Saturday, April 4, 2009

Dumb People

I hate dumb people who think their opinion matters.

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Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Blogs

Fuck this shit. I work every day for long fucking hours and I want to write on this stupid fucking page but I never get a chance to and I feel like a jerk for not keeping up with but at the same time don't really give a fuck because nobody reads this shit anyways. But that's not even the half of it. When we started this thing it was a good idea because everyone has to release a little steam every now and again, so why not in the form of a blog? Well, things have gone off course a little bit, most notably the fact that we stopped writing. I think before we get any further into blogging, we need to address a few issues, namely those related to the topic of this post.

I have some questions that need answers.

1. Who the hell came up with the term "blog"?

I mean, this shit sounds retarded. It is an ugly word that sounds so lame when I talk about it because I have found myself in conversation mentioning my "blog" and once it comes out I feel like a complete tool because the word itself implies 1. that I spend an above average amount of time on the computer and 2. I actually take the time to discuss my interwebbing with people I am socializing with whom I don't need to sue the internet to socialize with anyway. Unless of course they are my friends who live in far away places and are huge fans of the interweb ion which case they should ignore this particular rant because I love them very much. But that is besides the point.

2. Why do people feel the need to create blogs about shit nobody cares about?

I know for a fact that nobody gives a shit about what we hate and what we don't hate, so why do we feel the need to write about it and post it in a place where people can see it? I mean, it feels good to write about stuff and to try and come up with clever titles and topics to write about, but of course I will fail miserably at it most of the time (although I am quite proud of my glasses post). I have encountered blogs about peoples cats and I hate cats so I guess while trying to answer this question or elaborate on it I am in fact spinning my wheels into understanding why people do post blogs about mindless shit. It's because they care about it and want to writer about it not really giving and eff as who reads it or likes it or hates it and they continue to do it because it is a new and interesting way to express yourself an feel a sense of accomplishment because you can casually bring up your blog in conversation and feel cool about it. Unless of course your blog i about your cat in which case you should really stop breathing my oxygen, no matter where you are on this planet because cats and their owners are kind of creepy. well, cats are the creepy ones because they stare at you and judge you and are calculating their next move based on how much they want to freak you out.

In some ways I read back over what I have written and it focuses almost more on cats than on blogs and I wonder why because I have not had any specific cat encounters over the past few years that would stir up such emotion.

3. Who reads my blog that I don't force it upon?

Are there people that sit at their computer and just keep clicking the button at the top of the page until they see a clever title and read that? Are there people that read my blog and forward it to their friends and say, "Hey this is fucking brilliant!"? Or do I write on this and pretend that someone is reading it and think that I am clever when really my writing comes across like that of a 35 year old with downs syndrome who is bitter about the way people treat them at the grocery store.

4. Should I really care about who reads this and who doesn't?

No.

The bottom line is I am hating on blogging right now because I have three that I am trying to keep up with and I am not doing a good job of it at all. And I wish I could have the same blogging experience as some of my friends who are kidnapping plates and posting music they create but instead I type this drivel into this machine in my classroom and wish that I could be swimming in the ocean with mermaids.

Tuesday, September 2, 2008

The Sun

Yeah, that's right. I hate the fucking sun, at least right now. It's all hot outside and shit and when I walk around I overheat too quickly because I am a large man with a high core temperature. So sue me if I get sweaty when the sun peeks its head out from behind the fog every once in a while. I recently went to visit my parents who live about 45 minutes outside of the city and it was so hot up there that I was sweating just standing around. Granted I was wearing jeans because I am starting to feel like men shouldn't wear shorts, but that is a different story. I'm talking about the sun and how much it pissed me off this weekend. Okay, okay, it was sunny and gorgeous and everyone was out running around having a wonderful time in the swimming pools and golf courses and parks with free music, but c'mon. When I take my shirt off for a few minutes, maybe a few hours, I'd like to be able to enjoy myself instead of getting burnt by the harmful UVA and UVB rays emanating from the giant star that lights our galaxy. I mean, my girlfriend can kick it in the sun and get some color, my brother and his friends can be running around half naked and get some color, but the moment I take my shirt of to reveal 6 months of pale teacher flesh, I get ostracized by these nitpicking rays and must deal with a week of not being able to towel myself off quickly because my arms and shoulders hurt too fucking much. Dammit. I enjoy a couple hours in the pool and now must suffer the consequences. Of course, you are probably chuckling to your sun-loving self right now about how foolish I must be to go out in the sun without proper SPF protection. Well, you know what? I didn't wear sunscreen because I forgot and now because I forgot I have skin peeling off of my nose and I am embarrassed because I am surrounded by a ton of teenagers who stare and like to point out the flaws of anybody aside from themselves so I am made to feel insecure by a bunch of pimple faced kids. And I think it is obvious that I don't truly hate the sun for burning me, I am just using it as a scapegoat to push the hate I have for myself in being such a goddamn idiot on a hot sunny day for not wearing sunscreen or just being aware of what the fuck I was doing. I love the sun. In fact, I feel like the sun is inside of me all the time because I am so full of love right now. So the sun is amazing. I am just an idiot and this post should be about how much I hate myself in the sun because I wear jeans on hot days and get too hot and then I wear a bathing suit without any sun protection and get burned and then I have to deal with myself being a total fucking wuss and try to make myself feel somewhat vindicated by posting on a hateful blog about my misdirected hate for something that is so beautiful and nice. I am sorry Mr. Sun. You are a wonderful being and I will stop using such hateful language when in your company. I hope that you have a nice sunny day.

Monday, August 18, 2008

Eyewear Trends

I wear glasses. Every day, all day. Why? Because I have to. Now I have noticed over past year or so that more and more people are wearing glasses. Are our eyes getting worse? Are people opting out of contacts for the glasses? No and no. What we have now is an epidemic being spread amongst the masses perpetrated by hipster scum where people purchase glasses that have no prescription in them. Yes, you heard me right. NO PRESCRIPTION. Now, seeing as how I have worn glasses since I was a junior in high school, I can tell you, it's not something I would ever willingly choose to do. They get in the way of a lot of things like when I would like to kiss a lady friend or when I want to wear a pair of regular sunglasses. Now these might seem like little things to most, however, on a regular, day to day basis, these things get a bit frustrating. Now you might be thinking to yourself, "Quit whining and get contacts." Yes. I should. But I can't. For some reason, I have the most gorgeous eyelashes in the world. They are long and elegant and graceful and are actually sought after by many. I also have astigmatism which means the actual lenses I need are much larger than regular lenses. So, when my astigmatism-ed contact lenses have tried to meet my eyes through the most beautiful eyelashes in the world, it doesn't work out. I seriously cannot put them in. So I am forced to wear glasses so that I can see. But I digress. This post is in no way meant to make you feel bad about how amazing my eyelashes are.

To the strangers who see me at a bar and say, "Hey, nice glasses. Are they real?", you can take your wayfarers and sit on them, breaking the arm until you can buy a new pair and then do the same thing again. Yes, they're real. Why would I ever want to wear something that is completely unnecessary unless I have bad eyes or need eye protection while shooting a gun? It makes no sense to me. I enjoy snowboarding quite a bit but I am hindered by my glasses. I had to buy a special insert that goes into my goggles that gives me the same prescription as my glasses only to have the piece of plastic fog up and cause me to crash. If I didn't need glasses, I would not wear them. Period. Wearing unprescriptioned glasses is like wearing a helmet while watching television. It makes you look retarded.

I don't even know how to verbalize my disgust for those who unnecessarily wear glasses. Actually, it ios mostly directed towards the men. Women, you wear ridiculous accessories all the time because you are women and that is somewhat acceptable. I am still a bit bothered by the unnecessary glasses, but whatevs. It's the dudes that really bother me.

Men do not wear accessories.

The only "accessory" that is acceptable is a watch, and I don't really consider that an accessory because it serves a purpose of telling time, unless of course you are euro trash and you wear the thick leather banded watch that is way more jewelry than time piece, in which case you need to stop it. now. I can maybe see a small ring or maybe even a necklace, hidden from view, as being close to acceptable (but not quite) but if you are a guy and you are wearing glasses that only serve the purpose of looking cool, then you are no longer a man. You are a whore of the industry and there will one day be a book written about you aptly titled, "Unnecessary Trends: What Really Led to the Downfall of American Society".

I hate you for wearing my pain as your style.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Why do bitches like trendy bars

Why? What the Fuck. Why do women want to go to a place where they have to pay to get in, pay to much for shitty fag drinks, and listen to lame popular music that is so loud they cant hear or be heard in any type of normal conversation? I'll tell you why. Its so stupid girls with low self esteem can feel better about their crappy lives for a few hours. People, and in particular stupid women, love spending and wasting money. They come home from a hard day at the office, maybe they actually had to do some work, and they need to blow (Oh how I wish they really needed to blow) off some steam. No better way to do that than waste time and money, usually not their own (mommy and daddys and or their boyfriend/husbands). Men, women know this is where their power lies. They know they can waste your time and money and this makes them feel powerful. They get satisfaction from watching you do something you dont want to do. Maybe women really are leaders...but thats a topic for another shitty blog. They know that you would rather stay home, play some poker with your friends, go to your dive bar etc. But thats not gonna happen because they need to feel better about themselves. So guess what, we get go to a lame bar, spend to much money, and be miserable all night.
Perhaps the more important question is why do I or any real man put up with this. Why do we let our women manipulate this way. The answer is not pussy. The answer is because we are pussies ourselves. If we were/are real men then we would just take a cab downtown, go the massage parlour, have a rub and a tug, then go to our normal dive bars and drink too much and hang out with our buddies. It comes down to this. If we dont do what they want then we have to listen to them bitch and whine for the next week about how we dont spend any time with them. If we do do what they want then we have to put up with lame shit for one night, compromise. Since we are pussies we do the later. And we get what we deserve. A life of waste and compromise. The massage parlour is sounding better and better.

Monday, August 4, 2008

Just a bunch of whiny bitches

What the fuck? Another shitty blog by another couple shitty bloggers. In our first blog Mr. Hustle and I have decided to lay out our mission statement and core values so that there is no doubt what we are about. These values and statements will be just like the constitution in that we can amend them any time we see fit. So, here it goes.
Mission Statement:
To wholeheartedly voice counterintuitive common sense backed by a lack of scruples, morals and general idiocy. To do our best to provide our readers with something original, even though that will probably never happen. To prove, like Socrates, that nobody knows what they are talking about (including ourselves). And Ultimately, to cast the shadow of doubt on all who have been convinced they have glimpsed some form of the Truth, or Troof as its commonly called now.
Core Values:
1. We hate on everything
2. Nothing is sacred or off limits
3 We will use everything and anything to achieve our mission
4 You are wrong
5 You have a dickfor on your shoulder

So, dear reader, we begin our journey to become antagonists in the blog community and to insult the vagaries and lame ideas put forth by other bloggers. I personally make no promises but I will endeavor to be either drunk or drinking while composing my share of the blogs. I will promise to put all my spite and anger into these posts with the hope that it will stay there. But I know that will never happen. In fact I can feel it seeping back through the keyboard, through my fingers, and into my being. And I feel whole again.
Mr. Hustle...your up next.
Until next time
Dickfor