Friday, September 17, 2010

Why I Can Never Go Anywhere.

Tell me someone else has this experience every time they visit a store:

You’ve finally managed to locate everything you stopped by the store to buy. You’ve spent the last thirty minutes elbowing your way through the hordes of people that insist on stopping right in the middle of the aisle you’re walking through. You’ve dodged all of the children who are running rampant through the store because heaven forbid their good-for-nothing parent discipline them. You’ve stepped over the puddle of urine where some child let loose on the floor because a stock boy called her stupid.

You finally get into line to check-out, but even now the battle is only half over, because the next half hour of your time is going to be spent being asses-to-elbows with the rudest, most inept people on Earth. The most inept ones, you soon realize, are all in front of you. The basic economic concept of being able to exchange money for goods and services seems to escape these people. You wonder if any of them just woke up after being in a coma for 20 years and this is their first time ever in a store. Person after bumbling person steps into line and either forgets something they needed until the cashier has already totaled everything; or is aghast at the price of some item they clearly misconstrued as being on sale.

Everything has finally been rung up for this idiot, and now it’s time to pay. They unfailingly either need to write a check, or try to pay with a credit or debit card that you know is getting rejected. Evidently, you have stumbled into a dimension where cash no longer exists.

What makes this wait in line even more painful are the people behind you becoming increasingly impatient, and not afraid to vent these frustrations verbally to the imaginary people in line who care how they feel.

By the time it is finally your turn in line; the three or four people behind you are ready to lose their minds. On account of you not being completely retarded, you quickly send your items through the scanner, and even bag them yourself in the interest of getting the hell out of Dodge as quickly as possible.

And then it happens.

The cashier (who clearly is no descendant of Einstein either) does something to exacerbate your pain. He either drops and breaks something you want to buy, or scans an item twice, or gets the deer-in-headlights look on his face because you brought him something like a banana that doesn’t have a bar-code to scan.

Now we wait for another five to ten minutes for the manager to come and fix boy-genius’ mistake.

With everything now sorted out, you’re in the home stretch. You pay cash for your goods, and quietly thank God that the register tells this chimp how much change to give you. In one fluid motion, the cashier tears off your receipt, crumbles it together with the bills, and stuffs the coins inside this mess as if they are the creamy middle of a Cadbury egg. He then shoves this hot mess into your hand so clumsily that your creamy middle falls on the floor.

From here, you can feel the heat from the rage of the people behind you, and you have a panic attack trying to pick your change up off the ground and stumble out of the way before the person behind you commits a felony with your balls.

You climb into your car and make your way home, swearing the whole way that you’ll never go back to that store again as long as you live, but you know damn well that you’ll be back the very next time you need something.

You repeat this process time and time again, week after week, month after month, year after year, until finally you’re alone in your bathroom one night and a blood vessel explodes in your brain, killing you instantly.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

A Headline That Should Have Been, but Never Was

My beloved Giants whipped the crappy Jets in the first game to be played in the New Meadowlands on Monday. The rivalry between the Jets and the Giants goes way back, and both teams have very little love for the other. As a result, when they play each other every year in the preseason, things usually get a little rough. This year Eli Manning took a bad couple of shots that ended with his helmet getting knocked off; and his face covered in blood from a three-inch gash on his head. My firends and I tried to come up with a funny caption to the picture of poor Eli bleeding like a stuck pig in order to lighten the mood; and here's what we came up with, enjoy!

"Manning Forgets That Football Games Have Quarters, Not Periods."

Saturday, August 14, 2010

The Most Awkward 94 Minutes of My Life:

So my sister wanted to go to an Adam Lambert concert at a local music festival tonight; and needed a chaperon to take her. I agreed to take her, as any big brother would. So freeing up my Friday and making plans to take her, I find out that her two friends were coming with us. Now, while spending my Friday night with a group of teenage girls doesn't appeal to me the same way it did 15 years ago, I love my sister to death and would do almost anything for her. (We'll get to why I say "almost anything" in just a minute) OK so, I wanted to know what I was in for, so I decided to look up this Adam Lambert guy on online. I pulled up a picture of him and, almost instantly, one of my testicles fell off. I tried to grab it quick in hopes of reattaching it later, but it rolled under the bed out of reach (I figured: "screw it, if Lance Armstrong can get by with one nut, then so can I"). For those of you who haven't had the pleasure, here's what I found:

As I'm a glutton for punishment (and donuts) I decided to download a song of his to see what he sounded like. After the first few bars of this "song", my other testicle exploded. Things were looking pretty bleak, but I figured that with both of my balls already gone, how much worse could things get? Apparently, much worse. 

At the show, this Adam Lambert comes out on stage, dressed in what I can only describe as full-on S&M gear. Seriously, this is the kind of stuff that should be relegated to only the darkest of porno. Everybody in the audience goes nuts for him in approval. He proceeds to produce a noise that I'm sure is an ancient black magic spell for raising the dead. The people rejoice again. Then, the worst part happens. He begins a dance that can best be described as a female stripper routine, but without the pole and the removal of clothing (not that his gimp-gear left much to the imagination to begin with). Not only did nobody at the show seem to have a problem with this, but most people in attendance started to mimic this "dance", my sister and her friends included. Every male instinct I had was screaming to just bail and get the hell out of Dodge, but alas, those instincts were over-ruled by my responsibility to make sure my sister and her friends were safe; so I stayed put and did my best to not vomit. Not only did I have to stand and watch this group abortion, but I was actually encouraged by those around me (again, my sister and her friends included) to join in this new dance craze. Here's where the "almost everything" kicks in. There is not enough brotherly love on planet-freaking-Earth to get me to do that, even if my body was capable of those motions (which, short of having a seizure, I don't think it is). What ensued was the title of this post, the most awkward 94 minutes I have ever had. Damn you, Adam Lambert, damn you...

Friday, August 13, 2010

Let's Play A Game

It's called "Find the poorly-worded headline!"

(round one should be easy!)

(I'll give you a hint.... it's the 4th one.)

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Grammatical Faux Pas of the Week:

At what point as a country did we lose our mastery of the English language? On a daily basis I encounter people who legitimately do not know the proper use of “your” vs. “you’re”. What gives?

A particularly awful example stopped me dead in my tracks just a few minutes ago. Someone had posted their distain for University of Alabama coach Nick Saban in the comments section of a website I visit. Idiocy ensued:

If you didn’t catch it, the following steps may help:
1) take out a magnifying glass
2) turn it so the handle is facing you
3) stick it in your eye as hard as you can

(the throbbing pain means it’s working!)

A win for the G.O.P. in 2012!!

Many of my fellow Republicans are going to be backing different candidates in the 2012 presidential election. Some say we should go with Gingrich, Romney, or Palin, among others in order to take back control of the country. I however, think that there is only one person who can restore this great Nation to its former glory:

Let’s take a look at his positions on some tough issues, shall we?

1) Illegal immigration- eat them
2) Economy- eat ½ of the population; then there’s fewer hands in the pot
3) Social Security- See numbers one and two
4) War on terrorism- turn everyone in America into zombies. Problem solved. you can’t terrorize the undead, Osama!

I’d like to see B.O. compete with that!

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

Batman needs to man up!

I think that Batman is perhaps one of the most whiny "super"heroes ever. His parents died.... boo-hoo. I'm not saying that such an incident isn't traumatic, but it happened when he was a ten-year-old. I think that maybe it's time to get over it already. I'm sure there are plenty of ten-year-olds that have seen their parents shot that are way over it by the time they're 40; but not this wiener over here. I mean, its not like he had nobody to raise him. His butler Alfred seems like a pretty cool guy, not to mention the BILLIONS of dollars at his fingertips. Maybe he should have invested some of that cash in therapy, instead of lame-ass karate lessons and that dumb looking costume (which, by the way, is made of spandex....SPANDEX! I know if I was going  after crooks that are armed to the teeth with nothing but jujitsu to defend myself with because I have this pussy aversion to taking a life, I'd sure as shit make my costume bullet-proof....dumb-ass.....but, I digress...) Batman doesn't even have super powers. For what it's worth, you or I could be Batman, as long as we had the money he has and all the time in the world to dick around with. Even his enemies are lame: a clown, a fat short guy with a big nose and a guy who melts......I'm terrified. Man up, Batman, get over mommy and daddy and donate some of that cash to the cops, you know, the ones who actually have the legal authority to go around beating on crooks? Yeah, those guys.
(nice bitch-slap there, champ. Superman would have melted that fanboy's head with his laser-eyes)

Jason has a stupid face, and here's why: