"Fine!"

Many have wondered why it is that the word "fine" when spoken by a female, especially one in a relationship, literally never means "fine". Almost without fail, it is a word you do not want to hear come out of your girlfriend's face (kinda surprised I missed that one the first time around). I can see where the disconnect comes in. I, like every other heterosexual male, have heard the word "fine" used many times by many different chicks, and not once did it mean "everything's dandy, and this situation suits me well." Nope, the real connotation behind that vocalization is more akin to "Fuck you, do what you want, you'll be sorry, GRR!"

Well, I got up on a cloud and thought about it...eventually the answer smacked me in the face. You see, another definition of "fine" is those little slips of toilet paper police and other buzzkill officials like to give out for minor infractions like broken taillights and public sex (I don't really think that should be a crime...ain't really my thing but for those that choose to do it, I think it's perfectly fine as long as you conceal yourself decently...think of it as a game of "Hide and Go Freak"...) and is a declaration of their intent to make you pay. This "fine" is no different. When your girl says "fine", she's not saying "everything's cool, we're good"...she's saying "you fucked up a little and it's probably going to cost you."

The parallells continue...like a real-life fine, you can fight it. It's within your rights to dispute any fine you are given in the appropriate forum. Only difference is, instead of going to traffic court, you get to argue your case at home. Both, however, are monumental wastes of time and maybe money. (In one case it's a day away from your job and in the other,girls can hold grudges for over a week, and that includes Sundays. I can't afford to have a girl be mad at me all week, she might do something rash and stupid like turning the game off while I'm watching it and then I'll have to put her in a trashbag and pay an actual fine for putting my garbage out before Tuesday. Stupid city ordinances).

The solution in both cases is just to pay up asap, even if you have to use a counterfeit apology. Seriously, just get it overwith, ignoring it only adds interest. (Hers, of course, you'll be just as disinterested either way...) Besides...the critical difference here is if you don't pay a fine the city gives you, you'll eventually get locked up...but if you don't pay that other kind, she will...and there are no conjugal visits in that kind of lockdown...just sayin'.

Formsprung

Welcome to another exciting Wednesday...it's reader question day, the only day of the week where I'm even less sure what will be posted here than usual...

Do you like Whiskey?
Sure...I like alcohol of all colors and nationalities...what kind of leisure drinker would I be if I discriminated? Whiskey is a fine, fine spirit... (There's even a "Swilla" liquor review to prove it!)

When the fuck are you going to clean my apartment?
When you pay me, dammit! I'm a citizen, I can demand a fair wage...which I can then use to outsource the job to illegal immigrants. Everybody wins, I make a little money, your apartment gets clean (almost said "spic and span", but I don't want an international incident...), and the immigrants can feed their families...just tell me when you want to start the program :)

where the heck do u find these crazy ppl 2 take pics of lol
All over Philly...it's not even like I go looking for them, they just wander around begging to be photographed and ridiculed online lol...I think they like the attention...

Who wears short shorts?
Yo momma does!

bet ur happy about ur cowboys huh?
Overfuckingjoyed!

Y do u keep nunchucks behind ur bed?
To thrash the stuffing out of unattractive people who stand by my bed when I wake up, duh...I thought you would have gotten that after last week lol...

What's your favorite part of your body?
I'm a boy, what do you think?! If you don't know, it's because you don't have one...I'm sorry about that lol

Do you think you're going to hell?
Who says I'm not already here? I don't get off til 4:30...

Does ur mom know ur gay??
lol that's an old one! Kudos on the 3rd grade joke reference...

To answer the question, my mom knows I'm gay as much as she knows I'm a T-Rex or a math teacher...all are utterly impossible for me...

If you woke up being teabagged, what would you do?
Go to jail for 1st degree murder, I guess...that's not a prank, that's an indication that you want beef...so like cattle, you must be neutered and slaughtered...

You're out on a date with a bad jawn you've been diggin for a minute, Floyd Money Mayweather comes up to yall table makes it rain with 20 dollar bills and then sips your drink...What do you do?
Well, first I would gather up all the $20s I could in the classiest manner possible (that just means no biting, groin stuff, or eye gouging in the struggle I'm sure would ensue...hell, times is hard and if she didn't like it, she could pay for her own fuckin dinner lol...) which should cover the meal, then I would buy more drinks with his money, ask him to sign the 1st cup as an excuse to keep it, have him cloned from the DNA on/in it, form a traveling boxing circus and make millions of dollars, a small portion of which I would use to one day return the favor...it's the perfect storm lol

Well, that was...interesting...and what's the fascination with standing beside my bed? Am I gonna have to choke a reader out? Hahaha...anyway, if you wanna participate next week, the question box is >over there>, but since I like hyperlinking shit:

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

PSA: (Fan) Clubbed to Death

Facebook friends, umf'ers, and people who are considering becoming either of the 2, lend me your eyes. I have a matter of mild to moderate importance to type to you about. You see, lately I've been noticing a severe decline in the quality of fan clubs/activity *like* groups, and as a result, the invitations to these groups. It was all well and good when it was shit like "We love *insert TV show/movie here*", "*your favorite sports team* fans!" or "Put a Sonic in Philly, fuckdammit!" (That's one of mine, as I'm sure you guessed...it's an appreciation group that doubles as a munchie referendum...if we get enough folk in it, I'm sure they'll listen...obviouslythe letter I wrote them wasn't enough :( )

However, lately I have begun to notice people being fans of dumber and more generic shit like "I sleep when I'm tired", "I own shoelaces", I watched *any or all of every single television show of a given era", or "Like this group if you were born in the years 1970-1995". Oh, join the fucking club, it's only you and every other living human being! You get the feeling these people just made a group that literally anybody could feasibly join just so they can be agreed with. (I imagine these people wear t-shirts that say "I hate evil!" or go to sporting events with both jerseys on...way to go out on a limb and make a statement...)

Really, what's the thought process here? Is there one? "Hmm, I hit the snooze button when I don't feel like waking up yet. What a singularly clever and astute observation, I bet nobody else does that...let's see how many other people do it, I bet it's not many, I'm pretty unique...oh, I know, I'll make a Facebook fanpage and see how many people like it!" Seriously...log off and do something with your actual 3D life...maybe you'll find something interesting to like.

I wouldn't even mind too much if people hadn't been bombarding my requests folder with invitations to this type of mundane bullshit, and frankly I'm sick of it. Sicker than contagious anal smallpox. So here, let me make this polished crystal clear: if you're thinking about sending me an invite to some stupid group like "I was a child at one point", "I have been late to work", "I've been injured before and didn't like it!" or "Like this group if you have a Facebook password", save some time and DON'T send me that dumb shit. Don't, do not, cease and desist, quit, stop, no mas, fuck off, swallow your mouse, D O N' T D O I T.

Seriously, I delete people like it tastes good to do, so if you value my friendship the tinest bit, just leave me the fuck out of it. You can even assume I like it if it gets you to take a knee on that shit...just don't bother me about it. When you get an actual opinion or some insight into something not readily apparent to short bus alumni, you can holla at me then. Until then though, when you get the urge to send me an invite to "I was alive during Michael Jackson's career"...beat it. Grr...

*crushes mic in hand, drops*

Shit I dont know how folk lived without: the Smartphone

Ah yes...the smartphone. It seems like only yesteryear that everyone had the same Nokia green screen box phone (they were ugly and basic, but utterly indestructible...made of some kind of vibrianium-carbonite polymer, it could only be destroyed in a supernova...it was the most durable piece of late '90s technology since Nintendo 64 cartridges...plus they had "Snake"!) and the most customization one could do with it was to have an exclusive monophonic ringtone...because everyone wanted to know what that era's Top 40 hits would sound like coming out of a Game Boy (the original that was the size of a cutting board and took 16 batteries, of course) one note at a time.

Anyway, it's now twentyten, and most people (all the cool ones) have powerful smartphones which have apps that allow us to do all kinds of fantastic shit like use the internet (and post stuff like what you're reading), play console-quality games, send and receive nekkid pictures, and otherwise waste time in a futuristic and cool-looking manner. Oh, and if you insist, you can also call people with it too. You've seen all the commercials with people using impossibly convenient phone functions to solve small problems, like the AT&T one with the guy who, using his phone, changes his train ticket on a moment's notice to match the destination of some unknown chick who caught his eye and they end up getting married and producing a future President or some such bullshit.

I admit that I thought some of that lightning fast situational convenience was dramatized (especially on AT&T...everyone knows that they have enough trouble getting service above ground, let alone below it...more realistically, dude would have been loading his ticket for half an hour, tried to board the girl's train anyway and been eventually thrown off in the middle of nowhere before being forced to walk 35 miles to the nearest town and go into a coffee shop to use the pay phone. That's when he would meet Pattie Mae, a waitress/aspiring movie star, and they would eventually get married and produce a future Wendy's shift manager. Wait, am I off topic again?) but as is clear to me now, I underestimated the power of the smartphone. I had my first "commercial moment" yesterday, and it so endeared my phone to my heart that I decided to write about it (again...lol).

{puts on spectacles, smoking jacket and narrative slippers, clears throat}

The time was 12:47 Sunday and I had a serious problem: I had nowhere to watch the Cowboys game! (It's a serious problem to me...) I found out at the literal last minute that the cretins at Fox had decided not to air the game around here, opting instead to show some chick flick. My usual football bar is halfway across the city and takes 45 minutes to get to, and the game started in 10ish minutes...I may suck at math, but that shit don't add up. I decided, hey...why not try a local bar?

After 20 minutes, 4 checked bars in 3 different directions, 2 "we're not showing it either, and we don't appreciate your kind in here"s and a "we had the NFL package, but we haven't been doing so well and we had to take it off, try us again next time" (yeah, right...why the fuck would I? The one thing I want, y'all don't have! It was like going to a new burger place and being told, "Yo, we're out of patties right now, but we make a great grilled cheese on a kaiser roll and we'll have them back in next month if you wanna come back!" Na, mafucka... I'm good.) I was no closer to watching the game than I was 3 months ago. I couldn't believe it...me, an alcohobbiyist, unable to find a decent bar. Finally, I decided to suck it up and go to my usual beer church...and miss the whole first half.

I got on the train at 69th, resigned to half of the only 3 hours a week I ask of the universe for myself. I was upset, disappointed and had a long ride ahead of me...so I did what I usually do, play with my phone. Then it hit me like a All-Pro middle linebacker on a 90 pound quarterback: my phone could help me! Google, great as it is at finding facts, is pretty suckish at finding real-life information...funny thing, nothing useful comes up when you type in "Where the fuck can I find a respectable football bar in the next 10 minutes!?" (Mostly porn, and I didn't have time for that right then.)

Around 60th street (my starting point...I did a lot of walking!) is when those magic words came to me in an ominous whisper like in that book you didn't read in high school with the crazy guy who builds a baseball field on his farm so he can play the game with imaginary and dead legends: "There's an app for that..." There had to be a solution in the App Market somewhere! Not much time though...the train goes underground at 46th and I would be internetless...this had to be fast.

After inputting "bar finder" an app called..."Bar Finder" (that every drinker/sports fan who owns a smartphone should have) popped up. I downloaded it, and within 30 seconds I knew there were 6 football bars in the area...including one right under 56th street station, which the train was currently pulling up to. I felt like I was in an ad for my service provider...I expected to hear the little jingle at any second. I waited around for it...almost long enough for the doors to close with me still on the train. Finally, I got off, went down the stairs, and there it was...a football bar with a big sign proclaiming "We Show Every Game!" Landry be praised. I went in, and just like that I was watching the game (that I had missed about 50 seconds of) with a cold beer under a Cowboys banner in a bar that I had no idea existed 5 minutes ago. Ding ding ding-ding-ding...T-Mobile.

{closes book}

There you have it...the continued utility of the smartphone. Truly, it has changed my life for the better, and even though that's only one example of it's blessings, when the near-$100 bill comes at the end of the month and I get the urge to frown my face up and bitch, I will remember that moment as the reason I've been giving them that shit month after month for 5 years (as they remind me every time I call customer service...my relationship with T-Mobile has lasted longer than any of my actual ones!) and pay for my service with a smile. Well, maybe not a smile...maybe a slightly rueful grimace/smirk hybrid with an affectionate but scornful shake of the head...but that will not change the fact that my smartphone is definitely some shit I don't know how folk lived without. (T-Mo, if you're reading this you can drop those prices just a tad though...come on, times is hard!)

Camera Phone Ninja Vol. 31- Friday Double Feature

I was on the EL earlier, morning buzz still strong in my head as the train sped me toward the specific area I must waste time in to get paid for doing so (it seems kind of odd to call it "work" seeing as the amount of labor I actually perform is little to none...mostly I do the same things I do everywhere else to kill time, play with Facebook, text, check football news, a little SimCity or something, post on umf...it's the same timesuckery, but in the designated payment zone.) when, as usual, somebody put their eccentricities all up in the crosshairs of my camera phone...only this time, it was 2 subjects on the same ride! (Guess that kinda makes up for the 3 or 4 good pics I missed the last couple weeks...haven't done CPN in a while, my trigger finger has slowed down a bit...I'm working on it though.)

First off, (once you stop wondering where he got athletic sweater socks...damn those things are thick! It's 93 degrees today, I KNOW his feet are hotter than a monk crossing burning coals) I'd like to introduce you to a guy I'm not even gonna give a fake name like I love to do with people I don't know...I'm just gonna call him "Job Security"...you see, my job is for the city and I deal with folk we call "clients" around the office and that you probably call "career criminals". (If for some reason you want to know more about what I do during the day when I'm not shooting the font with you fine people, I wrote a post about it. If you don't, I understand, fuck it, keep reading.)

This guy, between his jailhouse-chic ankle jewelry and t-shirt with Biggie's "10 Crack Commandments" (a song/street vendor's handbook, for those not familiar...you know what, go to urbandictionary...funny thing about that place is very few "urban" people use it...) proudly emblazoned on the front, is a perfect example of the people that keep me employed...what, you didn't learn your lesson the first time, homie? (Not to mention him even wearing that shirt is a direct violation of #2: "Never let 'em know your next move"...we know your next move, my man...back to the clink...) Here's my thought process..."Hmm...he's got an ankle monitor...I wonder what he's...*looks at shirt* oh."

Then, once Job Security got off at 34th and went off to slang rock outside University of Penn Hospital or something, this women (I know what I typed) boarded the train and parallel parked herself in the seat in front of mine. At first, I didn't even pay her much attention...until I noticed her shirt. What the hell happened here? Usually I have to take a girl's shirt off to see all 3 of her bra straps, but this garment saved me the trouble (and I do mean "trouble"). She had the approximate build of an NFL defensive lineman, so I know she didn't wrap her abundant flesh in a ventilated shirt this morning on purpose, since I assume she owns a mirror.

I gave her the benefit of the doubt and began to think of possible explantations...was she mauled by a bear somewhere in West Philly? Nah...bears mostly live in Chicago, couldn't be. Did she get the horse hair for her weave the hard way and end up getting trampled or catch her shirt on barbed wire in her escape from the ranch? Hmm...never mind, she'd be a lot dustier after an ordeal like that. Did she swell up into some kind of Incredible She-Bulk at some point and rip her shirt to ribbons in the process? Hmm...maybe...but it's probably too early to be that angry. Oh! That's it...she's on a fitness plan to misplace a few pounds and the shirt contains speed vents to make her powerwalks more ærodynamic. Yes, that made perfect sense. With my theory in place and my ninja work done for the day, I hopped off at 15th and went off to...type this up...lol... Happy weekend, umf'ers!

Lies They tell the Chirrens: "Pay attention, you'll need this!"

It may be 90 degrees here in Philly, but as far as the calendar is concerned, summer is over.

The leaves will turn brown, orange and red as they decay in the streets (never understood the fascination with that...it's just dead leaves, seriously. People will literally travel to the Northeast to see dead leaves on the ground. I'm about to start a new business that ships huge bags of dead leaves all over the country for a modest fee so you can either scatter them on your own front lawn or paperclip them one by one to a tree in your yard or whatever the hell else you want to do with them...there are people dumb enough to go with that. I'd rake in the dough, plus I would be doing folk a service, saving them expensive airfare in this economy...dammit, I'm off topic!), college and NFL football relegates wives and girlfriends to second class citizenship (sorry gals, you still get 5 days...and 7 on the bye weeks!) and kids, tweens, teens and slow 20 year olds everywhere will be dragged off kicking and tweeting to school.

Now, far be it from me to discourage education...even though trying to get a child to sit still and learn something it has no interest in is like trying to teach a cat to scuba dive, a lot of kids are plenty stupid enough without taking away their one hope at getting half an education. (They damn sure don't get it at home...half the parents are just as dumb as their spawn...it's not their fault, people just prefer Facebook to "a book".) However, I gotta say, there are a couple things I learned in school that they put a lot of emphasis on and still haven't used to this day, some half a decade after graduation. (Damn, I just made myself feel old...lol...)

For one, there's cursive writing. When is the last time after you learned that that you saw it? Are we in the 1700's? Am I writing a letter on parchment with a feather pen? The last time cursive was used on a regular basis, people like me weren't allowed to learn to read it (or anything else...it's cool, white people, you can laugh at that, we're mostly over it). NOTHING is written in cursive anymore except when people are trying to make shit look fancy. I'm not even sure they teach it anymore, and for good reason...maybe they'll replace it with another form of semi-obscure script, like textspeak or Olde English characters so they can design gangsta tattoos...it's about as useful, and way more current.

For another, there's higher math for anybody that's not gonna be an trig teacher or a rocket surgeon. Maybe I'm biased because my mathleticism is way lacking (it's possible that ADD is to blame...which is ironic as hell, considering that and subtraction are the only forms of math I do consistently well...) but they could have saved that shit for math majors, not 7th graders.

I like to consider myself a pretty smart dude, but I barely grasped the multiplication tables before they started throwing all types of letters and shit into the equation. Guess what? I sucked at it...and you know the most fucked up part? After graduation (and a year of college) I never saw a x or y anywhere near math again. I hope I don't either, because if I'm ever at the store at a register and the cashier says "Your total comes to 7x + y dollars and 2(z-1) cents", I'm gonna punch their hairline back. Fair warning.How is it that programs that can be lifetime benefits like gym and music are being cut out in some places but we always have money in the budget for a new math textbook, like the numbers inside change or some shit.

The bottom line is, younglings need education, but we spend a lot of time teaching them useless shit when we should be teaching them important life skills like how to write a resume, how to raise the child that more than a few of them have (or how to work a condom in the first place lol), and consumer skills like how to live on one's own without going back to your parents house for dinner every night or washing your clothes in the fire hydrant. They always tell you "you're gonna need this in life" right before they teach you something you'll never even think about again...but even when it was me being told it all those 5-10 years ago, I knew it was just another lie they tell the chirrens.

Formsprung

Is it just me, do do Wednesdays get closer and closer together every week? Oh well, at least y'all laid off my 'Boys this week, so I'll take it...anyway, here's this week's questions!

Age of first drug and alchol consumption? Reason?
Well, my first experience with alcohol was around 16, I was at some dollar party in a basement somewhere and the cranvodkas were a-flowin'...(that moment was the beginning of a lifelong friendship) and I did it because...well, I admit I did it because everyone else was, but I was a teenager and that's what we do lol...

My first puff was at the age of 17 during freshman year at Morgan...I did it because I was curious and my parents couldn't see me...I'm glad I made that choice, otherwise I wouldn't be answering this question right now because umf wouldn't exist... (besides, it's one of the only things I learned in college that I didn't know in high school...)

Finish this sentence: A Philly girl is ...
one of my most valuable subjects of study to further my hoodrat research...

Top 5 Fav Musicians/Artists
Hmm...I'll do this quick before I have a chance to think about it, otherwise I'll be here all damn day...

Red Hot Chili Peppers
T.I.
Jay-Z
Green Day
almost anybody but Nicki Minaj

When u gon have sum kids?
When I'm finished enjoying my own life and am ready to accept the fact that my life is no longer about me for the next 18+ years, and have found a woman I probably won't want to kill 3 years afterwards (the baby mama thing ain't for me...seems like everybody hates theirs, if you hate the bitch so much why did/do you keep pumping her full of manshake?) ...so anywhere between 3 years from now and never lol

So when I move to alabama r u gon cum visit?
Sure, just send me a plane ticket and a bottle for the ride...wait, what part of Alabama? I have a lot of pigmentation and I don't wanna end up a early Chirstmas ornament in a tree deep in somebody's woods, fuck that lol...

When is the last time u went 24hrs witout alcohol or weed?
24 full hours? Uh...damn...I can't remember, but I don't know how much you can take out of that because of all the alcohol and weed I consume...could be last week, could be when I was 17...all I know is I hope whenever that was was THE last time lol

Wat would u do if u woke up one mornin and found me standin rite by ur bed?
I would scream "WHO THE FUCK IS THIS ASSHOLE?!" and then beat you to within an inch of your life with the nunchucks I keep behind my bed...unless of course, you're attractive...the procedure changes considerably then, but still can involve the 'chuks if you're into that kind of thing... (what, I can't get all freaknastyish too? lol)

Act Score???
Didn't take the ACT, but I took the SAT in '05 (last year it was 0-1600) and got a 1350...the math part fucked me up, but as you may know I have a certain fondness for the intricacies of the English language, so that part wasn't shit...I've always been good at standardized tests, hell I still remember that a korf is a tiger, a pillot is a shoe and hoyjet is a thick black liquid...lol... (wow, acheivement test inside jokes...must be Wednesday...)

!!!!!NEW ORLEANS!!!! Sorry just wanted to rep my city =I
lol it's cool...whatever's on your mind, man...

(go Cowboys!)

How 2 Deal with A Breakup???
Alcohol helps, but really, the only thing that heals a broken heart is time (spent fuckin other chicks).

ps- always keep the sex tapes, if any...that way you can blackmail her out of any cockblocking she may plan to do...

Do you workout?
Sure...I run (my mouth) about 3 miles every day, exercise my thumbs with about 1,302 texts per 24 hours, get some cardio in walking to the liq store/searching for weed, work up a sweat watching NFL fitness videos on Sundays (again, go Cowboys!), and even lift weights sometimes (unless she's too heavy, that's dangerous, I could throw out both our backs...) ...yup, I lead an active lifestyle :)

lol another fun edition of "Formsprung"...glad to see y'all are still bored/interested enough to ask away even when I miss a few days. Thanks again for wasting time with umf, and if you wanna anonymously get your query or queery (kinda miss the weird sex questions lol...wait, what the fuck am I typing?!) put up next week, there's a question box >over there> and a link under here:

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

The girl who cried "AHHHHHH!!!"

In life, there is fail. It's an unavoidable part of the lives of pretty much everybody besides that Old Spice guy who can bake a cake and remodel a kitchen at the same time. Most fail is of the relatively harmless variety (you know..."Minor Life Failures"?) but every so often a foolish human runs headlong into an epic fail that changes their life in a fundamental, irrevocable, and hilarious (to folk like me) manner. This is definitely an example of the latter.

This woman you see here, whose name was Bethany something until I renamed her the Hydrochloric Asshole, had just had one of those "this can't be life" moments, realizing that her life was so bad that the only way to change it was to either end herself or get a different face. However, the beauty knife was a bit out of her price range...so she came up with a genius plan: why not rub corrosive acid on my face and make up some bullshit about being assaulted by a nonexistent black lady? (What is with these crimes being committed by make-believe black folk this year? It's an imaginary epidemic! Between the lady who claimed that 2 made up brothas threw her and her daughter in a trunk and kidnapped them but was found at Disneyworld later that week, the pretend Negroes who shot former officer Robert Ralston, that guy who robbed banks in Ohio with a black man mask and this, it's just not safe for fictional African Americans in society today. It's only a matter of time before Heathcliff Huxtable, George Jefferson and Phillip Banks are being sought out in some kind of terrorist plot.)

What I think she thought is that the outpouring of sympathy would lead to enough donations and support so she could get her face restructured however she wanted (honestly, it wasn't bad to start out with...classic example of fixing shit that ain't broke. Hear that, Lil Kim?) and...live happily ever after or some shit. The thing is, she was right on all counts...she even got enough for fine dinners, travel, and luxury shopping trips to Targét besides the surgery money, but what she didn't count on is a police investigation (imagine that, a police investigation into a criminal matter...) which quickly got to the bottom of her bullshit once they discovered her story couldn't be true because of the even, masklike nature of the burns and the fact that the number of black women who just carry corrosive materials around for no reason is on a steep decline ever since they stopped making perm in spray cans.

Sure, she'll try to wrap this whole thing around exhaustive depresson or seasonal affective disorder or some other clinical crybaby bullshit she could've just taken Percocet for like a normal person, but what it really boils down to is an insecure, desperate woman crying out for attention...and probably iodine now. In the end, the Hydrochloric Asshole will do time in jail for grand theft (spending her ill-got gains on Martha Stewart Home Originals and Olive Garden meals), filing a false police report (for implicating a black woman that did not exist in the "assault"), fraud and general stupidity (wait, that's not a law yet...well, until 2028, when I run for President).

However, it's pretty...wait, definitely the wrong word here, nothing pretty about this...it's rather obvious that nobody can legally mete out a punishment that's worse than walking around like Harvey Dent (that's Two-Face from Batman, for the 'grownups' in the room) for the rest of her life. While it's true that those who will most suffer is the unfortunate folk nobody will believe when some fucked up shit like this actually happens to them in the future, it's always nice to see a stupid bitch try some shit like this and get...burned...lol...

Locker Room Talk

So apparently, this thing with that reporter who got "harrassed" in the New York Jets locker room is a pretty hot topic...Inez Sainz, football reporter and generally hot chick, was in the Jets locker room and--

*stops, stares at picture*

Shit, where was I? Oh yeah...after showing up in pretty much that outfit you see in that picture, the roomful of naked, sweaty men began to make the same comments that every heterosexual man who looked at that picture thought, even at one point being referred to as "boobalicious". (Not my personal favorite adjective, but a very valid observation if you're willing to spend 30 seconds Googling her to verify. Seriously, go ahead, I'll wait. *elevator music*) They whistled and shouted and catcalled (Catcall...that's a stupid word...what the fuck are you doing going around meowing at bitches? You some kind of pussy?) and basically did the real life equivalent of what happens when chicks put angled downshirt pics on Facebook. This, apparently, shocked some people, but Inez, having been hot for quite some time, was used to it and by her own admission, had no problem with it.

It is at this point in the story that along comes a spider. After a while of watching this display of horny adoration, another female reporter was so vicariously offended by it (offended, my black ass...20 bucks says the snitch was a real trollface that was jealous that nobody would look at her twice on purpose...she was offended that the last time somebody whistled at her, only other dogs could hear it.) that she started Linda Trippin' out, reporting it to the NFL, the national media, and Barack Obama in an attempt to see that these men who had committed the mortal sin of noticing an attractive woman were brought to justice, or some such shit.

Now, for anybody who doesn't grasp this very basic concept, when females wear certain items of clothing or accentuate the appearance of certain body parts, it, by design, is a visual stimulus...or in layman's terms, if you put your titties where everyone can see them, folk are gonna look. (Think of the chick at the club with glitter all in her cleavage...you think the way to get people to not notice something is to make it shiny and more visible?) It comes with the territory...Inez knows that, which is why the "victim" seems to be the one with the least problem. Why the fuck else would one wear ærosol jeans and a shirt with the 1st 5 buttons undone around a bunch of dudes? She knew exactly what she was doing...being hot.

I find it funny that the only people that seem to have a problem with what went on are people that weren't involved at all...trying to apply all types of feminist girl power bullshit in this scenario is not that dissimilar from America's crusade to impose our way of life on anybody that will stand still long enough. It's unbelievable to a lot of people that some folk enjoy living the way they do (read: not like us *gasp*) just like it's inconcievable to many people that folk would actually enjoy being complimented on their attractiveness...in both cases, it's usually those who have no experience with it who make the most noise. (No Bush joke...those are so last year, even though I coulda zapped both Barbara and George with that one...) Maybe we should all take a step back, see nobody was hurt here, and move the fuck on to something more important...like the Jets offense...it might have been the only thing in the room at the time that was limp. Anyway, that's my 2 ti--uh...cents on the matter. Excuse me...

*gawks at picture some more*

Formsprung

Sigh...I knew this was coming...I was really not looking forward to this Wednesday, but here's "Formsprung"...

Did you not post on Monday cuz the Cowboys lost?
Oh, here we go...

*sigh* Yes, yes that is why...

ILLUMINATI 2 Believe or not?
Sure, why not? I'm not a big conspiracy theorist, but there definitely is more to the world than what we see on the news. I could see that...

(I will throw in that if I see another career dumbass who spends 30 minutes on Youtube and comes away a worldly philosopher, I'm gonna slap his fuckin face off...)

Have you ever written a post about the Cowboys? It seems obvious, but I don't see any...
Plenty... (my favorite is "Go Cowboys!" Creative, right?)

Have you ever fucked with a girl off of Blackplanet (worse than MySpace, if you ask me)?
Ah, Blackplanet...damn, that's a relic...

Aight, so for those that don't know (or need to step your context clue game up), Blackplanet was an...urban MySpace...that I did use a while ago, back when Facebook was just a magazine and tweeting was still something no grown man would admit to doing. Now, as for the answer...I'm gonna Clinton you here and say that depends on what your definition of "fucked with" is...lol...still, real 3D life was and continues to be my main source of female fishing...

What is love?
Baby don't hurt me...
Don't hurt me...
No more...

Seriously, I don't know...it's whatever you and the person you aim it at decide it is...

lol do you want Barron cut?
No, I don't want him cut...I want him eviscerated! (I hate using that word, you know I meant that shit lol)

How bout them Cowboys?
Oh, you're the worst kind of person...

Still thinking 12-4 for your boys?
Yes, I stand by my prediction...ask me again in 3 weeks lol

can u do a gravity mug in space lol
Hmm...guess not since there's no gravity..zero G Spartan Kick is always an option though...

What does etcam satnd 4?
ooh, I already answered this one...means you must be new and somehow browsed umf classic (the old shit lol) until you stumbled upon that...thanks for reading!

Oh, right...the answer (from a previous Wednesday):

Well, there are 3 main reasons the food section is called that...it stands for eat.the.cake.anna.mae. (in case you don't know where that's from, Ike said it to Tina in "What's love got to do with it" and we all know what happened there...she should have just ate the damn cake, it did look good...), it's pronounced eat-cam, which makes sense because it involves me chewing things I recently took a pic of, and cake is my general metaphor for fat foods in general and I'm pretty sure u know that etcam munchies don't exactly tend to come from Whole Foods, so it just works on a few levels, I guess...thx for askin tho!

What was your reaction on the last play of the Cowboys game?
Must I relive this? I thought we was cool, why you want me to cry, homie? Fine, I saw the touchdown, ran around screaming with a mix of unbridled jubilation and a pinch of insanity, then went back to the TV, saw the flag, and just KNEW. I opened a beer, drank it in 3 swallows, and took my heartbroken ass to bed. *sigh* ...is it next Sunday yet?

I found out 3 things this week: more NFL fans read this than I thought, y'all are some douches (I say that with love), and I shouldn't do this when the 'Boys lose...lol...anyway, let's try this again in 7 days. Question box >over there> or if you want to take the long way around the block:

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

Minor Life Failures: iHustling

This one is more of an annoyance than a failure, but I'll classify things however the hell I want around here. (Besides, hopefully-soon-former Cowboys lineman Alex Barron gave me all the fail I can handle Sunday night when his forcecuddle dryhumping of a Redskins defender on the last play of the fucking game negated the game-winning touchdown...it was like having the greatest sex of your life only to find out immediately afterward that you just got herpes. It took everything in me to not punch his televised face after that, if only because I can't afford a new TV and want to watch next week's game. Anyway...) So you're sitting on the train, texting away. The zenlike state where one can type 130 words a minute using their thumbs and can carry on 5 separate textversations with ease has completely made you forget you're sitting next to a total stranger who probably smells a bit ripe.

That's when, out of the corner of your eye, you see it...your seatmate has been helping you mind your business for the last 10 minutes! That sneaky son of a back alley masseuse was employing the Text-Spying SideEye to get all up in your affairs and watch every word you just typed. (Earhustling is one thing, hell sometimes people just talk too damn loud and you can't help but hear whatever bedevilment is falling out of their faces...iHustling is a whole seperate sin...it's a willful act of textpionage!) That's not cool...omgwtfsmh. You're not gonna just allow this, are you?

Hell no...and there are a few ways to make sure he thinks thrice before iHustling ever again. Solution one is, obviously, simply to angle the screen so the glare makes it impossible to see. (Solution 1.5 involves an app that doesn't exist yet that simulates looking directly into the sun for anybody not holding the phone...it's "Patently Imaginary" for now though.) The second one is a bit more confrontational and a lot more demonstrative. It entails simply looking up from your text and directly into the eyes and soul of the person, then slowly and loudly repeating every word you just typed like you're talking to an ESL graduate. That should embarrass them into minding their own bandwidth.

The third requires some creativity on your part, but can be the most fun of them all....all you have to do is just start typing some off the wall shit that nobody wants to read, like how you can't stop thinking about fucking the person next to you in the ass (can't get mad, they weren't supposed to read it!), how there's *clears throat, Keanu Reeves impersonation* a bomb on the bus (don't send that though, I don't want anybody commenting on this post talking about I got them arrested and put on some watchlist...) or about how you hope you can get home before your airborne-spreading zebra pox medication wears off...any of those should send ole Nosy McPeekPeek to another seat, if not off the vehicle entirely...and he will not brb. Hope that helps!

Special Moves: Gravity Mug

The Gravity Mug (or "mush", depending on your regional dialect) is one of the Special Moves that is more crowd-pleasing than dangerous, making it an ideal choice for those who wish to make a point physically while doing the minimum possible actual harm. The main damage done is to the target's ego...and as anybody who was asthetically challenged in high school knows, scars on the psyche can last the longest. The reason for the move's embarrassment factor stems from stigmas involving the touching of one's head against one's will, indicating complete dominance. (Think of the cop who will beat a perp within an inch of his life, then carefully ensure he doesn't hit his head on the roof of the police cruiser by guiding his head into the backseat...he doesn't care about the suspect's cranial safety, he just wants to say "Gotcha, punk...") Here, I will share the method so that you too can use the mortifying maneuver known as...the Gravity Mug.

1) While facing your opponent, place the foot that corresponds to your dominant hand slightly behind the other. This positioning torques the body to generate maximum force for the coming attack.

2) While in this position, turn your torso so that your off shoulder points in your foe's general direction. This added movement facilitates even more potential energy that will get hella kinetic in about 5 steps (or .312 seconds...in case you're not the sharpest spoon in the drawer, this whole thing should be done quickly.)

3) Raise your dominant arm to shoulder height and bend your elbow so that your palm faces the muggee. Splay your fingers (not spirit fingers, that's not gangsta...keep those digits still) and slightly cup your hand into a loose claw to form a pocket that the poor asshole's head should fit right in. This is your mug arm.

4) Now, with your mug arm in place, begin to twist your torso in the opposite direction and step toward the victim with your front foot. While doing this, begin to thrust your mug arm towards the enemy's head, making sure that your palm is aimed at the enemy's cheek for best results.

5) Now comes the fun part: Just as your shoulders return to their natural position, palm your opponent's face. (If you have tiny Muppet hands like that guy from those Burger King commercials, grab as much face as you can, it should work anyway.) Continue to rotate your mug arm forward. Push off with your back foot and lift it into the air as you lean as much of your weight as balance will allow into the move.

6) Great job, he's losing his footing! What, you think it's over? Hell no! Now it's time to follow through! With the target's face firmly secured in the palm of your hand, continue to push their head down and diagonally until you completely upset their equilibrium and they are prone on the ground. (Do not, however, go to the ground yourself.)

7) Taunt. Since you're intentionally besmirching them anyway, you might as well stand over their curled up, cowering body and get in a couple parting shots like "What now, bitch!?", "Sniveling pantywaist mafucka!" or, if you don't cuss, the old standard "Take that!" (Why don't you, though?) Message sent...they'll not trifle with your ass again anytime soon because they obviously now appreciate the gravity of the consequences.

That's it! Now you know the powerful and shaming secrets of this Special Move. Hopefully, it will serve you as it has served me. However, remember...Special Moves are only to be used for defensive purposes (or if somebody just really, REALLY, R E A L L Y gets on your nerves). Anyways...happy Friday, umf'ers!

The Big Deal

The other day I was calmly flipping through channels looking for some decent background noise to text by when I saw this commercial for Kotex feminine shit. It featured an undercover female asking random dudes off the street would they go in the nearby drugstore and buy her some Kotex lady levees, a request that was denied by every party shown. (My personal favorite response was "I just won't do it." ...way to tell her what's what!) Apparently this has been a source of vexation among females for some time.

Now, what exactly they were trying to prove by having some unknown ass chick stroll up on dudes and ask them to do something a lot of guys wouldn't do for their actual girlfriends (and a lady never asks...you know when your tide comes in, have your sandbags ready!) isn't clear, nor is why she needed these gentlemen to actually purchase them for her like a 17 year old standing outside a liquor store asking passerby to go in and get him a Wild Berry Boone's Farm (scrap that bike lock bullshit...put a used tampon on the ground near it and I bet no man comes within 5 feet of it)...what I did get is that the commercial ends with the tagline "why are tampons such a big deal?" That, ladies and Kotex corporation, I can answer. Tampons are a big deal because they're not part of our lifestyle and are also very eww.

Any man who needs a tampon has bigger problems than who's going to get them for him. I'm not sure where this new expectation for us to just happily discuss the goings on of a woman's internals during the Forbidden Week came from, but I can passionately assure you that don't nobody wanna hear that shit. We realize that it's necessary, but so are prostate exams (for now) and I'm sure getting one's bunghole probed isn't great dinner conversation. Urinals are also male-exclusive, but nobody talks about them outside the bathroom...this should be right in that same category.

The fact is, to men anything that bleeds for 5 days should have been dead the first one and to be reminded of the exception to that fundamental rule fucks with us on a very visceral level. So yeah...as a matter of fact it is kind of a big deal. It's not cute, cool, attractive, sexy, or anything else positive...it's just icky. Yeah, I typed it...icky. It is, and I don't care how cool the box it comes in is, how hot the asker is, or what the tampon makers think of my anti-tampon ways...much like me for those 5 days, it's not going down. Call me sexist, call me immature, call me Ishmael...I just won't do it. Sorry, y'all... (but not really...lol)

Formsprung

And now for my favorite day of the week...reader response day! Let's see what's on y'all minds today (besides football apparently...I can dig it!)

How much would you weigh on the moon while wearing your favorite outfit?
Huh? What kind of question? You're obviously high...

I can respect that. Now, I Googled it and found out that the moon has about 1/6 the gravity of Earth, meaning the 230ish pounds I tote around this place is about 40 (sue me, I'm not a mathlete, I round shit off) up there. My favorite Cowboys hoodie weighs maybe 2lbs, a pair of Levi 569s is about 3 on average, a fitted weighs a few ounces, draws weigh a little more than that and my midnight navy/flint grey Jordan XIII will bring the whole outfit to about 7 pounds or around 2 on the moon and my total to just under 90 with all the equipment like a spacesuit and shit that I assume I would be wearing because air is important, even hypothetically...I don't know how that information benefits anybody, but thanks for the brain exercise...lol...

Can you make a post out of ANYTHING?
You're typing to a guy who turned a shortish walk in the park with some chick whose name is a color into a 30 minute post and dedicated a thousand word essay to his hatred of the Snuggie...yeah, I'm pretty good at turning scraps into meals...hell, just look at the "Bachelor Kitchen" thing lol...

do u know the cowgirls are gonna get that ass stomped sunday?
There's a sports franchise by that name? Interesting...what is it, a women's lacrosse squad or a roller derby team? I don't watch either, so I don't know...sorry...

What's your prediction for the 'Boys season?
Hmm...I'm optimistic for the 1st season in a long time, and being the defending division champs and never having to hear about 1996 again was awesome (Blue Star Brigade inside joke)...any given Sunday this year they're as good as any team they're playing and better than most....sky's the limit I guess. Let's see...hard prediction...12-4, at least one home playoff game ;)

Why don't you do video blogs? You're pretty funny, so if you don't have a bitch voice you might do okay lol
Well 1st, thanks for the compliment, I do try...but as for vids, it's kinda hard to do those at work without being detected. I'll see what I can do though, you're not the 1st person to say I should, so umf'ers know what's best...

and no, I don't have a bitch voice lol...I sound like a man, dammit!

You watch Dr. Phil?
lol as a rule, no...but I happened to be flipping through channels and that episode caught my eye...just like I don't normally watch Springer but that one where some guy married a $5,000 sex doll had me riveted lol...

You find true love this year or the Cowboys win it all this year...pick one.
Not only am I not even sure true love exists, I have the rest of my life to find that...I know the Super Bowl exists, so go Cowboys!

How much does the biggest bitch you can bench press weigh?
lol what!? Um, aight...when I played football many years ago, I maxed out at about 300...so I guess somewhere around there, adjusting for clothes and um...whether you're on Earth or not... Realistically, if you weigh more than me in any circumstance, you can stay your chunky butt right on the ground haha...

You STILL haven't done your standup? I think you pussied out!
hahaha no I didn't...there's just a 2-drink minimum in that place and I haven't really had money to drink anywhere but the Treehouse so...yeah...I get paid on the 15th and have been putting in some "extra work" (read: paid texting) so it's definitely in the budget this time...I actually can't wait! (Of course, I'll find a way to work my brokeness delay into my act...)

What would you do if you caught somebody stealing your lunch?
Defenestrate them...then when I'm arrested, claim insanity on the basis of temporary hunger-induced psychosis and present that fridge note as evidence of the mentally taxing office atmopshere that led to my outburst...seems pretty airtight.

lol thanks again y'all! blah blah blah, next week, box >over there>, link:

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...

I'm Asking You!: Computer Love

*fittedwearer's note: "I'm asking you!" is exactly what it sounds like...I give one of my signature soundoffs on something, you give me your take in the comments. Since you, the reader, value my opinion enough to keep coming back (thanks again!), I value y'all opinion enough to ask...let me know something!

Labor Day marks the unofficial end of summer, a celebration of America's working class, and all the progress that the formation of unions has made for the rights of unskilled laborers and all that good shit. However, let's be honest, it would be one of those marked days of significance that nobody gives a Flügtag fuck about (looking at you, Arbor Day, Earth Day, all the JV holidays out there...y'all suck!) if it wasn't for the day off that most of us get today. Yes, as with Columbus Day, Labor Day is most notable for the extended weekend it gives us.

All across the country, grills will sizzle, parades will jubilate down streets, and folk will lay on their couches, drink beer, and watch mindless daytime TV instead of dragging their sorry asses to their place of employ and putting in yet another unremarkable day at the office/grill/store/pole. If you know me at all, you know which describes me (and also know that this post has almost nothing to do with Labor Day). I found myself watching a particularly iNtriguing episode of Dr. Phil this morning which featured some MySpace freak (yes, they still make those) who had become engaged to a man she "met" online via that most romantic and heartfelt of proposal mediums, the text message.

If that wasn't...uh...unique enough, she said that what got her interest was "his profile" (which should tell us all to think long and hard about what we put in the "about me" box), she had only "known" the guy for a couple months, had been to his hometown of Atlanta from her home in Arizona once (they went to the mall...I bet they'll treasure those $3 photo booth pics forever) but had never seen his house or new Infiniti that he claimed to have. She took him at his word on all counts (because, you know...nobody ever lies on the internet) and happily accepted the proposal he typed with his thumbs to the dismay of her mother, who was also on the show. (They tried to bring the guy to meet the mom but they "couldn't work it out" and had to settle for a broadcast phone call...yeah, nothing shady there...)

Now, I'm not one to judge...if she thinks that after a couple months, getting a text that says "OMG I <3 u soo much we shud ttly get hitchD LOL :)" is a significant affirmation of love to trust the rest of her life to a person then that's cool...you know, it's her life. But it's pretty clear that either I'm old fashioned as hell at 22 for believing that one's first date/engagement party should not be with a stranger halfway across the country at a strip mall or that some people have taken this internet thing miles too far.

I mean, was it really that long ago that you had to at least see a person twice before you decided you were going to marry them? Take them to 2 seperate movies or at least hang out at the Taco Bell a few times? Hell, even hang out at yourplaceormine for more than a couple hours. (It's the new date...times are hard, and some couch QT and a Netflix subscription is a legitimate way to grow a relationship these days) I'm a big proponent of technogical advances, but, (if you'll pardon the pun) not that kind. Is this a new thing? This is where we're at right now? We're searching for true love on Google? Even for a late 80's baby like me, that's quite a connection to ask me to make, but it could be that I just need to refresh the way I think. Is the new path to marital bliss the internet superhighway or should people like this be thrown in an iPadded cell? I'm asking you!

Writer's Block

{Somewhere in AJ's brain...}

All right...it's around noon, my boss isn't watching...time to crank out some umf. Sweet...I love this time of day...it's kind of a shitty day, but maybe some umf'ing will get me going...

*opens posting app on phone*

All right...let's make some giggles. Only problem is...hmm...what to write about? How about TI getting arrested for the thirtyleventh time? Nah...used up all my good jokes on Facebook. "He can't even stay out of jail in the movies"...*chuckle*..."How is he gonna name his album King Uncaged when he's in jail...how about King Recaged?"...heh heh... eh, too bad. Shit...gotta either stop doing that or get over my phobia of joke recycllng. Can you recycle a joke? Technically, it is going green...I support the environment...can't grow weed on a polluted earth. Heh...going green...weed is green...maybe I can use that somehow...ugh, that's hackish. Well, I guess no less hackish than naming a post about food "Food for Thought". Ha ha, real funny, AJ. Damn, no wonder my posts are disorganized, even my thoughts stray fucka far off topic...this isn't helping...let's see what's on the internet today...

*closes writing app, goes to Google homepage*

Hurricane Earl, Hurricane Earl, Hurricane Earl...fuck, man...I'm sick of hearing about this. Its gonna rain, fine, I'll use my apartment as an umbrella. But hmm...Hurricane Earl...anything funny there? That show "My Name is Earl" was pretty okay. "My Name is Earl"...hmm...could I do something with that? Nah, let me not embarrass myself...what am I, the New York Post? Hmm...why do hurricanes have to have such normal names anyway? Maybe they should give them hoodrat names...Hurricane LaDestiny sounds pretty destructive...so does Hurricane Trishonda. Real LaDestinys and Trishondas destroy lives and homes all the time...usually give good blowjobs too...why not in hurricane form? Eh, never mind, that's probably only funny to me. Hmm...unemployment high, recession continues...not news to me, I'm staying late today and working overtime this weekend for weed money, I know everyone's broke, I wish they would stop fucking telling me. Shit, this is depressing me...

*closes browser, re-opens posting app*

Hmm...maybe some original content. Maybe a letter? No, I just did one last week...plus I don't even have money for stamps. Fucking recession. Grr. I hate it. I wish it was a person so I could beat the shit out of it. Think I'm gonna get a dog named "Recession" and kick it whenever I'm broke. Yeesh...can't post that, PETA will send goons out to make a stick puppet out of me if I talk about hurting animals. Oh, how about one of those weird inventions I fantasize about? Ooh, I can do that!

*starts to type*

"Patently Imaginary: Weighted Beer Mugs"

Have you ever wanted to work out and drink at the same time? Well here's...

That's even dumber than usual, AJ. Most people only drink with one hand, which means there would be one big ass strong arm and a spaghetti noodle on the other side. Well, I guess you could even it out by drinking from it with your non-jerkoff hand...hmm...never mind, I don't think I'm ready to go there yet.

*delete delete delete*

Wait, I can do one of those "Lies they tell the Chirrens" things! Haven't done one of those in a while...

*pumpfakes a post*

"Lies the Tell the Chirrens: Never Talk to Strangers"
It's funny how they tell you as a child never to talk to people you don't know, but when you grow up...

Hold on...you know what, it's probably a good idea not to encourage people to let their kids talk to strange folk. I mean, the entire premise was gonna be in order to get to know anybody of the opposite sex as an adult, you would have to talk to a stranger...but kids under 8 shouldn't date...Chris Hansen would not approve. Never mind.

*delete delete delete*

Fuck! What do I post today? I don't want to plop out some half-assed bullshit, but it's Friday...people are expecting me to make them laugh at work, especially since I stopped posting on weekends. Hmm, what happened to that thing where I used to take the shit bartenders say and run with it? Oh right...I stopped going to the bar. I hate being broke...it killed the ETCAM section too...I liked doing that...I can't wait until the 15th, damn! That's not helping me now though. What to write, what to write...*sigh*...dammit. I guess I'm just not feeling it today. I'd rather take a day off than tarnish the burgeoning legacy of umf...oh jeez, listen to me, I sound like a douche...a blogger even. Oh well, no post today I guess...damn...I guess my readers will understand...

Food for Thought

You see this? This is the sign that was posted on the office refrigerator this morning. This shit is sad...in case you weren't here for the PSA on the subject, we have a problem around here with sticky fingers, especially involving delicious lunchtime edibles. (Although it definitely doesn't have to be tasty to be a target...I got 2 chargers stolen within a month. I even wrote a letter about it...) Apparently, we have such a rampant epidemic of food filching that there actually has to be an office charity hotline for all the poor, starving, gainfully employed people who were so depleted by a morning of sitting on their asses looking busy and tweeting that they just had to steal somebody's lunch to survive. ¿Que el fuck?

Now, it goes without typing that office lunchthievery is a heinous, evil crime on par with slinging puppies into a river, but what fucks me up about this is I work in an office of so-called "professionals"...legal professionals at that. Seriously, how does one actually steal somebody's lunch out of the office refrigerator and then go to court and litigate? Hell, how do you ever look them in the eye again? I know if I swiped somebody's Panda Express, I couldn't bear the guilt...it would consume me faster than I consumed it. The taste of teriyaki and shame would be in my mouth all day. A full stomach is just not worth an empty soul to me.

Besides...when do they get time to eat the stolen lunches? Maybe it's just me, but I remember the adage "there's no such thing as a free lunch", and that's true even if you're eating a hot lunch because the price is your dignity. It can't be fun standing in a dark corner of some file room or hiding under one's desk in a suit and tie wolfing down a half eaten burrito to avoid being caught like a kid who smuggled a box of Ring-Dings into fat camp. The shit is unseemly as all hell...but I guess when you work with lawyers, you work "with criminals". Hmm...since they're hungry attorneys, maybe they wouldn't mind being served some justice...stay tuned... ;)

Formsprung

Answerable questions begetting questionable answers...that's right, it's Wednesday again...let's see what's in the bag...

Could ever date someone that is NOT a Cowboys fan?
Sure, as long as she accepts my lifestyle choice, is willing to give me 3 hours a week to myself, and won't judge me based on the colors of my team like some people.

How big is your dictionary?
Girl, my dictionary is huge...like a foot long and 3 inches thick, you can get "pleasure" and "satisfaction" out of it (pages 346 and 569, respectively) lol... Seriously, I've just always loved the intricacies of the English language, plus it's fun to flat-out befuddle a mafucka in an argument by dropping a 5 syllable word in perfect connotation. Indubitably.

What do you think about that girl who threw those puppies in that river?
That was pretty random and fucked up...I'm no PETA member,believe me, I think the main purpose of animals is to be delicious, entertaining or to have warm skins to wear, but that's just wrong. I mean damn, there are starving kids in China! (lol sorry, couldn't resist...if you absolutely must see me type it, "it is wrong to throw puppies in a river in and of itself.")

Why must your blog always be Cowboys colors?
Why not? What else is it supposed to be? Vikings colors? Dolphins colors? Redskins colors? (ugh...) They're perfectly fine colors...they're masculine and powerful and cool looking, dammit! (Plus blue is my favorite color anyway...)

is there a twitter ettiquette?
Could be...you'll have to ask a Twit, #idon'tfuckwiththat...lol...

Is it bad Facebook ettiqutte to delete someone a week after adding them?
No. It's good friendslist quality control. Hell, I believe new Facebook friends should go through a week's probation anyway...

did u ever know that ur my hero?
Am I also the wind beneath your wings? Haha...if I'm your hero, you don't need any updrafts whatsoever, you're quite high enough. (Not that there's anything wrong with that...)

u saw how bad ur cowboys looked last night, aint u?
Ugh...unfortunately...that was a sad display of professional football...it's preseason though, they'll be aight...plus we'll see the Texans again week 3 when the games count.

Would you ever join the military?
No. It's just not for me...I'm not good with authority...if I wanted to be woken up at 5:30am every day, told what to do and when to do it, and have orders barked into my face, I would have stayed with my momma. (I love you mommy! Even though I hope you'll never read this...lol...)

omg can I steal this fb ettiquette post and put it on my profile? so many of my friends need to see this!
Please, I invite and encourage you...steal away, that one was meant to be spread door to door Jehovah's Witness-style...I want it heard as widely as possible. Some of that shit has to stop as of yesterday...join the movement and spread the word!

Taking shots at the WNBA is one thing, but what's wrong with childbirth? It's beautiful and natural.
What's wrong with it?! It's...it's just...ugh. In case my hypothetical future wife is reading this, this letter is for you, babe...I'll be in the waiting room. None for me, thx...and I guess beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but "natural" ain't necessarily great...lol...

If you were two-stepping in the club and a guy walked up behind you and grinded his pelvis against you while fist-pumping, what would you do and what song would you want the DJ to play?
What the...um...okay...
Well first I'd cry "RAPE!" at the top of my lungs, kick him in the nuts, then run his pockets because he owes me for the lapdance...and of course, the DJ's next song should be En Vogue's "Never Gonna Get It".

hahaha y'all are the greatest and craziest group of readers a guy could ask for...I appreciate your input a lot, even when the questions are weird as fuck, it honestly means a lot that you lot even care enough to make me uncomfortable. Aight, same time next week...look for the Cowboys blue (:p) question box >over there> or if you hate my color scheme that much:

any question you want...go 'head, fire away...fuckit, I'll answer...