Do you passionately hate the uncouth, the rude, and the ignorant? Depending on your mood,do you find yourself arrogantly laughing at them sometimes and yet, at other times, find yourself dwelling upon the various ways to commit homicide without getting caught. Welcome to the everyday encounters with "these" people...and frighteningly, they are EVERYWHERE. War...war forever against these degenerate people and ideas!
The Quest for Mt. Wendy's was an undertaking I performed while in my downtime and only at the convenience that I happened to be in the are. I failed in my pursuits...but I knew that one day, I would gaze upon its glory again.
While fielding a call today, I needed to pull over as my company has a no tolerance cell phone driving policy. I could not believe my eyes as I exited the highway that sloped into a valley with a four way stop. To my left, a massive Wendy's sign at the summit of a great mount...and in the valley below, the very McDonald's where we had been banished! I could not contain myself.
Immediately, I needed to document to footage...it was like retracing the stations of the cross on a pilgrimage to Calvary hill.
I stepped out of my vehicle...I took myself back to that fateful day...I could envision the great monster furiously pumping his arms as his heart was pumping his viscous blood through plaque encrusted veins...I could see him salivate...I could see his rage...."Coaches eat at Wendy's! ROOARR-MRAGHHHH!!!" Like a great beast, he threw his head back in victory. Even the most minute petty control he could have over young men brought him tickles to his testicles.
I will find a local artist of my liking and I will commission a work along the same realm as Emanuel Leutze's 1851 American Classic oil-on-canvas, "Washington Crossing the Delaware" In the foreground, shall be us peasants...exiting the bus, stricken and starved, at the center will be the goon, in pompous undeserved grandeur. He will be 1/4 way up his climb, panting like a coy-ote...baying like a llama. And there in the background, will be the glory that is Mt. Wendy's...I must find the artist! Please send me suggestions.
Today I encountered a dilemma I've never expected to encounter. It has infuriated me to such an extent that I am seriously on the verge of committing a serious crime.
A few weeks ago I ordered a handmade dress to wear for rehearsal dinner for the wedding. It was cheaper than almost anything that can be bought, it had the cutest fabric, and was going to actually fit my body. I was so excited about this dress. It got shipped last week. Somehow, the seamstress of said item only had my old address, and shipped it to such through the post office. I had all my mail forwarded by the post office about 3 months ago. Today, I couldn't stand it any longer and contacted the seamstress to find out where my dress was. She said she had delivery confirmation from May 30. Then informed me it was at the old address. I took a quick drive over there and knocked on the door. No answer. I rang the doorbell. No answer. I could clearly see the guy's car and could hear him moving around, but he was not answering the door. Pissed. I call the landlord and let them know the situation. As I'm pulling out of the parking lot, I see him come outside, only wearing his underwear. I said the boy to talk to him and he claims he's never seen any packages for us. He goes in. I make the boy knock on the neighbor's door to see if this is true. Neighbor informs us he has seen a few packages for us and assumed they got passed on to us. This is the first we've heard of it. He knocks on the guy's door and he then tells us that "oh yeah, I got a package and it only had a crapload of coupons in it." So not only did you keep a box of ours and not tell anyone, but you OPENED IT?!?!?! WTF?!??!?!?!?!?!?! At this point, livid is an understatement. We hightail it home and I call the police, who direct me to the prosecutor's office. Complaint filed. I called the post office and I'm meeting with them tomorrow, as the package should have been forwarded. Besides the point in the scheme of things.
WHAT IN GOD'S NAME GIVES YOU THE RIGHT TO OPEN AND KEEP SOMEONE ELSE'S PACKAGES AND/OR MAIL???? WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE??? YOU HAVE OFFICIALLY PISSED OFF SOMEONE WHO CAN NOW MAKE YOUR LIFE HELL AND I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAND THAT, BECAUSE THE WORST IS YET TO COME.
I suppose this is an old running joke...cleaning ladies who barge in on you.
Well, it happened to me today. Got back to the hotel from a corporate outing around 3. Took off the clothes to the underwear and tshirt and got on the phone to the wifey. When I talk on the phone, I pace. I also had an itch. I'm in my own suite. I entered the hanes boxer briefs with my left hand and began vigorously relieving the itch on my dick. Of course, Somali cleaning lady is in my doorway talking to me.
"Housekeeping?" "No, I'm fine." "Soap, conditioner?" "No." (Still scratching away, in my undies.) "Towels????"
This woman clearly isn't leaving. 10 seconds have gone by now. Still in my undies and a tshirt, scratching at that fuckin itch.
Rarely am I rude to people. Very, very rarely. Also, I have an anger problem and yell and scream a lot, but when I'm boiling point angry, I speak very softly.
"Lady, no towels please...just...just get out of here. I'm busy."
I understand there is a cultural void here, but my culture of taking out an itch in my undies in my suite is being violated here and that's not right.
On business in Cleveland. Things would be much better if I didn't have to drive, but my coworker in the territory next to mine has a van, which is ideal for carpooling. The company is always looking to save money, so by driving up to Ctown together, plus for social events, the van comes in handy to scoot everyone around.
If we can get there in one piece.
Unfortunately, my coworker, who I love to death and is one of the most god fearing men alive, happens to be one of those horrible central Ohio drivers. We have been beeped at at least 10-15 times on the way up and out and about Ctown. It is frightening. Merging into other cars, cutting people off, going 35 in the left lane on the highway...we are doing it all...and I'm riding shotgun giving directions via my TomTom, since he doesn't know how to use it.
If only life was this hard....go to college overseas...be in love...not have enough time with your significant other, only b/c you have the luxury of traveling EVERYWHERE for free.
I'm all about coming out for a community event. A charity 5k is honorable, except when it's ruined by people. You have the local runner's club...the crush everyone. But this past weekend, I saw a first. Behemoth bitch running (what do you call it???) the 5k...on a scooter. Unbelievable. She had a runner's number and everything. She was getting in everyone's way. She was even getting tired from operating the scooter and had to take a 30 second break. Awesome.
Ok, can't help this one. Awful song, awful acting, awful dancing (wow, let's set white folk back several million years and play on that stereo type...oh, but that's ok), awful product (heineken=rolling rock...might as well be Wester PA deer piss) awful casting...it's very quick (aka, much easier to see on a 46 inch HDTV). Notice the singing driver at 0:20. He clearly makes the commercial. Great, raspy, Louis Armstrong voice. However, this guy was not capable of driving the car. At 0:24, there is a much younger, thinner driver. So awfully noticeable, I thought I'd mragh.
Every now and then, I am compelled to rave about a product that I simply adore.
Awhile back, I went on here dissing LaCrosse brand nail clippers. I have found its opposite. The Trim brand nail clippers are the best nail clippers on the planet.
Of course, you will spend a couple more bucks on them...but fuck, how often do you use a fucking nail clipper? Yeah, seriously...like all the fuckin time! Buy this shit.
First off, blades are sharp as fuck, combine that with a concise and powerful lever action that allows you to use minimum force to chop through even my 1/8 inch toenails (revolting).
It also has a catch pan built in along the sides and underneath the blade. This catches a few of those pesky stray nails that are so often dropped with mortal nail clippers (and then you discover them like 2 weeks later when it goes through your foot).
I'm too lazy to look up the company, but the construction company that Mike Vick is going to "work" for is the big winner in this shit. You know they have some kind of backroom deal to go easy as fuck on Vick so he can get out early and work out. In exchange, they get a cut of his NFL contract...when and if it comes (Jerry Jones).
Seriously, everyone...now more than ever, with the bad economy...QUIT MOOCHING OFF OF YOUR PARENTS! I dunno if you knew this...but if you are 18+, you are considered an adult now! If you are out of college...go get a fucking job...any job. Move out, take some fucking responsibility and ownership for yourself. How long are you going to live with your parents, let them pay your rent/mortage, your cell phone, your car, your insurance, etc??? C'mon. We are becoming Europeans at an astonishing rate! I don't want to hear, "Oh, I can't find a job right now. Own it. Humble yourself. Go take a stepping stone job that will pay your bills until the economy improves and you can find a better one. Unless you're a Gatsby lush, that's what your parents did to succeed!
Watching Sports Reporters, now...it's a pretty lame shows nowadays. I like Mike Lupica...he's not a bad commentator or writer. The host, John Saunders is a black Canadian...and makes every single story a race issue. Dude, I could understand if you grew up in Alabama...however, there is definitely no such thing as racism in Canada...so shut the fuck up.
Anyways, one of the frequent contributors is mushy feel good writer and sports reporter Mitch Albom (Tuesdays with Morrie, The 5 People You Meet in Heaven)...WTF is up with his hair? Mr. Spock called and he wants his cut back!
Some of the most entertaining shit I've ever seen!
This guy died of an overdose...thank god...but basically, he was an awful hillbilly musician who would fight people, throw his shit, piss, rape, etc on stage. Amazing!
From a Mob boss who made his millions in dirty money, beat the Feds, did his time in jail, quit the mob, never took witness protection, cleaned up his life...and lived to tell about it. There are probably more than a "few" literal life lessons to be learned from Michael Frazese. His latest book is linked below. Even though his money was dirty, Franzes was more of a businessman than any Mafia boss since Al Capone. From his Gas Tax Scheme, he pulled in 10 Million a week alone. In his latest book, he talks about business...grab it.
"That nite I was made in 1980...I was with 6 other guys. Not one of them is alive today. Not one of them died of natural causes. I outlasted everyone in the life."
I'm do dabble in conspiracy theory, but nothing too crazy. It wouldn't surprise me in the least if this guy is kept alive by the mob for all his business deals and it's just another scheme.
I've never purchased a car. I've never owned a car. I've either borrowed a car or had one provided for me at work.
But ask any one of the handful of friends that has gone car shopping with me and they will attest that I am indeed the best person on the planet to go shopping with.
Meanwhile, I am helping another...and yes, I'm still dominating.
On a more hilarious note...who the fuck would buy a car on craigslist???
So, after you get drunk with your drinking buddy college friends for the last time, and after you go out to Carrabba's with your parents for your celebratory graduation dinner...and then they kiss you goodbye...let me be the first to say...welcome.
Hopefully, you're set up and you're going back home to work for Daddy's business or Daddy's friend's business. Hopefully, you have something lined up for the short term or shit, even an awful entry-level position will do these days....fuck, even a waiting job...I hope you do...b/c it's a bear out here...it really is. Maybe you'll move to LA and pursue that acting wet dream...now as irresponsible and reckless as that may seem to your parents...tell them to suck on some stones...to pursue a dream like that, there's absolutely no better time than now to do it...there's very little opportunity right now...so why the fuck not??? You're going to probably end up short-term being a barista or waiter anyways!! If ya got dreams, go after 'em! Hopefully, your parents will continue to fund you. Hey, for many of you...it won't be soooo bad...it will continue like it did in college...which was an extension of high school...it will be as if things never ended! And your parents will continue to pay your way until you die!
There's nothing you could have done in college to prepare for this reality...it was all lies....there was not a single truth that you learned along the way...and this is coming from someone who supposedly "made" it. I make $50 g, I've got a house, cars, 5 pets, a rock band, and I'm getting married in a few months. I've done pretty well for myself...and ask anyone...I was a FUCKING MESS when I graduated! If you got a useful degree, you're more than halfway there...but it will be useless if you are a social outcast. if you got a useless degree like me, I hope you can talk/communicate with people...and I hope you can get people to like you (networking).
Welcome to bills, to massive responsibility, to the worst economy since the Carter Administration, to taxes (the day you will realize that your profs you agreed with who professed liberal diatribe were wrong, especially with their 15 hr work weeks). Welcome to debt out the ass...serious mutha fuckin debt, to mac'n'cheese EVERY nite, to a new wardrobe that you can't afford for your new job (go to goodwill or redtagcrazy.com), to bosses, to your bosses bosses, to a shithole apartment in a bad part of town with too many sketchy and annoying roommates, to several moves by yourself and a U-haul (enjoy loading that fuck/beer stained couch you stole from the quad dumpster by yourself). Welcome to 40, 50, 80 hour work weeks, to overpriced rent, to inefficient houses so your energy costs are out the ass, welcome to kicking that drinking and/or drug habit you picked up (don't worry, it won't last...even that $10 case of Nati, $15 bar bill, and dime bag of $30 shwag will be out of reach...unless you really are stupid, at which point you will figure that out...if the 85 yr old greeters at walmart don't cause something to click in your head...I mean, you will hopefully make the right decision...rent or drank? hmmm). Welcome to the end of "free sex" (I mean, you may hit it lucky once a month, but it will never be like college!) so I hope you remembered how dating worked in high school (and now the women have even more expensive tastes!!!), welcome to working two jobs, to working weekends, to fitting your professional, personal, social, recreational, and sleep life into a 24 hr day...into a 168 hr week, welcome to 6 hrs max of sleep a nite and performing at the highest level, welcome to never skipping class/responsibility again!, to no more summer vacation (unless you're a slacker teacher...lucky fucks! And no, I didn't vote for your raise on that last levy! You only work 40 hr weeks and have summers off and more vacation than striking French postal workers! MRAGH!). Welcome to craigslist, to making careerbuilder.com you homepage as you feel like a filthy whore as you are constantly looking to upgrade from that shitty entry-level position you have, welcome to 100 resumes a week, to real life...bitch.
I have been asked by the wise graduates and soon to be graduates...what is it most that you miss from college?
There are quite a few luxuries I miss...but if I had to pick one, it would probably have to be the time. I played varsity sports, took 20 hrs of class, was "involved" with my frat/social scene, and even picked up a part-time job in my last year...and I thought I was busy! Nope...wrrrong...rack me on that one...you will wonder where all your time went. I promise you, don't be surprised if you cut your fantasy sports habit or if you play video games less than 30 hrs a week...the time is coming!
So get ready...life isn't fair and it's not all unicorns and scratch'n'sniff smell good stickers...open dat ass reallllly wide.
Now, enough of that doom and gloom...how did I make it?
Be relentless. Spit in the face of your detractors...trust yourself that the responsible decisions you are making are the right ones! Let everyone else sleep in...they've either fallen ass over end into a good situation or their ass is already pre-lubed.
Apply everywhere...and to anything. If it pays $30 gs, go for it!
Shut no door on yourself...let the person of authority make the decision (that's their job). I had 2 yrs less work experience than my job required, minimal retail experience, and beat out 320 candidates for my position (were you one of 'em, bitch?) If you don't think you may be qualified, apply anyways!
Pump out 100 plus resumes a week. Sounds bad, but with all the jobs sites...this is cake...all it takes is some hard work!
Stay unsatisfied...you will be miserable, but you will get what you need out of life in both the short and long term.
Accept the hand you have been dealt and make the most of it. This is the one I struggle with. I have lived a life of many...and I mean many "ifs." A lot of things will not go your way. Find a way to deal with them...I chose to drink initially and complain about how I got screwed...not the best way. Now, I still complain and think what If?...but I have found other ways to cope...by staying busy!
Know that you will get your head above water. No matter how bad it will get, even if you have to strip or work two jobs for 5 yrs....one day, if you are doing the right things and working your ass off...you will make it in this world...this is America...no matter how shitty we all think it is, there are people making homemade rafts and crossing the ocean and FUCKIN DYING to get here...they are stowing away on oil ships...they are crossing deserts...no, mutha fucker...there is no better place to build a life than here...even with the past 3 idiots in the white house
I guess what I have found out about the American Dream...whatever yours is...you may not get there...you may not get close...it's only b/c we are conceited and have too great of expectations...if you do the right things and work hard, you will be rewarded. You will find some kind of wealth, love, little house in the suburbs with an alright looking wife and kids, etc.
So, grads...get out there...make me proud! If you hated the malaise of college, all the useless bullshit you had to learn, and you are excited about getting paid to do work instead of paying for work...you might do well for yourself!
Maybe it's stupid...but, there are a lot of firsts that we as human beings go through in the stages of life.
1st kiss, 1st car, apartment on your own, etc.
I found this one interesting...and much less expensive/costly/regrettable than most...first garden hose.
It symbolizes prosperity...water for the garden and the yard for your first house. It also represents times of frustration...cleaning up mushed pet shit on your rug, spraying out the veggie drawer of your fridge b/c unbelievably, your fat ass forgot to eat the Costco sized 5 lb bag of spinach....didn't see that one coming.
Just something to think about here on Mother's Day...since I'm estranged from my abusive, drunken, pill addicted heifer of a Mom.
I watch this show...I usually dvr it. It's on the History Channel. The premise of the show is to go and quest for real life monsters...you dumbasses.
The show can basically be broken down like this. I give them credit...the stories they typically have are pretty damn interesting, at least for us with a mild interest in cryptozoology. From Bigfoot, prehistoric bears, lake monsters, etc...it's some pretty good stuff.
I watch it for the stories. The first hand accounts are typically interesting, especially if the witness appears to be credible enough (aka, has a job, family, a normal name). But then, the show takes a sorry ass turn...the actual "quest" as in performing a mini expedition to find the creature.
This is the worst part. They bring in experts, scientists, enthusiasts, and the proper tech and vehicle crews for the quest. These quests never turn up anything much of anything conclusive except for the giant squid and giant shark episode (these creatures were already known to exist). Since the evidence the crew gathers is so shitty, it often does harm to the possibility of the creature.
For instance, this week the crew was in search of a Lake Monster in British Columbia. They found a badly decomposed piece of meat at the bottom of the lake. Since it was so unusual and unrecognizable, they brought it to the lab all excited. After a quick DNA test, it was ruled with 100% accuracy that it was salmon. Fuck...and these experts were all excited!
On another more fruitful adventure concerning bigfoot, supposedly a bigfoot ransacked a family's summer cabin. He had allegedly stepped on a plank that had nails and screws facing up (very safe, btw) and left some DNA behind. They took it back to the lab and could not trace the DNA...of course, this doesn't mean anything...as the material could have been damaged, etc.
The show will always disappoint you in the end. I don't know why I continue to watch it. Lame.
My apologies to my Mexican decent readers...but today, being your holiday...it's time for me to make fun of you!
The truth about Cinco de Mayo...and no, it's not about pounding margaritas at El Vaquero's.
This may be the lamest of holidays...this is how the flow chart reads:
-Mexico's broke ass stopped paying interest on its loans from European powers. -The French (Holy shit!) got pissed and invaded!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! -The French got their asses kicked on May 5th, 1862 (typical). -The French returned and conquered Mexico within a year (Mexico, you are brutal). -France installed a puppet regime. -The US pressured France to get out...and they did in 1866. -For some reason, this holiday is still recognized.
This is like the US celebrating a Saigon Day. I guess when your history consists of nothing but being constantly conquered and exploited, you have to celebrate such meager accomplishments...like beating the French...and then getting conquered by them.
If you live in OH, you have probably noticed this massive campaign for safer motorcycling as the weather has slooooowly begun to warm.
Look it...I'm fine with the fact that there are quite a few people who like to motorcycle, ok. I don't mind...If you get off to that shit, fine. You have accepted the risks. You know damn well the danger you are getting yourself into. But I also know this....over half of you don't wear helmets, drive like dumbasses, speed excessively, drive drunk, hide in my blind spot, weave in and out of traffic, pop wheelies at 100 mph on the highway...etc.
So, when I'm driving on 270 and I see the traffic update sign flash me the signal of, "Motorists, watch your blind spots for motorcyclists!" I say suck it. I seriously doubt the rise in Ohio motorcycle fatalities in recent years has little to anything to do with our already shitty drivers driving any worse only with motorcyclists around. It has more to do with these same bad driving doofs getting into or onto their motorcycles that they suck even worse at operating, driving drunk, speeding, no helmet... mraghmraghmraghmragh-mragh!
I think it's even more ironic that the local government mandates that everyone needs to wear safety belts, yet, if you want to cruise down the road in a motorized, open bike with no helmet...go for it, bro! Dumb.
For the law-abiding motorcyclist, my apologies...but you know damn well that there are quite a few assholes in your brethren.
Myself and fellow contributor Mevs were discussing this topic today. We are going to do a follow up special on this...our goal is to seek out a Larper...if you know one, we want to conduct an interview...yes, my major was initially journalism...so it will be professional.
Break your big toe nail in half, swear so much you will guarantee yourself a spot in hell, throw out your back, pinch your pinkie, and have a stroke and heart attack...go ahead and put one of these dog crates together.
I don't consider myself special ed. I'm no Bob Villa, but I'm decently handy. I'm telling ya...a dog crate is a nightmare. It's basically working a three-dimensional puzzle made out of coathangers that folds like a suitcase and harms you. I dunno who designs these things, but they are not durable.
I'm sure if they are brand new, they behave fine. But ours is a little older...and when you have a 100 lb beast caged up and ramming into the sides of this thing, it tends to get bent out of shape. Because of these minor shifts, the intent of the initial design leaves no room for error. If there is even the slightest change from the original shape...fucked. So, in areas where a corner fit nicely or a piece that snaps into another piece once were harmonious, now they are oblong and require much extra effort just to get the damn thing to fit.
I did get the fucker, up though. I hope your happy.
Sorry folks...I've been out of town...final wedding plans.
As a treat, my soon to be Motnher In-law got us all great seats to the Fort Wayne Komets minor league hockey game. It's a wonderful time for the most part...a great facility and pretty quality hockey. I've lucked out. I've been to two games here. The first was an overtime brawlfest and Komet victory. Last nite's game was a 7-1 Komet mauling and now they are up 2-0 in the Turner Cup finals.
But as I am always aware of and why I prefer to stay home and watch most sporting events on tv...I simply don't enjoy people.
I will provide the panoramic view from my seat. Directly in front was extreme mullet and goatee with his wife, catcher's mitt face. She wore an overwhelming cheap ass eau du K-mart perfume...it reeked like sulphur. To their right was what I think was their offspring and his friends. They were all wasted and making fun of one of the Muskegon players for his mullet. I mean...dude, your father has a monster mullet...right?
And of course, directly behind us was a hillbilly family. Father and monther just trying to get their drink on...and were obviously terrible parents. As soon as they sat down behind us, their little 6 year old bitch of a daughter started throwing a fit that she had to go to the bathroom. Father Drank said, "Kira...der derp, you set yur ass down...we just tuk ya."
I mean, she reeked of piss anyways. I remember arriving and I simply could not place the scent. But, my fiancee leaned over and said, "The little girl behind me...she reeks of piss."
Unfortunately, Kira the piss girl was a rambunctious dancer...and this was encouraged by her parents. She kept dancing and her gyrations were wafting her piss smell down upon us. Like a great cloud. It was probably the reason why the Muskegon goalie sucked so bad. The press, talking to him.
"What was your biggest struggle tonite...why were the Komets so successful?" "Ahh, shit...ya know...honestly. There was this smell...like a cloud...it kinda fucked with my visibility...it made my eyes water...I think it was a piss girl."
To cap the nite, with about 5 mins left in the 3rd period, the dancing piss girl, Kira, was put on the jumbo tron. In the immediate foreground, was my irate fiancee...the look on her face was both homicidal and hilarious!
My fiancee and I have been working with a local pet adoption organization and by organization, I mean that VERY loosely. I dare not even to dwell into the misery the last month has been...all we are doing is trying to help. But, I must mragh.
This organization tells you that the animals are potty trained and crate trained and you end up getting the "pet" and it is more closer behaved to a wild animal. Both dogs decided to shit in the house as a means of communicating to you that they are not happy in their crate when they are put there for when we go on errands or go to work for the day. Doesn't sound like crate trained to me, does it?
You can let them out and take them for a walk. They will go pee and then just look at you...you tell them to go poop...they don't. You take them in. You come back from work about two hours later and they have shit in their crate, rolled in it, laid in it, and have thrown the shit with their paws all over the surrounding floor and wall. They also kick the tray of their crate out and stampede upon the shit with their paws, mushing it into the carpet. I was going to take a pic, but I was far too enraged and settled on cleaning up the defcon worthy mess immediately...and I'm sure my landlord would prefer that kind of action. Just imagine Taz, spinning around in a shitting rage out of control in your utility room...I'm sure you don't need an image now.
I will say one thing...the animals were good with the cats, as in, they didn't try to bite them...now charge them, chase them away...they did plenty of that.
All we are doing is trying to help, but as busy young professionals, we don't have the time to deal with an animal that decides to shit and roll in it once or twice a day. Leave that to someone on welfare, someone who is retired, a homemaker, or a college kid to deal with that. When you work 50-60 hour weeks...it simply is not possible.
Here is Barney, our soon to be last foster dog's write up for this "organization":
Hi, my name is Barney and I'm a sweet puppy with big feet and a bigger personality. I like to run in the grass and get lots of human hugs, but I also likes getting kisses on the nose from my kitty foster friends! I am potty trained and know how to sit and how to come to my name. I would prefer a big fenced yard so I can run around like a wild man and expend some energy (which I have a LOT of)! Come check me out, I give the best kisses (and lots of those too)!
What it should really read:
Hi, my name is Barney and I'm a nightmare with massive feet and a bigger personality. I like to run in the grass and get lots of human attention as I am a major lush. I will chase and intimidate your cats and make them so miserable that they will only live in the basement! I will let you know when I have to pee outside by trampling you at 3 am. When you let me out at lunch, I will pee for you, but wait until you have crated me so I can revenge shit and roll in it! Ha ha, bitches. I require one or two baths a day, depending on how many inside shits I can stop, drop, and roll in as I love to make shit angels in your carpet and hardwood floor! My Shaq sized feet also do a great job of shit mushing! I will only be happy with a large fenced in yard so I can run around and be a terror beast. Come check me out, as I will lick you into your skin becomes raw and chafed!
I'm very upset. I feel like a quitter. I want to help these animals find a home. However, I am convinced that this group is not being forthcoming concerning the animals' flaws, it leaves us no choice but to leave them. As my brother just said, "You know as soon as they hand off the dog to you, they are saying...that poor bastard...he's fucked....let's see how long this lasts!"
Quietly, like the silent fart that Barney, the foster dog just made as it caught my window fan perfectly, surging violently into my nostrils...we are at 100 posts against the ignorant...but we have so much further to go. I'm looking to expand the field. I'm looking for contributions and other ideas...I want to start expanding this thing and take it to the next level. I want my way of thinking to become mainstream...bc usually, I'm right...not always...but often. I know that this is a very small thing that I do, but I must do it...I must destroy the ignorant...join me!
45 seconds in...ya can't see his hair...they cropped it out...he's definitely balding though...he bobs his head and his skimpy hairline peaks down!
This is just like a doctor with glasses plugging a lasik commercial, or a Chevy salesman who drives a Honda, or a gay guy judging Ms. Universe, or Michael Moore doing a nutrisystem commercial...either way, how credible can this shit be if the DOC plugging it doesn't use it...or if he did, it didn't work. I have a hard time believing he enjoys being bald.
Nice try, Bosley...you have conned millions...but you didn't full Mragh or Mragh's readers!
As part of my effort to give back to the community, I foster dogs for an area pet adoption service. See...I'm not that rotten of a person, after all!
I am pretty experienced with dogs. I used to work as a trainer and dog walker.
But I gotta say, one of my least favorite breeds apparently happens to be the only dog made available to me.
For the second time, I have gone to the shelter to pick up a Labrador.
Temperament wise, these dogs are fine...but seriously, this dog is one of the lamest breed. They come in two types, wild and caustically stupid or severe nausea inducing needy drip.
Unbelievably, both types of dog are incredibly accommodating for our stupid society! How many people ignorantly tolerate their "dumb dog" no matter what he does. Eats the wall, shits on your pillow, barks until he throws up on your rug, eats the trash, eats his own shit, etc. People love it...b/c they are too fucking lazy to take two seconds to correct their animal. "Ahhh...fuck...sorry that he's chewing on your crotch. He's just dumb dog...it's not his fault."
In my opinion, nothing is worse than the needy drip lab. Beat him and abuse him, he will love you irregardless. Leave the room to piss, he will follow you...where ya goin, boss? "Oh please, please, please, please...plllllease don't leave me for two seconds. " Sit down on your couch, he's laying on your feet. Go to work, he will cry for hours after you leave...and once you get home, he won't leave you alone! He is so excited to see you, he won't eat, drink, piss, or shit for at least seven hours b/c he wants nothing more than to spend every waking second with you. Yuck. Now you know why girls hate needy guys so much!! "Ahhh...fuck...oh, look at him. He's licking everyone non-stop. Ohhhh...I'm such a good owner...he loves me sooo much. I'm so good to him. He loves me! He really loves me...and I've done nothing for him to do so...wait, what am I talking about...I have trained him. He can sit! And heel...sometimes. Oh, he just loves everyone, I'm the best owner...blah blah blah."
I'm fine with a dog that loves me...and wants to see me when I come home...but I just don't want something that obsessively allows his world to revolve around me! I mean, fuck...if this is what you want with a dog, America, ya gotta check yourself. All it means is you want stupid, you want a doofus peasant to worship your ego and severe megalomania. Fuck off if you have a lab...
But, just in case ya want one...I have the PERFECT nausea inducing needy kind of lab right here...laying on my feet. He's exhausted b/c he was punished by being crated...as he was horrified to his soul by a hissing Foofen (my miniature cat) and lost his bowels in my bedroom. I can't imagine how big of a dump he'll take if a Yeti breaks into the house. He's tired, b/c he barked for 2 hours straight...struggling to get out of his crate. Lame labs.
"I got hit head on by a tsetse flea and was laid up for 2 years." "I gave all of my fat clothes to my fat friends." Now, a handful of fat children who shop at the thrift store have a plethora of outfits thanks to Brian Alvarez. "I hated my body." That's a manly comment. "My muscles started getting toned again....I have muscles I didn't have in high school" Brian...where are these muscles??? "I went from a 38 to a size 30." Size 30...in boys. "My [fat] wife gives me that little look every now and then." Wife is officially fatter than me...unless this heifer hopped on the bowflex too...which she didn't or else they'd show her using it and it would be a couple success story.
It never gets old...even though, this footage happens to be a little old. Why not reflect upon it as I raced home early from work to watch the Cards complete the sweep of my Mets?
and decided that a week without shaving, bathing, and growing the hair out was a swell idea. Take a look at those grotesque sideburns at 0:41...how many head of dust mite are in that???
I had a stinkee friend back in the day. He was stinky. We called his room Stalingrad...bc of the smell.
One day, he transferred...mysteriously leaving all of his shit behind. Everything...including his fouton.
It was one of your typical wal-mart foutons, ya know...shittily made metal frame, black fouton mat.
I mentioned, bathing was not his forte. After workouts, he would just go back to Stalingrad and lay on his fouton...all stinky. Sure enough, when the fouton was desheeted, there was a dry, crusted, white aura of old sweat in the shape of a body. He had left his holy mark on the fouton.
As a music enthusiast and local band frontman, I thought I'd take some time to hate on some really shitty artists out there
I walked by these clowns on a few Warped Tours back in the day...holy shit, there could not be anything that sounded worse. From the singer's off pitch singing, the bass and guitars just off tempo...god.
Dude, these guys have vocals being played back on tape during the chorus like Britney Spears...wow, that's lame. They are a perfect example of low talent, but great artistic vision...it definitely doesn't carry to the stage. Get to about 2:40...wow, it's brutal. Just never can hit the notes, bro.
Really...how lame is this? They have such an empty sound. The singer has no range or texture in his voice.
Very sloppy timing...and of course, the singer can't find his way around a scale. Love these guys...but I heard they blow live...I was right...out of all the artists up here, they are the only one I like and actually listen to...I won't stop listening to their music, but I probably will never go see them live.
I dunno, this just seems very, very wrong to me. The level of perversion is just unbearable.
Now, the personal touch...how did I come across this ad? I'm not gay nor bisexual...but, to me...I find these hilarious. Sadly, in my spare time, every couple of days, I do entertain myself to pictures of cocks and craigslist ads...but hey, if that makes me a flameuse, I'm a flameuse. There's just something horribly fascinating about resorting to this sort of behavior.
I think I just really enjoy finding the hideous cock pics and sending them to my friends...but especially to my little bro. Here is an aim transcript from tonite:
Bro: (12:07:20 AM): can't sleep either Me:(12:07:28 AM): http://columbus.craigslist.org/m4m/1131968199.html/ Bro:12 (12:07:39 AM): its prolly a cock Me:(12:07:53 AM): nah, it's not i swear Bro:12 (12:08:00 AM): wat is it Me:(12:08:11 AM): it's this skiing pic Bro:12 (12:08:27 AM): y r u looking at skiing pics Me:(12:08:48 AM): i thought i'd look into getting a snowmobile while they are out of season Bro:12 (12:09:00 AM): bullshit Bro:12 (12:09:03 AM): i don't buy it
See, in the past...I got him great...plenty. First, I just got him with regular links. Then, I learned to disguise the links...you know, have the link say something. But, for now...after about half a dozen times, I think he knows that he can scroll over it to see the link reveal itself...I gotta come up with something else to thwart him!
Viagra commercials are supposed to insight many things.
Hope for the ancient dicked.
Disgust for younger people.
Annoyance by us who watch tv and see it a million times.
I have another thought that comes to mind...about gray pubes mashing...does anyone else think about this? I mean, you know old people don't keep up with things down there.
I used to work at a day camp that was at a public university. We had a designated swimming time allotted for the campers. Well, in the showers would be the pool members...all old guys...ass naked...it was awful...I mean, dude...c'mon, these are little kids...nobody and I mean nobody, especially little kids, wants to see this shit.
What was amazing was the pubeage of these old dudes. I mean, they had pube beards down to their mid thighs...I'm not even joking. The shower soaked, gray pubes were woolly...whatever semblance of dicks these guys were packing were nowhere to be seen.
Now, I don't even want to imagine these things, viagra inflated, in action attacking a fellow pube forest.
I would hire this kid...go to about :50 in the clip...the kid will appear in the foreground, lower right. He's hilarious to me! Fantastic acting...the expressions he makes captures the essence of teenie angst/frustration with our parents. Not to mention...carefully watch his lips...I think he mouths, "What the fuck..."
In an agreement to help me lose weight and curb my hunger, my fiancee has tentatively agreed to allow me to dip again...after 2 years of kicking the habit. There's no doubt it helps, but it is an awful habit...it's just so very, very delicious.
Dip is very messy. No matter how many times you wash your hands, you can't get all of it off our pinch fingers...which happen to be my right pointer and thumb. My right pointer happens to be my contact applier and remover finger.
So, when I'm handling my contacts after dipping, no matter how many washes, I still get nicotine directly to the eye. It stings so intensely! Only for a moment, though.
It's a new nasal spray...I couldn't find the commercial online, but all I can say is...boy, the marketing department was asleep at the wheel on this one.
I've picked up a new hobby: running. I know, it sounds shocking...I've always hated it, but hey, I've always love to punish myself...at least this is healthy.
So I tried to go to Antrim Park the other day after work. Of course, there wasn't a parking spot available. Everyone in Columbus was there. No thanks.
So, I decided to head back home and try running in the church parking lot across the street.
It went great until I was about 3/4 of the way through my run.
First, what appeared to be the pastor showed up...and he decided to engage me...probably in hopes of converting me....but he didn't...he was just being a nice person.
Then, up the ridge, came a wacky father and his teenaged son with their dumb as fuck black lab.
Of course, in this situation, one would expect the teenager to misbehave. But he didn't. He was mild mannered, respectful and was all about walking his dog.
But no, this asshole old man got goin on me. I have to stop every now and then to catch my breath. And when I did, this wisefuck starts cheering and clapping like he's at the Boston Marathon.
"Woo-hoo...Come on, buddy!"
God...I didn't even know how to react. I couldn't smile, not bc I was tired, but bc this is about the rudest thing you could do...disguised as being nice...pure phoniness.
He's cheering and shit...for like 5 mins. Unfortunately for me, I was out of breath and I couldn't muster up anything to say. Fortunately even more for him, he was about half a football field away from me.
It ruined my day. I just want to work out ya know. Lose my college weight...and I gotta be heckled by some bozo who can't keep his dog from feasting on it's own dog shit (which is what it was doing the whole time).
The last thing I was gonna do was be amusement for this dicksucker...so, I ran across the street and through my front door...and finished on the elliptical.
I think I'm gonna stay on this bitch for awhile. Sure, it's not as good as running...but even with my new shoes, running is murder on my feet. Of course, I'll still go on runs with my fiancee, but I think I'm gonna do the bulk of my workouts on the elliptical. I can blog more...and of course, watch my big screen...much better than dealing with fellow joggers, dogs, the elements, and people enjoying my suffering like their watching an execution and a ballgame wrapped into one.
So I did some light grocery shopping today at Marc's...just needed to pick up a few items.
My Jeep is packed with display building material, so I couldn't put anything in the back. Therefore, all of my groceries had to be placed in the front seat.
Well, Marc's had a great 3/$10 deal on Pepsi Max 12 packs...so I was all over that...but you also got a free Diet Pepsi 12 pack. This, combined with my other purchases created enough weight to activate my seatbelt safety sensor.
It has become an industry standard in new vehicles. If someone or in this case, something is in either one of the front seats with the car on, the car is going to let you know that they need to buckle up.
I only live a couple miles from Marc's, but after about 3 blocks...the beeping became unbearable. So, while stopped at a traffic light, I buckled up my groceries.
I dunno if there even is a solution to this, as having an off button for the seatbelt warning defeats the purpose as the millions who continue to drive unbuckled and love the thrill of entertaining the possibility of crashing out the front windshield and eating pure asphalt is still appealing.
So in the meantime, I guess all of us with this neat little safety feature are going to have to cope by buckling up......our groceries.
It's the third time I've done this in the past year.
We have these things called resets. Basically, the store wants to reorganize itself b/c it has been a slacker for too long and finally, they are fed up with themselves.
This reset occured in Zanesville at 6 pm. I don't want to miss out on sales, so I worked my normal 7-5 day...no big.
Now with these resets, you never know what to expect...but what I'm learning quickly is to always anticipate the worst.
I knew shit wasn't going to go well when they wanted to move the entire cereal aisle...however, the aisle where we were intending to move everything was full of flour. Flour is fucking heavy...and dusty. So, we slaved and slaved and moved the flour. I was supposed to get help from one of these brokers. His coworkers mentioned that he had conveniently "thought the reset was the next nite." God.
So I bust my dick all nite. All nite. While you slept. While everyone else in the world is sleeping. While that cunthole who ditched me is sleeping.
And I create magic...but I didn't completely finish...so at 3 am, I called it quits and drove home. I ended up returning today to finish it.
It ruined my week and hurt my sales numbers...and I went above and beyond and I didn't end up getting paid anymore money for working overtime. There really is no advantage to it. Union guys, listen up...I did it bc I love my job, my company, and the fat paycheck they deposit into my bank account every two weeks. I did it to show thanks to my company, as well as to go above and beyond to provide stellar service to my customers. Union guy, you won't understand that...bc you would have gone home as soon as your 8 hours were up...errr, after 3 15 min breaks and a 30 min lunch...so, 6 hours plus a poop break. You people make me sick and until GM, Ford, and the rest of the Union exclusive companies in the entire states of Michigan and Ohio figure it out that Unions are corrupt, outdated, and promote sloth...you can suck it...bc in one nite, I worked half your work week.
I have to watch what I say. Unlike most controversial bloggers in the world, I'm not anonymous, I'm not anti-establishment, and I'm not unemployed. I work for the man and as honest as my posts are, the vast majority of people, primarily corporate types, would despise my stuff. So, this is going to be an invite only thing.
In trying to shed weight and I am stunned by my change in attitude...but, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised.
Believe it or not, there was a time when I was in stellar shape...maybe even a little narcissistic and I had a bit of a bad attitude and outlook on life.
But when I got fat, I mellowed out. I was less concerned about how I looked and felt. I wasn't so uptight. I wasn't worried about impressing anyone. It honestly helped make me the happy, successful person I am.
Over the years, I've watched friends and peers struggle with weight problems/body issues. I've seen people completely let themselves go and become morbidly obese, but I've seen even more of my peers shape up and their new abs and biceps detracted from their personality and they were just a shell of their old self.
Gone were the smiles, jokes, looseness, unselfishness and in with the selfish self image. I can remember these guys starving themselves, eating nothing but apples and peanut butter sandwiches and working out for 5 hours everyday. Is that really anyway to live? Who am I to debate that...I liked to just sit around and drink beers and eat.
Whether you agree with that lifestyle or not, one thing cannot be ignored. When you become so preoccupied with yourself: you health, your appearance, you attractiveness...part of who you were dies with that plate of stromboli you refuse to eat or that six of beer you no longer enjoy on the weekend. Being a health nutcase is a religion in itself and I caution those who venture down that road...just bc you start shaping up on the outside, the beautiful inner you can easily get dissolved away! Don't believe me? Think about the hottest, most popular girl in high school...how was her personality? Probably smelled like an unwashed elephant grundle.
Back to my quest...wow, I'm getting after it. This is by far the hardest I've worked since retiring from sports. There's a shitload of pressure, believe it or not. My family bugs me all the time for being fat (yes, I'm lucky I wasn't born a girl...I'd have an eating disorder for sure). My friends dig me for being fat. People judge me for being fat. My coworkers judge me for being fat. My fiancee wants me to be skinny again...and I can't blame her...I dunno how I'd feel if she put on 50 lbs in 3 years.
But what she must realize...I'm a busy guy and much of the time that is typically spent with her will now selfishly be spent on me...and losing a significant portion of me. And this has placed a bit of a strain on our relationship, lately.
I'm chippy. I'm rude. I'm taking out a lot of my angst on her. Fuck, I hate working out...but, I feel that she is somehow responsible for some of my weight gain simply bc it correlates since we've been together! Maybe that's an easy way to justify it and even though that's how I chose act, those were my actions that got me to my fatness. So, I am officially owning it. Now, that can't mean that you can get in the way. EVERYONE...steer clear of me. Don't invite me to eat at Golden Corrale. Don't ask me to go drinking. Don't ask me to take a trip to the store with you during my workout time.
To desire to be rocked up, you have to be conceited and it's very hard for someone like me who really doesn't dwell on my physique. Yeah, I'm being a fruitcake and counting calories like a 10th grade girl, and eating Kashi like a fuckin tree hugger, and staying away from pasta and booze. It's sad, bc pasta and booze are a big part of who I am! Literally! And without that, I'm already a different person...and I can't have that back until my fat is gone!
Honestly, the main motivators to get back in shape are these...in this order:
1. I hate not being able to eat and drink what I want. I love having some beers. I love cooking great meals. I like going out to awesome restaurants. Every single time I indulge, I hear about it. I'm fuckin sick of it. 2. I'm tired of talking about how fat I am everynite to my father and every weekend to my grandparents. I'm tired of talking about my fatness to my friends when I haven't seen them in a long time. I'm tired of talking to my coworkers about it. I'm just tired of talking about it, ok...I get the point...I'm still fat and I'm doing the best I can to fix it. Just shut up, already...there is so much more to talk about. You aren't helping. I don't need 500 weight therapists. To lose weight, the fatty has to do it on their own, ok. 3. I want to look good for my wedding...really, I could give a fuck. But, EVERYONE else gives a fuck...so how can I disappoint everyone!? 4. There are other types of favors I want again.
So, I'm getting after it...fighting the battle against my waist, but also within. I don't want to lose my personality...I don't want to be completely different person when I drop this fat. So, really...I have two goals...lose my gut...but keep my personality.
I want to reiterate to the readers...I do not support the vast majority of the as seen on tv products. The vast majority of them are junk and I was reminded of that from my family when I was young. But I couldn't help but think that shit, some of those must work. And they do.
I got a Save A Blade for Christmas bc I spend thousands a year on blades. Working for a large corporation and having thick as beard stubble does not work out well on the wallet. It's one of the reasons I refuse to upgrade from my Mach 3...shit will just get more and more expensive!
I even quit my Mach 3 for awhile bc after 2 uses, it was dull as a plastic cutlery. So, my mother in law got wind of this and purchased me a Save A Blade.
Does it work? Fuck yeah...but, you must be using a gillette made multi blade. Sure, it works for other disposables, but nowhere near as well.
I can comfortably use a single blade cartridge for a month! That's pretty damned good!
So, if you have a thick beard and want to stimulate the economy with some disposable income, grab a Save A Blade!
So, I've determined that it's on....Attention all central OH softball guys...I'm going to kick the living piss out of you in rec league at Berliner Park. I am going to treat you like the scum that you are and rely on my baseball skills to do it. I'm gonna talk shit and intimidate...I'm going to almost become you, but I will still know the difference that I have a life and that this is still Rec League softball at Berliner.
Softball is the death of any ballplayer. The day you pick up the big ball, you are dead as a ballplayer. It's a fact.
Well, that happened to me last spring. I was talked into playing competitive co-ed softball by some friends. Unfortunately for me, there was no way to prepare for such a horrible experience.
First game, we played the best team in our division. These guys and gals were fucking serious.
Eye black, wristbands, real uniforms, top of the line bats, batting gloves for hitting and running the bases, sunglasses, a guy that had had a sex change into a woman...I mean, they didn't have two beans to put together, but fuck, they had softball gear.
It was appalling. They were rude, talking shit...I mean, stuff I never encountered on a baseball diamond...and yes, shit talking actually DOES happen in copious amounts in competitive baseball. Don't they understand that this is recreational? Don't they understand that this is a sport that ANYONE can play? I mean, it's in the Special Olympics!!
My team isn't very good. It is a motley crew of bar hoppers, degenerates, and delinquents. I think at one time, everybody played JV sports somewhere along the line...but we don't have any standouts. I mean, I fucking play shortstop for christ sakes...something I haven't done in baseball since my freshman year of high school....I think that provides a pretty good gauge for where we stand.
So, another season is brewing...it's just around the corner...and I'm coming to grips with some plans to deal with softball guy.
I get it bad from the softball guys. Since I'm one of the better players on our awful team, they get after me. After legging out an infield hit: "Hey, fatass...nice hustle! Great running form, fatty." After making a diving play: "Look guys, it's a 400 lb Jeter!" When I'm at the bat, "Now batting, Jabba the Hut." ETC....
I was a rookie last year...and I just wasn't prepared. Sure I got into it with these guys, but I just wasn't ready for the level of intensity of the ridicule. This year, I'm coming with it...I'm not hesitating to make fun of softball guy...in fact, I plan on instigating softball guy. I mean, he's never played competitively at anything but the low pressure softball...if someone gets into these guys heads, I bet they crack like bitches.
So, we'll see how it goes. So, softball guy...be prepared, I'm going to emasculate you not with my awesome play, but with shit speak that will horrify you and your fat, 4 toothed girlfriend.
So, at Lowe's today...we are interested in starting a little garden. Why not...we have a great spot for it...plus, we like fresh veggies, herbs, and nice flowers.
So, this typical ignorant bitch bumblefucky from central OH is looking at the seeds with her spouse. She's pawing through the seeds frantically and exclaims, "I don't want any of these. They are way more expensive."
Ok...let me reiterate the activity that we were doing. SEED SHOPPING.
In case you don't know, seeds range from $.99 to $1.42. So let's do some rough math, people...how much money could she possibly be saving? I don't think skimping on your seed purchase is gonna effect your spend that much, cunt. MRAGH!!!
But last week, I was running very late for a morning meeting with my boss and honestly, I was a little gamey. I had awakened on time, however, I could not find an important document for the meeting (Hey, I only moved a little while ago). So, I reached for the nearest cure.
Hey, be appalled or call it resourcefulness...I always find a way to win, no matter what it takes.
He did this before he left...his new family is going to love him. I couldn't help but feel a bit rotten about not being entirely forthcoming about his behavior, but they have a large fenced in yard...and it sounds like the dogs are kept out there the vast majority of the time...so too bad. HE'S GONE!
All in all, Ace was very nice and loving...but he wasn't the right dog for me...not only was he incredibly dumb, he would leave dumps that looked like Trace Adkins had come by for a beer and had plopped his boots down on the floor.
Not everyone is privileged enough to know what a vagassa is, let alone, if you've ever heard of one....or smelled one.
But, unlike bigfoot and martians, I have scientific proof of a vagassa's existence...in my own home! One of my kitties has a vagassa.
Vagassa(n)-A uniform hole that serves as both a rectum and a vagina. Over time, a vagassa is formed by constant obsessive grooming, causing the taint to be completely eroded away and connecting both orifices as one.
There is nothing more hideous than a vagassa. It reeks...it usually finds its way into my face when Bebe wants attention. It smells like rotten kimchi...sickeningly sweet b.o. with a hint of ass matter...not pleasant.
If you ever want to see it in person, come on by my house...I'm sure Bebe will find someway to flaunt it in your face...that is, if you don't smell it first...or maybe, she might put it on you...eek.
We noticed the vagassa forming about two years ago. It did seem to happen almost overnite. An OCD grooming disorder has caused this seething caldera of stank to form. Once, upon a road trip, the Bebe was very intent and aggressive upon getting extra attention. She would not leave me alone. She mounted my seat from just over my left shoulder and like Shaq posting up Greg Oostertaag, she was forcing her vagassa towards my face. She pushed on me with her heavily soiled ass for almost 10 mins before I was able to find a kitty treat and throw it on the floor. It was an awful experience.
The vagassa has been placed on me a few times. The worst encounter I had with the vagassa was when Bebe sat on my arm while I was sleeping. I awakened to her usual high pitched meow, but accompanied with a squishy, slimey, rubbery feelign spot on my armed! I gasped. I then proceded to wash my arm with lysol.
Maybe I'm an awful person, but I enjoy falling asleep to episodes of Cheaters...all the crying, moaning, lying...it's awesome to me. The show is a prime example of how disgusting our society is...and, I indulge. Joey Greco is an awful person...I mean, the guy is just pure phony.
They do help people, people who are ignoring the reality of their situation...but at a price...you have to "confront" your soon to be ex-lover for the cameras! Mragh!
I dunno how many of you have seen the show, but fuck...99 out of 100 times, I can't help but see the person being cheated on and go, yep...I know why they're gettin cheated on.
Some people are hideous, unemployed, morbidly obese, just look bad in the sack, look psycho controlling, trophy wife/husband situation, etc. I mean, don't these people know...shit, there's a reason why I'm getting cheated on...in many cases, you can rationalize with the cheater, even though...they aren't in the right at all. Cheating is pretty rotten in my book.
If you are getting cheated on, very, very rarely are you blameless. The signs of your partners' disinterest or the the downhill tumble of your relationship...those signs are all there. They are unmistakable...if you can't sense them, say hello to Joey Greco and prepare to get embarrassed.
To keep yourself from being cheated on, you have to be worth it...you have to be desirable and able to adapt to the changes that occur in a relationship. If you are unwilling to work with your partner, you may also end up on this show.
Ace does most things great! He's very nice and loving to us and our kitties. However, I've been around many, many dogs in my day...and I'm afraid Ace ranks up there as one of the lightest in the cranium I've ever been around.
People are pleading with us to keep him. My grandparents want to facheme me upside the head for not keeping him...but, I shall outline the argument for not keeping Ace and finding him a home.
1. Ace is dumb-He just isn't too bright. He listens well, but he is fuckin ADD beyond belief. He is distracted by his own farts or if a blade of grass blows in the wind, or if he sniffs too loud. There is a certain degree of concentration, focus, and intelligence that a beast must have to become my dog.
2. Ace doesn't understand urgency-It's not his fault, I guess. Ace, when I take you outside in the morning to piss, it's usually when I'm running late and I don't have 20 mins to watch you stand, wag your tail, and look at me with a confused look on your face. Dude, you have to go piss. I know your old Daddy would only take you out for random smoke breaks and you guys took your time b/c he was a an unemployed, lazy fuck...but Ace, I work long hours and I don't smoke...so get the fuck out there and piss and shit. He does the same shit when we go outside. I let him through the screen, he turns left, heading towards the driveway (no, Ace...that's not where the yard is). We then go out into the yard...I try to remain hopeful, just praying for a bowel movement...probably one of god's stranger, consistent prayer requests. After about 2 mins of sniffing, I encourage him to go pee pee. He acknowledges me with a stupid face and tail wagging. Then, for the next 15-20 mins, he will continue to walk at a leisurely pace around me in a circle, sniffing the ground nervously...and I have to do a little pirouette. This is the most infuriating part, b/c...dude, it's your only chance...I'm not gonna be home til after 5pm! We often take him out 3-4 times in an hour.
3. Ace needs to be told to eat-What fucking dog needs to learn the command "eat?" Good thing I don't have to tell him to "Breathe, Ace...breathe like a good boy!"
4. Ace doesn't know when to just fuck off-Dude, it's not your fault you were severely neglected, but that doesn't mean that you can gain back all those hours of neglect at once with us. We don't need to hang out constantly, with you in my lap, dripping your smegma coated penis all over my leg. Sometimes, I just want to watch tv, or cuddle with my kitty, or write this blog. It's even worse for my fiancee. He CANNOT leave her alone. He is severely possessive of her. He is constantly seeking her approval, in her face on the chaise. Brutal.
5. Ace has accidents moments after coming inside-After a marathon waiting session outside in the cold over the weekend, waiting for him to do anything besides tie me up with his leash and piss, Ace decided to take a dino dump in my basement minutes after I gave up and brought him in. Today, my fiancee let him out...he actually went! Then he came inside and puked everywhere, literally seconds after being brought in.
Ace needs a family that has little kids...a family that can give him infinite love and attention...something that two young professionals cannot.
