Another Blonde Joke

Seven blondes walk into a bar. Every guy in the place watches as they flow towards the bar. The first guy approaches the group.

"Sup bitches, let's get this party started!"

The girls all scream and shout, and he buys a round as one girl smacks his ass. The next guy approaches the group.

"Hey ladies, I party like I fuck, alllll night!"

More screaming and retarded inuendo follows. The third guy walks up to the group.

Hey everyone, does anyone want to see if these chicks will scream and shit no matter what I say? Yeah!

The girls scream and laugh and bounce around as all three guys walk back to their real friends. The blondes continue screaming, laughing, and bouncing around in their lonely sorrow.

Set it and forget it!

Okay, before someone comes after me saying I am sexist - I am not. I have been carefully studying women's behavior in the breakroom kitchen for several weeks before posting this. I wanted to gather all of the information I could before breaking the news. Remember, you heard the report here first.

ATTENTION: Women where I work - I don't know what Mavis Beacon has taught you, but the microwave interface is not the place to show off your words-per-minute typing speed. You need to touch 6 buttons MAXIMUM before stepping away for a bit. Then the most important part - which clearly many of you have forgotten - is to stand back and wait. Yes, your Lean Cuisine Bacon Pizza and the tupperware full of last night's disappointment will *SHOCK* actually cook if you leave it in there. Far too many of you put the item in the microwave for under 30 seconds, only to open the microwave, stir said item for a second, then microwave again for 30 more seconds, and repeat. I called your respective doctors - you don't need a mammogram, you need to stop hanging those in front of the microwave while you watch the food dry out.

Here is a quick operating guide:
POWER LEVEL - this should always be set at 10. If you'd like to use a lower power level, I will allow you to rest your foodstuffs above the microwave while I am using it, harnessing the excess heat.
DEFROST - this option, while tempting, is terribly confusing. Also you probably shouldn't be bringing in food that you need to defrost. That would be like salting your meat before bringing it to work. We are not pilgrims. Your food should not be stored for the amount of time that requires a defrost or a slow thaw.
TIME COOK - safe bet. Depress this button, followed by a time in minutes & seconds, then the START button, and you should be in the clear. Stand back, listen for beep.

Moving forward with your behavior modification, it is absolutely crucial that you don't over-correct just to spite me. That is, please do not adopt the habit of leaving your food in the microwave without EVER checking on it. We already have the d-bag that gives his oatmeal a quick heat in the morning and returns to pick it up from the 'wave on his way out at night.

Once you make this crucial step forward in our office relationship, maybe then I will send you that file you have been asking for. Maybe.

FUN MICROWAVE FACT: In the year 2007, most microwaves will actually rotate the food for you - rendering your "churn and turn" intervention obsolete.

A Dirty Blonde Joke

A blonde, two brunettes and three redheads walk into a grocery store. They mosey around until they have filled their carts, then head to the cashier. At the checkout, the brunettes pay in cash, with "exact change." The redheads pay with a credit card, saying "just charge it."

The blonde girl forgot her purse in the car, so as payment she sucks the manager's dick and gives a handjob to the cashier while fucking herself with a banana in front of everyone. When she was done the crowd was clapping and cheering. A man in line leans over to the naked beauty and asks "excuse me miss, I was wondering if you could you spare some change?"

Casio CTK-601

So my neighbor's ex-girlfriend left behind this magnificent piece of machinery called the Casio CTK-601 when she so lovingly departed from his life. As a nice twist of luck, I popped up at his door not a week later asking to borrow a lighter. By the way do you smoke?

Rob and I are good friends now, and one afternoon I noticed this keyboard in the corner gathering dust faster than Madonna's puss. "What's the deal with that thing?" I asked. "Eh, my chick left that here when she left, fucking bitch." Rob has tons of great stories, but we'll get into that in a later post, at a later date, and in much greater length, and in much greater depth, and in much more mystery, and at a later date, and in greater depth.

Within days of fiddling with it I was layering my own original tracks into the keyboard's built in storage, jamming the fuck out. For the longest time I had no way of recording the songs before deleting them and moving on I literally made dozens that are just floating in the vibes, bro. This is the first freestyle layering track video I've made, there's others you can find on my Youtube page, but this one is diggity dope, so enjoy it you fucking hippy.

Parker

Crazy? Douchebag? Or One Crazy Douchebag?

I recently finished up a round at a big industry conference where I balled out as an executive in charge of balling out. And as I sat by the pool one evening, watching a beautiful sunset over a nice glass of scotch, inwardly remarking about how great I really am, I realized that the person with whom I was drinking, had a blinking ear. Now of course, I had to stare. Is this some kind of bionic woman? Has she been sent here from the future to stop me from taking over the world? Because she's going to have a hell of a fight on her hands, let me tell you! But then I realized, now, she's not trying to kill me with laser beams from the eyes...she was wearing a bluetooth headset.

HA! "I'm no douchebag," I tell myself, "I'm way too cool to have one of those." But it made me think a little bit. When we see these devices strapped to one's ear, we often think, "Hey, that person is talking to themselves! They're crazy! Throw something at them quickly!" I mean, they're engaging in an action that would most commonly classify them as "a homeless crazy." But with the advent of these devices, we can't tell if they're crazy, or just a douchebag. And that really is crazy! How will we know who to throw things at and who to buy stocks from? It's madness!!!

But as I sipped my scotch, I put the topic of how great I was on the back burner for a second and reflected in (though not for too long, because lord knows what I'd find). Perhaps you don't just have to be crazy or a douchebag, but can be, in fact ONE CRAZY DOUCHEBAG! I felt enlightened! I mean, you can't just talk into thin air and not be crazy, and you can't wear one of these things and not be a douchebag. Therefore, you must own up to your new title. You are one crazy douchebag, and I salute you in your bold endeavors. Perhaps those of us who aren't douchebags and who are way too cool to have bluetooth headsets will one day follow in your bold footsteps. Good luck, you crazy douchebag, may someone one day, throw something nice your way.

The Circle of Life

A couple of girls I know have gone off to South Africa to study and work over the next couple of years. I have no idea why they would go, since they are more likely to get AIDS from a horny tribesman named Jumaji this Friday when they have one too many lemon drops at the local watering hole than gain scholastic accreditation from their endeavors. I mean shit, they are just sorority girls, and we all know what really matters to most of them.
If I moved to Africa I would be a poacher. I would be the guy that built a huge house in the middle of a tribal community and had baby elephant sandwiches for lunch. Come on in my African friends! Watch some DirecTv, smoke a joint, fuck a howler monkey if you so please, just don't stain the bear skin rug.
I would go out on exciting trips where my new friends and I would use sniper rifles to poach endangered species, local women, and of course, lions. Lions are the "king" of the jungle supposedly. I beg to differ. I incur that my semi-automatic M-16 is the reigning champ of this here plot 'o land, bitches. The only point of respect I have for lions other than the roar at the beginning of MGM films is that they have their bitches do the hunting for them. What a dope set up.
Even in the greatest country in the world husbands find themselves in the supermarket, baffled as to how they got there. Lions say fuck that, baby you bring me back an antelope entree with a side of hyena or I'll bite your fucking legs off. Respect. Just not enough not to pop a cap in his ass. Sorry Simba, the space next to the bigscreen is calling your name...Gosh I can't wait to go to Africa.

Real Life AIM

AOL Instant Messenger has become a cultural identifier of Generation X. If someone asks for your "sn", you know it means screen name. Every 7th grader was so excited to get home from school and talk on AIM with their pre-pubescent friends. I was starting to think, what if real life had the same AIM functions we've grown to love. For instance, I'm talking to someone I don't like and decided to block them. Then, they couldn't see me and I'd never have to worry about their annoying questions. If I was bored in class, put up a real life away message that prevents the teacher from calling on me. A real life buddy list would only allow certain people to talk to me and if they wanted to start a conversation, I could immediately accept or deny their request.

Triple Timin'

The human body is a creation of millions of years of evolution. As such it is a spectacular machine capable of creating fire, tying knots and a variety of truly unique operations. Today we will reflect on the myth of the triple timing. It all started years back when someone stated this fact to me: "If you piss fart and burp at the same time you will pass out." Well I could not let this statement sit at that so I spent years trying to create that perfect moment of the triple time. When the moment finally came the only thing that happened to me was an overwhelming feeling of relief that I had never felt before. Since that day I have found that combinations such as the 'fart burp piss' create feelings that most of human kind never gets to enjoy.
After some research and testing, on myself, I have come up with this short list of my favorite combos. They are as follows:

-Pee Poo Burp - Classic and simple

-Piss Walk Fart - Fun and different (Variation Add a Fourth by burping, singing or yelling)

-Burp Sneeze Fart - Often followed by a little upchuck in your throat

-Poo Fart Burp - Fun morning adventure

-Puke Poo Pee - Not that fun but there are few people who have enjoyed waking up with pee in their bed, stains in their pants and puke on their face (Do not know if this ever happened to me but I doubt anyone would remember)

So get out there and challenge yourself. The combinations are endless and the resulting feelings can be as complex as your mother walking in on you climaxing on your favorite porno mag or relieving as some Mary j on a mid summer night.

An Unspoken Rule

When it was brewing up, you knew it was serious. You ate enough fiber to keep the consistency perfect. You go into a public bathroom and drop it. You stand up, admire what you've produced and don't flush. Why? Because that is the unspoken rule of dropping record breaking turds. You leave that shit. Pun intended. Wipe in the stall next to you if you need to. You don't want anyone to miss the full awesomeness of what you've accomplished. Be proud. Don't flush championship logs.

How to Effectively Not Work While Working - Part II

So I know I continually post about how I don't do anything at my work/study job at school. Well, last week something changed. I was minding my business at work, working hard watching YouTube videos, when my boss starts vacuuming the room. Pissed that he would dare interrupt what I was doing, I turned up the volume on my headphones and continued to watch YouTube. So he vacuums the upper half of the room, sees that I'm not doing anything and asks ME to vacuum the back of the room. This is a pretty small room, so I was shocked by his audacity. I thought we had a mutual understanding that you pay me to sit here and do nothing.

"Will you vaccum the back of the room Matt? It looks like it's pretty dirty"
I slowly take off my headphones and acknowledge his response.
"Yeah."

So I go to the back of the room, turn on the vacuum for 15 seconds and turn it off. The moral of the story kids is that if you do a shitty job, people probably won't ask you to do it again. Needless to say, but he's never asked me to do anything again.

Personal Time with the Philadelphia Sidewalks

So I got hammered last night. I also realized that I don't have the stamina I once had, which is unfortunate because I'm only 22. I think your body is prime for intoxicating yourself when you're still growing or something. Whatever. I'm not going to be the cliche white person who counts every drink he had and reads it to you like an itemized list...so lets just say after a number of drinks (a really fuckin high number...had to say it)...I took the catalyst shot. The shot that stirs up everything bad in your body and gives you that sour taste in your mouth. I was about to throw up. Never one to be rude, I politely excused myself from the bar and walked outside onto the streets of Philadelphia. There was a middleaged man on his cell phone right outside the door. I nodded to him, turned to my right, and let loose a good 12 drinks onto the pavement. This was followed by a couple afterburner barrages of fluid for good measure. Then, as my vision began to restore itself, I noticed there was some vomit on a big set of boots. My lack of eyesight and judgment at the time led me to ignore that a homeless person was sleeping against the wall of the building where I was vomitting. And now I had vomitted on their pair of boots. They didn't wake up, thankfully. But how much of an asshole am I? Oh that's great, you're homeless...let me throw up on your only pair of shoes to make tomorrow even better when you wake up? I think I might go back and buy this guy some shoes, or maybe a tarp in case something like this happens again. Oh yeah, I also went back into the bar after my 1 on 1 with the sidewalk and pretended like nothing happened. However, a full framed window shot of my vomitting session was more than entertaining for my comrades. Sweet.