original or grilled? I looked at the choices, and decided that I might as well wrap it up...uh...get it breaded. "Original..." came my anxious reply.
I walked it over to our love den (an out-of-the way booth) and slowly unhooked its box. There it was...2 pieces of chicken, 2 pieces of bacon, 2 pieces of cheese. No bread...and yet it's bold enough to call itself a sandwich. Society says exposing one's meat is unacceptable, and that a decent sandwich should be modest and cover its goodies with bread. Not the Double Down...it puts itself out there as exactly what it is, and makes no apologies for it. It's a rebel, and I admit there's something very alluring about that. It beckoned me with the scent of its perfume (mmm, bacon...) My mind was telling my no, but my stomach was telling me yes. Finally, I could fight it no more...I locked it in a passionate embrace.
I knew it would never lead anywhere, and our relationship was not built to last, but the 10 minute (don't look at me like that, it was a quickie, I had to get back to work!) experience was like nothing I'd ever had before. When my lips were on its skin, there was no separation of fowl and swine, no right, no wrong, no rules...there was just the Double Down. It was so wrong, and I knew with every chew I was doing something I might regret later, but while it lasted, it was magic. By the time I was finished, I could barely move and felt just a little dirty...but I was so satisfied. I may never see it again (seriously, I think more than 1 every 3 months will kill you all kinds of dead, and they're probably gonna take it off the menu by July) but the time we shared, I won't soon forget. Just...you know...let's keep this on the hush, k? (My mom would be so ashamed if she knew...)
I was in the liq store the other day looking for something to balance myself with, but I was kinda short on cash. (we get paid at odd intervals here...sometimes there will be like 3 weeks between checks and the bottle budget gets a little tight after week 2...being a alcohobbyist is rewarding, but expensive...) I wasn't gonna subject myself to Bankers Club gin or anything, but I didn't exactly have Henny bread. Luckily, the store was having a sale on certain items, one of which was Pinnacle cherry lemonade vodka.
I've had Pinnacle before, the actual quality of the vodka makes it one of Smirnoff's cousins (not great, not bad either) but what caught my eye is both the new flavor and the 11 dollar price tag...eh, good enough. I decided to roll the dice on it, and if I didn't like it I wouldn't feel bad about taking the loss. (No, not pouring it out or anything, that's madness...I would finish it anyway and be mad because I could have put those monies toward a better bottle. Just clearing that up.) After getting it home, I sipped a little just to see how it tasted by itself. It wasn't too cold, I had had kind of a hard day which made chilling it take too long from my perspective, but there wasn't much of a burn anyway, it was smooth...if I gave you a shot and lied and said the bottle was $25, you might believe me.
As far as the flavor, the cherry taste was stronger, but not overwhelming...though the lemon made an appearance too. It's quite tasty...and at 70 proof, will put you politely on your back pockets after enough of the stuff. I wondered what I could mix it with...my first thought was Sprite, but I checked the fridge and some asshole (that's typing this right now) didn't get any. There was only a 20oz bottle of Mountain Dew that was left by some forgetful visitor. (I don't even really drink that shit lol)
Fuckit...it was there...I took 2 shots of the Pinnacle and put it with a 3rd of a bottle of Mountain Dew. I tried it and expected the worst...but it was actually good. Very good. (It needed a name...I thought back to when I was a kid and my parents sometimes bought off-brand food and drink to save a few bucks, and that one of these was a Mountain Dew analogue named "Mountain Holler". I think that'll work.)
I imagine it would corrupt other juices nicely too, since cherry and lemon work well with many flavors...or hell, you could just take delicious and powerful shots. Overall, I'd say if you like flavored vodkas, or just want to get sillified on the cheap, this is one to pick up...in my opinion, it's the best of the Pinnacle line. I'm getting another tonight...you should too.
The old saying goes that if it's too good to be true, it usually is, and that's no different here. These dim bulbs hadn't sprouted intellect or a sense of humor at all, they just had an app for that!
Yes, a new Facebook app known as "Status Shuffle" will give you the appearance of being clever and engaging with just the click of a button...simply press 'shuffle' to get randomly generated, personal sounding quips like "weekend forecast: 100% chance of drinking on Friday with a chance of making it rain on Saturday", "is wondering why things mailed by ship are cargo and things mailed by car are shipments" and "is driving the crazy bus...who wants a ride?" (I imagine there's a huge office somewhere with thousands of little cubicles where they force an army of unpaid internet sweatshoppers to come up with funny statuses for the app. Chained to a laptop, overseers with arms folded standinng under a big ass sign that says "MORE PUNS MEANS LESS BEATING"...the whole 9...anyway...)
That's cheating! (As far as the game of Facebook goes, it's the same thing as steroids in baseball...it's not fair to those of us who do things the right way, who earn our *like*s and comments the old-fashioned way, with talent, hard thought, and intoxication...) How are there people whose minds are so bare of independent thought, whose senses of humor are that frail and underdeveloped, that they need a personality-enhancer to make giggles online? Are we really at the point in society where people can't even be quirky and original by themselves? Can they even appreciate the humor they post? What's the point of having a personality profile if you don't have any...personality? The damn status box says "what's on your mind"...YOURS. Just sayin.
1) After being attacked, (this is purely a defensive maneuver, don't go puttin folk on the Express that didn't do anything, that's bad karma...) draw attention to the fact that you have been accosted. Anything from "Sir, I demand satisfaction for the injury you have done me!" to "Ay, dude what the fuck!" will work here...use your own personal taste.
2) With your dominant arm, cock your elbow and raise it shoulder high. Twist your torso in that direction to generate potential energy for step 3.
3) Swing the cocked elbow with as much force as you can muster directly at the jaw/temple of your foe. This is called an "elbow smash" and stuns your opponent so that you can perform the rest of the move with minimal resistance. (If you're too short to elbow smash your opponent in the face, you're probably not strong enough for steps 4-7 either...just kick the guy in the shins and walk away.)
4) Lunge at your target while they're still stunned from the elbow smash. With both hands, grab them by the front of their shirt under the shoulders slightly outside the collarbone. This is a critical step, failure to establish a firm grip will result in a loss of control and throw off the rest of the process. Place your feet shoulder width apart to form a power base for step 5.
5) While ensuring to bend your knees for maximum power and comfort, hoist your victim onto the bartop. Drop them face down of the surface of the bar. (Optionally, a second stun tactic can be performed here to ensure their cooperation. Grab the back of their head with both hands and dash the target's face into the bartop. This will give you about 5-10 more seconds to adjust your technique should you need to do so.) Grip the waistband on the pants with one hand and the collar of the shirt with the other. If possible, use the dominant hand for the waistband...it's the equivalent of rear wheel drive on a car.
6) All aboard! With your grip established on your foe, begin to run towards the end of the bar, dragging your helpless opponent down the surface. If you're drank-conscious like me, you can weave your opponent in and out to avoid upsetting the dranks of others, but if you're going for effect, you can just bulldoze them through so Grand Marnier, Blue Moon and pineapple juice gets all in their eyes and shit.
7) At the end of the bartop, give the poor asshole one final heave, sending them careening into the wall. Some find it satisfying at this point to deliver a line over the victim's slumped, lifeless body such as "last call, dickhead", "this round's on you", "you just got served"...but that's up to you. The guy is just as fucked up either way.
There you go! Now you know the powerful secret of the Bartop Express. Work on this Special Move in your spare time, and you too can be prepared next time somebody grabs a beer bottle by the neck with the intention of breaking it over the bartop to form a crude poking device.
Sgt. Robert Ralston, a member of Philly's finest, was wounded in the line of duty last month while on a routine patrol in West Philadelphia. He was hit once in the shoulder, but was able to make a full recovery. The culprits were 2 as-yet-unidentified black males, who absconded after shooting Ralston in cold blood and leaving him for dead. Ralston, a brave officer who took a bullet while attempting to protect and serve Philly's dangerous streets, is a hero and deserves commendation for his valor in the face of danger.
Well, in Sgt. Robert Ralston's mind anyway. Reality tells a different tale in which the bullet that wounded him came from his own gun, Ralston was never in any danger that he didn't put his own fool ass in, and the black males who so cruelly shot an officer of the law not only weren't there at the time, but do not exist at all. Yes, that's right, umf'ers...it's all a stupid, pointless lie, and Ralston admitted to it yesterday after an investigation into the matter yielded several inconsistencies. That's pig talk for "they got to the bottom of his bullshit"...and he didn't exactly make it hard to dig through.
The powder left on his shirt when he was shot matched..drumroll, please...his own 9mm police issue service revolver! (You would think if you were gonna pull off some cockamamie nonsense like this, you would at least use somebody else's gun...hello, aren't you a cop? Ain't you supposed to know these things?) Not only that, but the angle of penetration that resulted from the gunshot wound was only possible had he been holding the gun that shot him...doesn't this dickhead watch "CSI"? Anybody with cable TV and an active interest in cop dramas could have figured that this now ex-bacon boy was full of shit...but apparently that was too much to think about for this would-be hero. I can't figure out whether he's a worse cop or person.
We haven't even gotten to the part that I find most interesting...the fact that the imaginary fiends who shot him had to be black. Really, now? Ralston said he made this claim because West Philly is predominantly black and it made the most sense. K', Robbie...that's cool and everything, but here's my thing. The cultural rift between black folk and law enforcement is well documented...it's a fact, folk in "urban" (that's spelled b-l-a-c-k) neighborhoods tend to distrust and revile the police. Shit like this really doesn't help blue/black relations.
Now what if they had never found out that Ralston was lying? How many young black males who "fit the description" would have been picked up, questioned, detained...god forbid, actually prosecuted for the shooting of Ralston. When Robert Ralston pulled the trigger on his sidearm, he also put a bullet in the trust that Philadelphians (many of which who are black) have in the people who are supposed to help keep them safe...and there may not be stitches big enough to close that wound.
Ralston is being suspended for 30 days with the intent to dismiss him from the force, and will have his badge number retired so no officer will ever wear it again, but that's too good for him if you ask me. (If I had my way, that wound he gave himself would have hit a blood vessel, causing him to bleed to death and sending that little piggy can cry "wee wee wee" all the way to hell.) He should see jail time for falsifying a police report and be locked on a predominantly black cell block...let's see if his shoulder isn't the least of his worries. (Fuck the police?) Of course, he won't...but if he can imagine, so can I. I can only hope next time a cop decides to shoot himself, it's in the frontal lobe...just sayin...
I don't think that's enough options...after all, you're considering adding a new Facebook friend, and that's a commitment in itself...you're subjecting yourself to all this person's activities, views, and life in general. (I won't go as far as to say you're judged by the company you keep online yet, I don't expect that to start happening til maybe 2015. I'll just say birds of a feather post similar statuses.) It's pretty deep, depending on how big a part of your life friendsites are...and it's probably more than you admit, seeing as you're online right now.
To that end, I propose a third option for processing friend requests: "probationary acceptance". That means you get to read their statuses, see how they actually use the site, and basically see what they're all about for maybe 2 weeks without their knowledge before you accept them permanently or get they ass outta here. (2 weeks of casual observation on Facebook can potentially tell you more about a person than they will in 2 months...try it sometime, pick one person out at random and see what you learn. It's like hidden camera footage.) You're crossing e-lives with this person, and that basically means you're subscribing to their personality. I don't know if I take that so lightly, because deleting folk I later find unworthy is awkward and time-consuming...I could have just weeded them out in the first place!
Yeah, in the current system you can see a bit of their profile before you accept/deny them, but that's only the cover of their online persona. (Which could be either an accurate representation of themselves in the real world or a sad, sad, parody...but that's what you'll find out in those 2 weeks.) Would you subscribe to a magazine that you only saw the cover of one issue of, or would you wanna flip through that one and maybe a couple more? Oh aight...I think something similar applies here. So yeah, Mark Zuckerberg...get on that. Plznthx.
Well, here's proof...as any dude who has ever been tongueknotted while considering approaching some glowingly attractive woman can tell you, a gorgeous gal can overload some men's circuits to the point of malfunction. (I like to open with a joke...it usually works, and the obligatory smile disguises the nervous, awkward giggle I never quite dropped from my early days passing "do u like me, check yes or no" notes in social studies class.) Ladies who are cute enough for this to apply to, that's why dudes will come up to you and say some ole random dumb shit...they're not at full capacity...I'm sure "Ay ma what's good with some buttcrack" might have translated into something intelligent had you not been as gorgeous and scrambled his communication generator. There's actually a scientific basis for that.
You see, male attraction to someone they feel is "out of their league" is a stressful situation. It releases (the clasp on his wallet and) a chemical compound called cortisol which negatively impacts mental agility, decision-making and the thought process in general. In layman's terms, "pretty girl make some boys less smartful." Even worse, over an extended period of time cortisol can contribute to such disorders as chronic stress, hypertension, and clinical depression. Yes, "killer beauty" can become quite the literal phrase if you let a bitch stress you. (It can even cause ED, which means even though you may have actually convinced her to get horizontal with you, you won't be able to do much...it's like shooting pool with a rope. Maybe somebody can sell you some generic Levitra in the streets...) Sounds like a high price to pay for a sweet piece of arm candy, right?
Wrong. There is a loophole that can make dealing with this type of woman healthier. (well, actually if she's that fine, for most dudes the sheer pretty is justification enough for the suffering one would have to endure...they get away with a lot if you let them lol...'nother post, 'nother time...) You see, in order for this effect to take place, you have to actually think that the chick in question is that serious. I get around that by assuming I'm a pretty cool guy myself and that nobody's out of my league. (Assuming this belief is true may require a great leap of self-deception on a case-to-case basis, but you'll be healthier for it.) Does it sound a little prickish? Admittedly...but I'm healthy than a mafucka, so the results speak for themselves. So next time you're transfixed by some chicks to the point of zipped lips, fix that shit quick before you make yourself sick...for real tho.
on their special day, to show that I care...
shoutout to the mommies, I know y'all go through it
(especially singles...I don't know how y'all do it!)
I can't bake for shit, and flowers soon die
but fuckit, the one thing I can do is write...
(mine will not read this, you out of your mind?!
there's cussin' in here! I'll get put in time...
out!) Yes, even as a grown ass man
she touches my life...behold her mighty hand!
"Momma's boy"!?, *pssh* ain't we all, literally?
(unless you got 2 dads...I don't wanna hear that story...)
anyway, like I was saying, my mommy is the greatest
the days and years go by, but my mommy never changes
don't always get along, but today I sing her praises
trust me, there's a lot worse I COULDA been raised with
My mom coulda spent my first decade in the club...
coulda showed indifference, she chose to show love
coulda left me home with Zebra Cakes and Pixy Stix
I coulda been her 8th kid on sperm donor 6!
She coulda been like all these twentyten freaks
letting dudes toss condoms on my baby seat...
my mommy was down...she sacrificed for us...
coulda had a Coach bag...she went to Toys R Us...
coulda got her hair done, had a ponytail
she coulda had sleep (2 kids made that fail)
She coulda been out, enjoying her life
instead she stayed home and played mother and wife
coulda spared rod, ended up with child spoiled
she coulda slacked off, instead she chose toil...
coulda let me come home and just play with the Genesis
she made sure I did homework, math and vocab sentences
she ain't let me touch that game til that shit was finisheded
(I never beat Sonic...I hold that against her, I admit...)
she coulda been free, and let her kids roam
around in the streets, she told us "Come home
at sunset, that's dusk, streetlight time...
if you're not on the porch, then your ass is mine!"
I remember it well, I hated it so...
"I'm 8 years old now, aww....why can't I go?
they all get to stay out, why I'm goin iiiiiin?
I'm not Lil Wayne...it's a shame, it's a sin..."
I was pissed off inside, but dared not talk back
She ain't play that shit...I coulda got smacked...
It was for my own good, and I can see that now...
the kids left to the streets now in jail...or underground...
she could be on crack and have crackhead kids
Instead she taught me what a woman is...
(whoa, not like that! Ain't from that far down south...
she said find a good girl...outside of the house...)
she cared about us, and she had to be hard
especially raising a little retard
like myself (then again, most small children are...)
I appreciate it more than I'll fit in a card
all the meals, the advice, the pops in the head
show that she cared if I ended up dead
(You think that's not special? Some bitches is crazy!
do you watch the news? Every day it amaze me...)
Moving on, you're damn right my mommy is special
I could sneeze in Australia, she'd call me like "bless you!"
any chick can get knocked up, like all males bust nuts
any girl can get pregnant, that ain't special...BUT...
real women are mommies...that's different, no lie
real mommies who read this should swell up with pride
the neglectful fakes should commit suicide
don't take care of your kids? Please just curl up and die!
Slit your throat, fall in traffic, bang yourself with a rocket
Oh wait, damn...I got pissed right off topic...
My mother's named "mommy"...hey, fuckit it's true
(It's "momma" in public, or just plain "mom" too...)
...but whatever you call her, you should take today
to show her you love her in your special way.
I won't take much longer to finally say:
Here's to you mommy...happy mother's day!
That typed, let me tell you as a participant in all variety of organized ball games pretty much from the time I could walk and hold an object at the same time, that this shit would n e v e r happen. It's complete bullshit. Even the makers of the commercial know it's bullshit...they even made his teammates react in a realistic way. (Well, almost realistic...if anybody on the many teams I've played on had tried some shit like this in a championship game, I can promise you he would have ended up hogtied with jockstraps on the sidelines before he ever had a chance to go to the ref.) The real end of that conversation would have been more like:
Kid: Hey coach....I touched it last...the ref got it wrong.
Coach: Oh? That's honest of you. Good eye, son. Moving on, here's the next play...Jimmy, I want you to take the rock, go down to the low post and--
Kid: But coach! We shouldn't even have the ball! I told you, I knocked the ball out, they get it!
Coach: Is that what the ref said?
Kid: No, he said it's our ball--
Coach: And do you want to get benched for arguing with a ref? That's bad sportsmanship, and I can't have bad sports on my team.
Coach: No buts, son. Can't play with em. Can't coach with em. Can't win with em. Can't do it. Now, back to the play. Jimmy, I want you to look for Ryan at the top of the key, and if he's not open...
Anyway, like I was saying, there's a difference between being honest and refusing a gift from the universe. (Being honest is mailing a wallet you found on the ground with all its contents back to the address on an ID inside. Refusing a gift from the universe is turning $50,000 in unmarked cash in a burlap sack marked "$" that you found in a random alley over to the police is refusing a gift from the universe. Something like reminding a bartender to charge your for a drink when they forgot to falls somewhere in between.) This definitely falls into the latter category. I gotta say, this kind of action was never encouraged at any level from pee-wee juniors to the adult playtime leagues I sometimes occupy myself with. The honor of sportsmanship is nice...but fuck that, we wanna win...lol...
Sometimes I see things on commercials that are pretty pointless...but this one especially offends me because it involves alcohol. Apparently, Miller Lite, tired of making watery, mediocre beer in boring, regular bottles, put in years of research on how to improve the experience of drinking it. Eventually, assholephysicists came up with a new 'innovation' to make the act of pouring a watery, mediocre beer more fun...or something. This groundbreaking new technology is called the Vortex Bottle, and it's...awesome?
The Vortex Bottle, amazing as it is, works on a pretty simple principle...grooves cut into the neck of the bottle capture the beer as it flows past, swishing and swirling it as it is poured into a waiting mug. (and making it flat in the process...an added bonus! I would have even thought it was pretty cool if it was for juice or hard liquor, but something designed to deliberately disturb a carbonated beverage makes no sense...) Ooooooh, look at the spinning torrent of semi-undrinkable piss water cascading from the bottle! It makes me want to go out and buy a whole case of shitty beer to share with friends and family just so they can witness this phenomenon for themselves! They also claim the bottle lets you pour faster too, but really, pouring a beer takes what...7 seconds? Over a lifetime, the jiffies you would theoretically save by using this wonderful device might add up to the time I took to write this sentence...so yeah, I'm good.
All jokes aside, this is really just a transparent attempt to use a pretty stupid gimmick to boost sales by tricking folk into a subpar brew...and that's just wrong. Whoever came up with this should be waterboarded (better yet, beerboarded...there's a good use for Miller Lite!) from a giant Vortex Bottle until he admits as much...if the technology really works, the liquid will pour faster and get him to break in less time. That's really the only way I can see this being beneficial to us in any way...until then, it's just another invention nobody fuckin asked for.
This illegal immigrant thing seems to be the hot topic, so I figured I'd throw my 2 cents into it. In case you don't watch the news or something, a law was just passed in Arizona (with a clone being kicked around in the halls of Pennsylvania's government) that allows law enforcement to ask "suspected illegals" (read: Mexicans and other brown people....how the fuck else do you just "look illegal"?) to produce legal documentation of their citizenship immediately on demand.
In case you don't see what's wrong with that, think of being pulled over by the police while driving an expensive car and the first words from their mouths being "Hey, this is a nice car for one of you people...can you produce a reciept? I'm not sure this is yours." You would be pretty offended, wouldn't you? It's about the same thing.
Let's get something straight...illegal immigrants are just that...illegal. That is absolutely true, they entered this country without the permission of its inhabitants and are using the resources of the lawful citizens who were here first. You know, that sounds like another group of people I've heard of before...oh, that's right...those whitefolk that stole this whole damn country right out from under the moccasins of the Native Americans. (Remember those guys? The ones Chris and them ran off their own land? "Yeah, we're gonna go ahead and take this off your hands...but y'all can still live in the designated areas we don't want...cool?) That's right...some of the same people who are so vocally polibitchin against these illegals are descendants of illegals themselves. Way to have a short memory...
Even in a modern context, think about it...how many of these so called "criminals" make this country go every day? It's actually pretty astounding if you think about it...see, a lot of gate-jumpers, they're coming from a shithole of a country. What we call 'poverty' in America looks like a luxury cruise to these people.
As a result, they just want to earn a wage, and they do the jobs that a lot of Americans would rather sit on their lazy asses and collect unemployment than do. Yeah, I said it...we need them here. People like to say they steal jobs from Americans, but I don't see people clamoring and competing for the jobs these people do (with a smile!).
Don't believe me? Aight...let's say tomorrow... *poof* all the illegals just magically are spirited back to Kreplachimexicostan or wherever. Oh happy day! Cool...you know your friendly neighborhood cab driver, corner store owner, fruit man, cart vendor, line cook, street sweeper, those handy folk who stand outside Lowe's and will build you a backyard gazebo or re-roof your house in 3 days for 5 bucks an hour? Yeah, kiss all them mafuckas adios. Oh yeah, all you rich people making noise about this? You think this is just a common man's problem? Say that again when your pool boy, your cleaning lady, and your in-home babysitter go bye-bye too. Have fun paying an American 10 times the money for about 75% of the work (you know how we are...lol).
I see the national security concerns, and they're well-founded. It's true, the country is better without those kinds of people. However, these folk represent a very small number of the total illegal population...most people just see America as the place where anything can happen for you if you're willing to work hard enough (or fuck the right people). They just want a better life...how can we say that's wrong? You live here and I bet you want better for yourself.
Hell, people from this country are terrorists and all kinds of worse people too. You want to talk about a drain on our resources, keeping those assholes in jail is definitely one. (It costs $58 a day to keep somebody behind bars. I don't feel like opening my calculator app, but trust me, it adds up.) Tie those fuckers to a rocket and shoot 'em into space...(who said anything about a space suit?) then they'll be illegal aliens too.
I'm not here to say illegals should just be given the same benefits as everybody else...people though they may be, they're not citizens, and they shouldn't be afforded the same rights as us until they are. Should they get any type of government assistance, welfare, etc? No. Hell no. Hellfuckin no. (They don't pay taxes and I do...fuck that, I'm not that tolerant lol) But if they're willing to come here, learn the language, make themselves useful to scrape out a living, and try to build a better life for themselves and their families just like the ancestors of everybody who will read this did at some point...I say they absolutely deserve a shot at it...but hey, that's just me...
People seem to be all charged up about this kid in the picture getting tased (or tasered or taserded or however you make that a verb) for running out on the field at the Phillies game on Monday night, but the way I see it, he took his chances. You know, I never really even understood exactly what people get out of running onto the field during a sporting event. I like sports as much as the next man (I'm scheduling the birth of my future children around football season...can't be stuck in the hospital during a 'Boys game, its not in HD, there's no beer and the wings probably suck...) but I'm fine watching sports from my couch, a barstool or my seat at the stadium. I don't see the purpose at all. Does anything good EVER come out of that?
First off, you're stopping the game. You know, the event that you paid an exorbitant price to get into and therefore obviously care about the outcome of? You could even end up throwing your favorite team off...another Phillie Phanatic who apparently also wanted some static ran out onto the field last night after a few too many 14 dollar beers...he escaped a justice jolt, but almost caused his Philles to lose after their pitcher, Cole Hamels, was rattled by the distraction and gave up the game tying run. (I'm confident that what the crowd would have done to him had the Phils not come back and won in extras would have made dude beg for a tasing...he would have been the first man since the old West to be driven out of town by a torch-and-pitchfork mob.) If you're really a fan of the team, is that what you want?
Another thing...does anybody ever manage to evade security/cops/players when they do do that? (If you can really outrun all the mafuckas who are gonna be after you once you hop that fence onto the field, you don't really need to be watching the game...you need a tryout and a contract.) The only thing that ever happens is shit like this...the guy runs around for a while, the crowd cheers, eventually he either trips like last night (in front of 40,000 people...smooth move, Usain...) is tackled, or in this case, gets the shit tased out of them. I don't know about you, but high-voltage electric shocks give me indigestion...I'm good on that. I'll just sit here and have another Heineken, thx...
Not to mention...yeah, this is post 9/11 America. You know, orange alert, red alert, evacuate Times Square, 3 hour airport check-in, 24/7 terrornoia (ooh, I like that one lol) America? He's lucky some electricity was all he got...they'll fuck around and shoot you like a sick dog nowadays for trespassing anywhere you ain't got no business. It's kind of harsh, but I kind of understand...when someone comes dashing out from the crowd at an event, how do they immediately tell if it's just some college kid on a dare or some fool ass human grenade who's gonna do the whole "HALALALALALA*BOOM!*" thing? They can't...so they just can't have that kind of thing go on. I can dig it. SHOULD they have tased him? Maybe, maybe not... WILL they tase your dumb ass? Sho nuff. So, to the next fan that decides he wants to get in the game...its your ticket, you can run if you want to, on the field if you want to, streak if you want to...just expect some shock therapy.
My problem is with the implementation...it just seems a little off to place the promotion on buckets of fried chicken. How are you promoting health while serving some of the greasiest birds I've ever encountered? (Seriously, one time I visited the Colonel and damn near had the bucket fall apart in 10 minutes after absorbing the copious amounts of liquid fat that dripped from the skin of the chicken...it's not even all that good to justify it being that damn greasy.) Not even a 2-piece (the obvious choice) or a small combo...no, to help out you gotta buy the whole oily ass bucket.
So we're going to cure breast cancer, but give everyone heart attacks in the process? Um...aight. The same company that owns KFC owns Taco Bell, Long John Silver, and a couple other restaurants that I never see and thus do not exist...couldn't they have picked a slightly healthier menu item than a pail of poultry caked in lard from any of them to do this with? Tacos for Ta-tas? Crunchwraps for Cleavage? Fish and Chips for Healthy...eh, you get the point... I see where they tried to do right, but...ya know...they might need to unthink about that. I just wonder...lol...
This was a conversation between me and my boss, who I call Reddock here, at 9:00 this morning. I don't like that dude, and he doesn't speak to me any other time, so when he walked up with the ill jovial face today, I knew something was up. However, this is just an example of how staying cool might keep you out of hot water.
*AJ stands in file room sorting files, Reddock enters*
Reddock: *unctuously* Hey, good morning, Anthony...how's it going?
AJ: *rolls eyes* Heyhowsit*mumbles something that sounds enough like a greeting to get him to leave my presence*
Reddock: *turns, starts to leave* Oh wait...I meant to ask you something since I was out yesterday...did I see you on TV at some kind of parade on Saturday?
AJ: *remembers Saturday's events/yesterday's post, hides both "oh shit" face and green wristband* Hmm? Nall...parade? What parade?
Reddock: Yeah, a parade...a marijuana rally or something...big guy, green hat, green shirt? He looked a lot like you...
AJ: *was mentally scrambling the entire time Reddock was talking* ...Well, if it was that kind of parade, I would think a lot of people would wear green clothes...wasn't me...
Reddock: Hmm...you sure? Do you have a brother or something? I could have sworn it was you, it was a big black guy...
AJ: *puts on fake offended face at the notion that I had to be 'the big black guy'* (few things diffuse a work situation faster than some shit that could make it up to HR...lol...)
Reddock: D...uh...I mean yeah...he was a good-looking man...I just thought he looked a lot like you.
AJ: *thinks about how much he could get for "racial discrimination" AND "sexual harassment", decides not to be that guy* No, it wasn't...I didn't leave the house on Saturday, sorry...
Reddock: *with awkward look on face* Um...uh... *decides not to dig hole any deeper* Oh, I see...well, you have a great morning Anthony!
AJ: Yeah, you have a morning too... (that's not a typo) *smirks to self*
Moral? "It's not what you know, it's what you can prove..."- Alonzo, 'Training Day'