Thursday, February 16, 2012

W is for...Winning Westminster


PSYCH! If you've never heard of me you can pick your weak ass up off the flo' and use that door! Don't let it hit you on the way out either, cuz I probably own that door. I OWN! I have crazy investments everywhere and you probably even work for me. I'm your bozz.

K so straight up it's like this. I'm not one bit surprised I won Westminster this year and that shouldn't surprise ya'll either. But I'd be crazy clueless if I didn't think some of you out there wuz HATERS, and now you recognize my grandeur. GRAND! EUR! I like iz crazy successful. But yo, I'll let you scratch my belly if you wanna scratch it, you know what I mean? A wize man once sed 2 me that if people want to love you, you best let them. Because If I wuz you, I'd luv my ass too. I WIN!

ANYwaze, game day was pretty standard. I was saggin' from the night before, cuz if any of you have ever been to Westminster before (probs haven't, it's elite) your weak asses would know that the night before is off tha hook. Like, prolly 30 shots sorta thing? Wuz absolutely WASTED with that girl from Survivor. She was the one who was crying cuz she missed her family cuz they wuz in the jungle or whatever? K ya whateverz. She was hot. And ya, we made out hard.  She wasn't the only one that night (OBVS) but defs the first gurl from Survivor I ever hooked up wit. DOUBT IT'S DA LAST THO!!!11

So whatevs, ated my pre-game burrito like usual and just threw on my shades in the back of da limo on the way 2 da showz. HUNG! But I knew whut I had 2 do so I just didn't stress.

By the time we showed up I was sorta trippin. I ated McDonalds the night before cuz I was starving (always get hungry when I do drugs) and it was almost show time. OH NO, PRE-GAME DEUCE!! So I told da boyz I was gonna go look for a bathroom to do my thing at. I was wearing a toque and hoodie cuz A. I was looking like shit, and B. MEDIA! FANZ! Celebs trying to get endorsements and shitz from me! So I gotta roll low profile, you know?

So I'm looking around for da poop room and out of nowhere I run into none other than:


I was like CRISSCRISSCRISS yelling my head off at him but he obvs couldn't tell who I wuz cuz of my toque and shades, so he didn't say anything back but whateverz I was busy too and he is probably a big fan of mine so I don't really think I could stop and chat anyway. 

Did my thing in the bathroom and was like SO GOOD LETS DO THIS!!1

And then I won the show. Don't need to tell you bout that cuz you obvs watched it fo sho. This is wut I have to sez about my competitors tho:

Dalmatian - Relax wit da spots!
Dachshund - Ur name sounds like a sneeze. Bless you.
German shepherd - Ur ugly, go back to Germania. Leave your girlfriend here.
Doberman pinscher - Didn't see him pinch nobody. All bark no bite (pun).
Irish setter - Nobody cares about gingers.
Kerry blue terrier - Not blue. Dunno who Kerry is but she makes shitty dogs.

After I won, it was pretty much like this for da next couple dayz:

OH YA BABY take my picturez, those shits last longer. No autographs tho. I don't have thumbs.

I know what you fellas are gonna ask, so I'll just say this: Yes I did! And she iz a freak!

I'm like already half cut.

Not now lady, we are on da newz!

So ya, total party time stuff. And like I said b4, maybe a lot of peeple like me more now, but whatever. I wud love me too If I was so as unsweet as you were compared to how sweet I iz. So we don't even bother going there.

So what happens now for Da Big Sweep AKA DA PRINCE PEKINGESE?



Tuesday, February 14, 2012

V is for...Valentimebs

Here we are again, the day of love sitting right on top of our faces. Who can remember their first Valentine? Anyone?

I remember the nervousness. The cookies. The Hersheys Hugs n' Kisses. The hugs n' kisses. The cinnamon hearts. My cheapskate Kindergarten classmates giving away the same versions of Barney valentines to each other. Feigning some sort of meaningful love for each other, knowing full well that nobody actually loved the stinky kid with that weird blue shit in his hair. What was that blue shit anyway? Probably pool cue chalk. Or maybe it was just some sort of physical embodiment of "I don't care what I look like because I'm just too damn rock n' roll for kindergarten." But most likely it was pool cue chalk.

All the kids in the classroom had their brown paper bags hanging from the front of their desk, personalized with decorations. Macaroni, sparkles, tissue paper, stickers. In retrospect, I guess we were already learning how to send out the signal, luring otherwise uninterested colleagues into some sort of mating game. My paper bag was pretty basic, decorated with only a name written in green smelly marker. The tail of the Y underlined my name and connected to the back of the K. Just enough to say "Who cares" whilst also saying "I'm a freak, come explore me".

My not-so-secret admirer swooped in and dropped a valentine off for me, immediately overstaying her welcome. She stood at my desk in her saucy elastic-band sweatpants, velcros, and bed head. She clearly hadn't brushed her teeth yet but she did have a Kool-Aid moustache. A floozy if I'd ever seen one.

 It was at that point my crush entered the classroom. She was one of the last girls to arrive, which is just one more thing I loved about her. I took a deep breath and slicked my hair back as I walked across the soft carpet that I had slept on so many times before. I reminded myself not to tell her how long I had worked on her valentine the night before. Play it cool I told myself. You got this.

Right before I got to her desk I panicked. Drop that shit off and lets get the hell out of here. I put my fancy valentine in her paper bag and spun around to walk away.

"Thank you for the valentine, Kelly!" she said.

I turned around and she was pulling it out of the bag to look at the fancy beads I'd glued on. I didn't know what to say, so she spoke for me.

"It looks great! Now take your seat, I'm about to start class".

Happy Valentines day.


Thursday, February 09, 2012

U is for...Undo

Mankind has made some huge mistakes in the past and here are some of the ones I think should be undone. Or at the very least, how they should have been avoided.


Pooping on ourselves? Yeah, no thanks. Babies have enjoyed centuries of being absolute free loaders (as in free to load their diapers). Have some dignity, babies. Had we just toilet trained ourselves from the start, these gross versions of underwear could have been totally obsolete and trash cans would only have to smell like rotting food and your drunk uncle's vomit.

Family Guy
Instead of making a spin-off of The Simpsons and calling it Family Guy, imagine if they would have made a spin-off of The Simpsons, used pre-existing characters from The Simpsons, used the same kind of humor as The Simpsons, and not relied entirely on flashbacks and nerdy inside jokes to make a show that tries as hard as it is funny. Imagine.

Different screwdrivers
Star, square, crissy-crossy, hexagon...pretty sure we could have settled on just one.

Long Weekends
If we would have just named 3-day weekends, 'weekends', imagine how long the REAL long weekends would be.

You ever forgotten somebody's birthday? It sucks.

Has your birthday ever fallen on a Monday, and when you tried to get your friend to come get drunk with you they declined, because they had to stay respectable for the Jerry Springer Show they were on the next morning? That sucks.

Have you ever circled June 23rd on your calendar because it was your friend's birthday? You suck.

Why don't we just have one giant unanimous birthday so that we can all celebrate together? And have the next day off to talk about how many of those drinks with little umbrellas in it we drank. It would be like all the other holidays we love, and nobody could get mad at you for forgetting about it. And you know what we could call it? Birth day.

The Learning Channel should not be a hard sell for things to undo.

Zombies were cool, but then everybody started talking about them to act cool and they sorta ruined it for the people who liked them from the beginning. And then tattoos that used to be cool were super lame because everybody was all of a sudden wearing Ed Hardy t-shirts. Wait, what?

Joseph Stalin

Born July 4, 1982, Stalin is publicly known by his nickname "The Situation" and is an American television personality and model who appeared on the MTV reality show Jersey Shore starting in 2009.

Bum Fights: Recession Edition
Technically, something has to be done before it can be undone. But in this case, I'm proposing something that wasn't ever done, to be done. When all the rich bankers on Wall Street were losing their jobs/wiping tears with $1 bills/selling their families for food money/jumping out of windows, a live camera crew should have busted into New York skyscrapers and proposed demeaning and degrading things for the formerly wealthy to do on camera for money. Like driving their soon-to-be-repossessed speed boats off the Niagra Falls, or eating caviar with SPAM.


Usually I respect young and stupid kid's opinions on everything, but then I heard this guy's music. And then, as if things couldn't have gotten any worse, I saw this guy's picture. And then I broke stuff. Lots and lots of stuff. 

It just made everything too easy. The other day I caught myself typing "Make me sandwich, slave".

This blog post
I know eh? I can't believe you read the whole thing either.


Friday, February 03, 2012

T is for...Tassimo

Dear Coffee.

Just wanna start off by saying that I've got lots of respect for you. You wake me up in the morning and you wake me up before I go to bed. I dig that kind of hustle.

I know we got off on the wrong foot, but in my defense, I had bad info. People talked smack about you from the get go, saying you would make me short and stuff. Swear to god! At first I believed them, just like I believed that 'look both ways before you cross the street' bullshit. I was like "I dunno, my mum drinks coffee all the time and she's tall as hell!" Then I started growing up and my mum wasn't so tall as hell anymore, and some of the kids in like 7th grade started drinking you. Granted they were usually the dirt bags who were the first to start smoking and doing that "other" thing (backwards hats) but whatever. I started seeing you around more and I liked it.

I didn't really start drinking you much til I started working full time like a big boy. I'd wake up in the morning with the taste of Keith Richards in my mouth and looking like a rye and coke, but you'd always have my back. You'd slap me across the face and be like "Bro! You need this bro! You gotta do this bro! Wake up bro!"

I really appreciated that, bro.

I quickly learned that too much of anything is a bad thing, and you were no exception. Three cups of you I and started thinking I was the dead guy from Weekend at Bernie's. You know, Bernie. That guy was always dancing! So much energy.

So anyway, when I started brewing you myself I had an automatic coffee maker and you'd be sitting their waiting for me when I rolled out of bed in the morning. Your hair would be like all down your face, and you'd be sitting there smiling at me. And then we'd have that moment. The moment where you'd make me dump.

But enough about our history.

I'm not trying to play no he-said-she-said games with you. And you know I have mad respect for you (remember? I said that in the second line of this letter). But we need to talk about this Tassimo dude, AND also his buddy Keurig. Dunno who invited these Swedish jerks to the party, but I've got some beef with them.

Little plastic cups full of coffee juice? 'the hell is that dude?! Since you were born people have been bitching about "Ohh freshly ground!" and "Ahh gotta be fresh!" and "Oooo that Nabob dude is cute!"
So what the hell is this new arrangement you've got going on?

Like I said, I'm not trying to front on your situation. If you like what this Tassimo dude is doing for you, then I guess I'll just let you do you. But just so you know, I'm sticking to my freshly ground, hot-ass-tea-kettle-givin'-me-the-whistle-whistle-here-and-a-whistle-whistle-there-wait-a-few-minutes-and-let-that-brew-steep-til-it's-good-and-ready setup. Straight FRENCH PRESS son! Better recognize.

All I'm saying is that when you're made au natural, you're way better. Don't let anybody tell you otherwise. We don't need to be making you out of some special new machines, and we sure as hell don't need to be making you from some silly little coffee juice plastic cups.

You deserve better. And everyone else deserves a better you.