Weird Comedy

Hey Blog!

2008-11-11T19:56:00.001-08:00

Welcome back to life, Blog! You're like the engine that sort of could. You're like James Bond on his day off, keepin' it so lite. You can kill mean people later. Well I'm glad you're back, and I'm sure everyone else is as well. We missed you. Let's head to the pool for some cocktails, yeah?
I heard you were dabbling into web video productions, is that true? Very cool, you know that's an emerging market even though the economy is as bad as it is. Of course you knew that. Sure, I'll have another bloody, buddy. That blond by the pool is giving you the stink eye by the way. Yes I did imply that.
Well I'm really happy you're still going strong, weird comedy. You always were a fun time. We're going to hang out more, now that I don't have a full time gig. Yes, I lost my job, no I'll be all right. We get to chill more now, isn't that positive? See? Yes, tequila sounds like a fantastic transition to margaritas. Shitballs I missed you.

What's That?

2008-05-09T10:15:00.000-07:00

I got this joke from an email sent to me by Comedy Central. Usually they're pretty bad, but this one is short and well, gross. I picture this as being a conversation between a young child and his mother on a Sunday afternoon a couple of hours after they returned from church.

"Mom, what is that wrinkley thing on Grandma?"

"That's Grandpa."

2008-04-17T12:19:00.000-07:00

Dear Girl Whose Jacket I Put On In a Drunken Haze Last Saturday,
How are you? I hope all is well. I'm back on the East Coast keeping it lite with my friends here. Anyway, thanks for letting me borrow your jacket. You should really keep an eye on it from now on, especially if you see wasted people chowing down on con queso at 4 in the morning. Toodles!

Big Black

2008-02-28T22:32:00.000-08:00

Three Blondes

2008-02-21T20:09:00.001-08:00

Three blondes walk into a smoke shop more stoned than Roman adulterers. They point out the biggest bong in the whole place and giggle together as it is rung up by the young male attendant. "That'll be six-hundred and forty-two dollars. Will you be paying by cash or credit? Hey where do you think you're going?"
Two of the three silently slip behind the counter then pull down the kid's pants and start sucking on his dick while the third leans over to kiss his lips with her voluptious lips and smokey breath.
Completely taken aback, the kid wakes up from his extravagant dream about being a smoke shop attendant and finds he can't get back to sleep. "Shit, shit, shit."

Lima's Duvet

2008-02-21T00:55:00.000-08:00

Life is funny. That is why Jerry Seinfeld is a household name and why men can't get boners past middle age. I'm not a very religious person (unless you consider keepin' it lite a form of my own "conversation" with the Almighty), but I'm pretty darn sure that whoever is upstairs has a serious sense of humor. I bet homeboy is reading this as I type it and if so you know he's stoked. In four short months I've gone from having a serious knee injury and being unemployed to nailing my dream job down and making serious moves towards possibly stopping drinking during the weekday afternoons.
Why is that when your chips are down the grass on the other side always smells so much better than your shitty ass weed? Why is that every time you think you've got a hold on life it slides through your fingers like a wet flappy labia? Perhaps it's a big old joke that has been going on for centuries. I'de be amped if when everyone is kicking back in heaven, a.k.a. Rosco's Chicken and Waffles, a.k.a. Adrianna Lima's personal duvet, that we'd all be following the comedically predicable humans in their rollorcoasters of struggle back down on Earth instead of "Friends" or for God's sake, "Full House."

"Hey Moses, did you catch last week's episode of "Parker" when he stabbed his friend and then fended off a bum that attacked him with a shopping cart all in one drunken evening? It was classic."
"Shit I fuckin' missed that, I was in Lima's Duvet just kickin' back with the big guy."

I can't wait to chill with Moses, holy shit.

Exotic Birds

2008-02-18T00:40:00.000-08:00

Girls are the type of animal that believe they are highly evolved social beings yet judge every individual they meet based solely on his or her choice of shoes. Like an exotic bird that chooses the prettiest mate insead of the one who's feathers are ruffled from avenging his brother's death. "Well you're ok because your shoes match your outfit. That guy over there, however, needs a reality check." Yea right, as if my kicks weren't fresh this bitch wasn't gona slob the knob and Jerrod needs a reality... well ok, she's got me there. Basically, if your game is so whack that the girl at the bar says something along the lines of "no thanks, your shoes are whack sucka," be glad you got out of that relationship early. You're better of with more time to yourself so you can stay at home and work on your game in front of the mirror while listening to Garth Brooks in the nude, fag. Better luck next time, try matching your kicks with your shirt, dumbass.

Pop Or Ot See

2008-02-13T03:05:00.000-08:00

As a freelance artist I meet a ton of really eccentric people. The latest of which have been a bunch of paparazzi and low level celebrities. The combination of these people and my relationship with the whole thing is, as some trannies would say, "fantastic."

First imagine being the guy that follows around star celebs all day with a telephoto lens and high res camera. Nobody wants to be that guy. In the minds of everyone but 14 year old blonde girls with braces, you suck. Now imagine being the whacked out celebrity getting harassed by voyeurs in the bushes watching you brush your teeth as they overlook their copy of your daily itinerary. You're fucked, Britney.

Both are pretty lame situations, but luckily I have found the best end of the deal. The only perk about paparazzi is the kind of first hand footage that makes it onto the news, and I get to see it before it even airs, bOIII! Instead of coffee being dropped off at my desk for my arrival at the office, it's first hand footage of Eva Longoria getting out of rehab, or Ms. Spears showing the world what a crazy person does with her evenings. Well, to the editing!

Hell Date

2008-01-30T15:07:00.000-08:00

So I've never been on a blind date before, until yesterday. Winging for a friend of mine who just met a girl and insisted on making it a double date, we met two girls for drinks. Obviously, I didn't pay for any of her shit. I took one look at my "date," who was not hot, and really wanted to abort the mission early on. So not to be a complete dick, I figured I'd engage in some light conversation with her. I was going to be spending at least another hour with them until I formulated my escape plan, and friendly conversation is always pleasant. Unless the girl you are talking to has a horrible Jersey accent and the intelligence of a farm animal. Here is what our conversation consisted of: (I am C, she is B...for Bitch)

C: So what do you do Melissa?
B: It's Alyssa
C: Close enough.

(awkward silence)

C: Seriously though, what do you do?
B: I'm a yaegermeister girl.
C: So you wear slutty clothing and hand out shots?
B: No, we're classy, we wear pants.
C: I didn't know pants were classy. (Internal monlogue - Are you sure they don't just make you wear pants b/c your legs look terrible)
B: (laughs)
C: Do you do anything else? That can't be your only job.
B: I work for an export company.
C: What do you export, bodies?
B: Hardwood flooring.
C: Wow. That's great. I bet there is a huge market for that.
B: There is actually.
C: Great.

And that's when I aborted. I actually ended up meeting a real cute girl while my "date" watched me. I win.

Cholo Cut You

2008-01-27T23:19:00.001-08:00

For no reason at all, my friend knocked over a bum's shopping cart last night. Which was empty, but woke his ass up like a job interview. He charges us, screaming obscenities as the cart picks up speed. Motherfuckers! Bahh! My friend wasn't even paying attention at this point, I should have let the bum cut block him with some help from Ralph's, but I intercepted the play instead, hoping the psycho wasn't packing a knife. It went well in the end for us, and the next day I shot this little ditty of me explaining to my friend how I also sort of stabbed him earlier in the evening.

Inconsiderate Parkers

2008-01-25T16:36:00.001-08:00

You know what really burns my ass? Inconsiderate parkers. I'm not talking about one of our esteemed blog contributors (although, seriously dude, you need to start showering), I'm talking about assholes who think they own the street and can park wherever they want, taking up as many spaces as their ugly fucking car will permit.

Many of you want to know what I'm talking about. Well, when a person parks their car in a parallel spot where there are only so many spots available, it's very nice and very courteous for that person to pull up as close to the front of the space as possible. That way, people can park behind them and so on and so on. Inconsiderate parkers are big, fat jerk-offs who just pull their white Cadillacs up into the middle of the curb, taking up two spaces, so that nobody else can park. They're inconsiderate fuck faces.

Now you're saying to yourselves, "Hey Mike, have you gone off the deep end? Who cares about parking?" Rebuttal? Hey fuck you asshole. Maybe if you also lived in a major metropolitan city instead of some shit-hole in backwoods Pennsylvania (that's right, I said it), you'd know what I'm talking about. Let me bring this down to your level: Imagine you were on your way home to bang that ugly specimen that you call a woman waiting for you at your shack. You get to your street, and it's full. There's nowhere to park. Then you see a spot. You pull into it, finish your PBR and your third Big Mac, and get ready to go inside to see if your "woman" has decided to shower this week. You get out of the car and realize you're blocking a driveway. Why? How can this be? After all, you're in a spot! Then you see that the car in front of you could have pulled up an extra 5 feet, but decided instead to just park wherever he damn-well pleased, so that you couldn't park! Now you have to park 3 miles away because some demonic cock-sucker decided he was in too much of a rush (probably to go bang your girlfriend) to pull up a few feet!

These people are assholes. HUGE assholes. This shit needs to stop. If you don't start parking like a normal human being, and having a little more consideration for someone other than yourself, I'm going to go ape-shit. And I think we can all agree that that's not good for anyone.

The Exorcism of Britney Spears

2008-01-19T17:35:00.000-08:00

Last week we filmed in Valencia, and I just finished editing this video for National Lampoon, check it out!

Bum-tastic

2008-01-13T13:06:00.000-08:00

The one thing that I will always adore is the bum trying hard not to try hard. Boy oh boy I wish I was as enthusiastic about not doing anything as bums are. They really have it down. Imagine the average thing that you put off or procrastinate around. Perhaps it is signing some paperwork, doing your homework, or feeding the dog. These guys literally took it to the next level by putting off having to have things to put off. Spectacular.

I'm extremely jealous of how lite bums keep it. Maybe one week this month I will keep it as lite as a bum. I won't shower, shave, or work on anything harder than sitting down. The hardest thing I might have to do is shake a cup with change in it, hoping for more change to be dropped in by passerby, and that'll be PUSHING it.

I'm not going to be the kind of bum that collects cans, or has a sideshow act like playing the trumpet or drums. I'm going to be the kind of bum that is so haggard and lazy that he just lays across the sidewalk, sleeping directly in the path of hard working individuals on their way to work hard somewhere. Maybe my extreme bum-ness will influence other people to also become bums as I have, but I'm not going to try hard at that. Holy bum this is going to be awesome.

No Harm Done with Norris for President

2008-01-04T11:18:00.000-08:00

I watched the Iowa caucuses last night. And after a good hour of sobbing on the floor, I picked myself up having seen the light. No, I haven't found God, Mike Huckabee, and I won't be voting for you. I realized that this country doesn't want change, Barack Obama. Look at who we've elected for the last eight years. It's not an articulate diplomat, or a wealthy suburbanite, Hillary Clinton. For the last eight years, our country has been lead by a shit-kicking Texas Rancher who so eloquently chokes on pretzels watching football. And we elected this man of the people, only after his father threw up on the Prime Minister of Japan. So clearly, the citizens of this country don't want Barack, Hillary, or John. What this country wants is a president who can kick ass while wearing a jean vest, holding two semi-automatic weapons and standing in front of a massive American Flag at all times.

Oh, hello Chuck Norris. Didn't see you there. Oh wait, yes I did. You were standing behind Mike Huckabee as his number one supporter! It wasn't Madeline Albright, or a host of Union leaders, no. It was Walker, Texas Ranger. This is the exact moment that I had the revelation. People aren't voting for you, Mike Huckabee, they're voting for Chuck Norris. Because the majority of the public says "Hey, if Chuck Norris likes Mike Huckabee, and I like Chuck Norris, I must like Mike Huckabee!" Now I realize I'm probably giving the logic skills of the American public too much credit. To bring the scenario more into reality, let's say that the person who said that was lying in a La-Z-Boy in his tightie whities, drinking a PBR, burping. And as soon as he deduces his love for Mike Huckabee, he farts, while eating a TV dinner. There. That's better.

But I have to say, I'm in favor of Norris for President. In fact, I propose that Chuck Norris make me his Chief of Staff. Allow me to lay out the Norris agenda for the first hundred days:

1. Kill anyone who ever voted for a democrat or non-republican, thereby destroying the need for partisan politics.
2. Now that everyone who would oppose is dead, get rid of all public programs except for those that help the very rich. In fact, let's just kill all the poor people (if they weren't already killed by item 1).
3. Parachute into Iraq with a big American Flag cape. Shoot a barrage of bullets into the crowd until all enemies are eradicated.
4. Repeat number 3 in Afghanistan, Venezuela, Cuba, and North Korea.
5. Declare science to be "passe," and make the bible the only book available for sale.

Once all this is accomplished, we can live in this Norris Utopia. So forget Barack and Hillary, Mitt and John...elect Chuck Norris! Because this country is all about choice...and why shouldn't we elect an action hero actor with no real experience in politics to lead our country? What do you think Arnold?

Last Night

2007-12-10T16:45:00.000-08:00

Living in Hollywood I run into various producers and the likes on occasion, at the bar or the hospital, depending on how the night went. This past weekend I was at my local watering hole "Birds," which by the way, should be called "Unappreciative Beasts," because of course it would be much more accurate in it's description of the clientele. Anyway, I'm putting alcoholic beverages down the good 'ol gullet when a producer sitting next to me decides to kick out my stool and punch me in the face on my way down to the disease ridden floor. I arose infuriated, covered in Mike's hard lemonade, and looking to avenge myself. Before I threw my first punch I noticed he was already bandaged up and so I held back, confused and sticky from the nectar soaking through my undergarments. He said,

"I'm sorry young man, but I needed a laugh after what I saw in the office today."

"Give me one reason not to send you right back the fucking hospital asshole!" I screamed into the air surrounding our awkward silence.

"I'll do you one better, I'll buy you another faggy drink and tell you the most fucked up story you've ever heard."

I was taken aback, so as he bought me a fuzzy navel I asked what he had seen that sent him into such a desperate state that he needed to pick on smaller, less accomplished people.

"Well," he began, "this guy came in with his family today. His wife and two children came along for a television pilot pitch session. At first everything was really calm and normal, and the father was first to speak. He said,

"We're going to have this show, a real class act, here I'll show you!" And as he says this he takes off his jeans, whips out his gigantic flacid cock and smacks his daughter in the face with it. After recovering from the smack, she starts blowing her father, then as she's doing that she hikes her skirt up so that her mom can get at her pussy from behind. Her mom pulls out a cucumber and starts shoving it into her her adolecent daughters cunt."

"Holy shit! That really happened in your office?!"

"Yes, and let me finish the story, fag."

"Sorry."

"So anyway, the Dad is getting blown by his daughter who is cucumber fucking her Mom, right. At this point I'm freaking out, but the son comes over to my desk and says not to worry, the best part has "yet to come." After saying that, he picks up my letter opening knife and stabs it into his own throat, opening a huge hole in his neck, spraying blood everywhere. The son calmly walks over to the father, who takes his cock out of his daughters mouth and shoves it into his son's gaping wound and starts fucking it like he has to repopulate New Guinea. Then, while all of this is happening, the mother pulls out the cucumber, throws it at my wall, smashing a vase, which sprayed shards of glass all over me, then the mother and daughter start pissing and shitting on each other, scissor fucking each other with the shit in the middle, next to the two men, who are throwing the excess feces all over my office! Then, just when shit literally hit the fan, the Dad starts coming, and the son is coughing up his father's jizz and throwing up all over himself. After he's done, the father pulls his dick out of his dying son and looks me right in the eyes, and says, "what do you think?"

"I was so taken aback all I could say was, uhh... what do you call it?"

"Well," he said, "It's edgy with a touch of class, I call it "The Aristocrats!"

"And what did you say? That's fucking crazy right? You called security right?!"

"No, pussy, I said that it was brilliant. I said "Let's get this cleaned up and start filming right away."

"Are you serious? Who would put that on the air?"

"Fox News."

-Parker

The Christmas Spirit of Panhandling

2007-12-09T19:09:00.001-08:00

Twas three weeks before Christmas and all through my town,
Mother fuckers were shopping and fucking around,
I go get a sandwich, a quick hangover meal,
Bacon egg and cheese, 2 bucks, quite a deal.
I exit the building and what do I see,
But 6 girl scouts trying to panhandle me.
I round a quick corner and cross the street fast,
If they wanted my money, they can kiss my black ass.
I thought I was free, I thought I was golden,
But then to my shock, 10 carolers rolled in.
I dodged their donations and kicked one in the shin,
Having evaded these bitches, I was sporting a grin.
"Do you hate christmas?", the cunt said to me,
I told her "I hate cunts, who want my money."
30 feet to go, my apartment in sight,
There was coal awaiting in my stocking that night.
But what to my wandering eyes did appear,
But a salvation army santa, smelling like beer.
He extended his hand, and I gave it a slap.
He showed me his bucket, I knew it was a trap.
I ran to my room and shut the door quick.
Stop asking me for money, you people make me sick.

Scrooge-

No Effort No Money: A Legal Memorandum

2007-12-04T09:31:00.000-08:00

Memorandum

TO: Men
FROM: Cap
DATE: December 4, 2007
RE: Dealing with Women like a Man

This memo will present an argument supporting the single man's mantra of "No effort. No money." In short, this philosophy on dealing with the opposite sex provides for the most optimal method of finding and obtaining women during your single years. The two clauses of this mantra will be explained in two separate sections. This memo assumes that the man has basic "game". Basic game meaning that you aren't a D-bag. D-bag meaning you aren't one. This memo will not address prostitution [...] today.

A. No Effort

No purposeful effort to "pick up" a female should be exercised under ANY circumstances. (emphasis added).

One might ask, why can't I attain women by purposefully seeking out their attention? The answer to this question is simple and can be summed up as: You're fucking better than that. Finding a woman should result from you having a good time in your optimal setting. In no situation should you compromise your good time for the sake of a woman's. For example, in Cap v. Long Island Slut, Plaintiff was requested by Defendant Slut to hang out with all of Slut's annoying long island friends in a remote location. Plaintiff impolitely declined to this request because it would force him to miss the open bar that he had been anxiously awaiting all week. By executing no effort, the court held that Plaintiff made the correct choice and later that night the court rewarded him with two hot asians.

B. No Money

Money shall never be spent on any non-familial girl in the form of a gift, loan, or other monetary gesture.

There is no reason to spend money when you are in the pursuit of a woman. By spending money on a woman, you have less money to spend on yourself. This is not acceptable, because you are always number one. See How to be the fuckin man by God. Always keep yourself in mind when monetary issues come up with women. A common situation is when you are in a financial and social position to buy a girl a drink. In Cap v. Stupid Bitch (SB), Cap told SB "I'm going to get a drink." SB replied "Me too." Cap replied "Great. While you're up there, you can buy me a drink." SB abided. The court ruled that by putting Cap's finances ahead of any women's and spending no money, he was awarded 2 free drinks and fellatio.

C. Conclusion

"No effort. No money." is a mantra that should be followed by all males who want to live life like a real man. The social, financial, and sexual benefits behind this doctrine are well-hidden behind societal norms. However, when applied consistently and accurately, you could quite possibly become [...] the man.

Away Messages, Go Away

2007-12-03T10:01:00.000-08:00

I'm sorry...I know I'm the only person that thinks that instant messages were created by Lucifer himself. All this ridiculous subculture of language and other bullshit makes me want to puke my fucking guts up. "LOL" And those annoying fucking people who have nothing to say but have to validate themselves by trying to carry on a conversation with you? "Hey pal...what's up...you there...please talk to me." Go read a book, jerk-off!

But more infuriating than the messages themselves, are away messages. I mean, it's very polite and kind of you to put up a message that says "away" or "lunch" or "fuck off," so that at least people know why you're not responding to their message at that very instant, so they don't have to go slash their unloved wrists (yet). But I absolutely swear...at no time, in no place, is it necessary to do ANY of the following things.

1. Do not put your schedule up for me to read: "Breakfast, Reading, Snack, Writing, Lunch, Class, Second Lunch, More Class, Taking a Dump, Dinner, Crying silently in the bathroom, Midnight Snack, Bed, Repeat, I LOVE MYSELF!" Hey fatty, fuck you. I mean, it's great to know that not only can you read and write, but efficiently wipe yourself. However, there's no reason for you to put your schedule up on your away message. I mean, frankly, if you're this big of a loser nobody's going to want to hang out or talk to you anyway, why would they need your schedule. People like this are such huge losers, they could put a suicide note up as their away message and nobody would know they were dead for weeks.

2. Don't give me some deep fucking quote that I don't care about: "A bird's feathers are like the wings of life soaring up so high to the sky that you feel you can spread out and praise the lord." When you do this, you sound like a retard (which is appropriate because you probably are one). I mean, first of all, I'm smarter than you. Chances are not only do I know your lame-ass quote, but a bunch more that you don't. Unless you're Kurt Vonnegut (and I know you're not because he's dead), you are not allowed to do that--you don't have that right.

3. Don't profess your love to your significant other: "I love Kimmy so much it hurts!" Seriously, stop trying to reassure yourself that you're not gay, because we all know you are. Here's a hint, maybe if you actually tell her that "you love her so much," instead of making her computer tell her, she'll stop cheating on you with your best friend (no promises, because it also might have something to do with your physical and emotional inadequacies).

In conclusion, I don't care about you or what you're doing. Now I know that when you're away from your computer you absolutely can't turn off AIM (shocking concept, I know) because Bobby Jones (the STD-ridden quarterback who's fucked the whole cheerleading squad except for you) may be checking in to see what "6th string" is up to. But for the love of Christ, if you're not there, just TURN OFF AIM. But if you really can't do that, just put up "away," because the rest of us don't care about your sad, pathetic life.

Another Blonde Joke

2007-11-13T19:16:00.002-08:00

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!

2007-11-13T12:52:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-12T00:42:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-11T21:43:00.000-08:00

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?

2007-11-09T08:36:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-08T15:50:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-07T08:51:00.001-08:00

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'

2007-11-06T18:15:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-04T16:12:00.000-08:00

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

2007-11-02T14:13:00.000-07:00

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

2007-11-02T13:51:00.001-07:00

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.

I before E, except after http://

2007-10-30T06:30:00.000-07:00

It is becoming more and more obvious that most people are forgetting (or don't care) how to spell. And in a digital world where the information needs to get to you first - function over form - I've relaxed my spelling and grammar etiquette a little bit, beleive me. But no matter how many spelling mistakes you make while rofling ur lol, you must always make sure you remember how to properly spell one thing - the name of the website. If you screw that up, it is impossible to know where you might end up (though it's statistically probable that it will be a porn site).

I myself made this mistake recently - I forgot how to spell the name of this very website. In fact, for the last 3 months since the site's launch, I've been actively trying to navigate to weirdcomedy.blogspot.com (ahh! feels good to finally type it right). The beauty of the internet is that you tend to get interested in the sites you find, even if you are lost, so my misspellings of this website have led me to several other interesting pages. To save you the time and the free iPod offers, I have documented my travels and must warn others: do not spell WeirdComedy wrong.

wiredcomedy.blogspot.com

Formerly a popular IT and computer joke database in the late 90s, the rights to the website have since been transferred to "Wired Comedy" an improv comedy troupe in which all of the members have braces.

idrewmycoed.blogspot.com

For the past 10 years, IDrewMyCoed has been the premiere art destination for college parents wanting to show off anything from charcoal sketches to finger paintings of their female undergraduates. There are currently no pictures on display and the site is under federal investigation.

ewcorydidme.blogspot.com

A social networking site for young women who have had the regrettable experience of hooking up with any guy named Cory. The site is based off of the fundamental principle that there never has been a guy named Cory worth talking positively about. New users to the site are cautioned that child star Feldman's first name is spelled Corey, thus exempting him from the rule.

medicdrewyo.blogspot.com

"Medic Drew, Yo!" appeals to the young, urban crowd and claims to be the number one site for low-income medical advice on a no-income salary. Unintelligible users violently mash the keyboard until a health question is formed, at which point Medic Drew, M.D. hits them back with advice that they can comprehend in an welfare-centric medium: rap lyrics. "She stripper, she dancer, da Mistubishi Lancer - done smoked and now you do da cancer. Medic Drew, yo!"

deridemycow.blogspot.com

A site where bitter farmers come to contemptuously ridicule other farmers' livestock.

myredcowdied.blogspot.com

A memorial website dedicated to remembering a great amber-colored bovine who was pushed over the edge after reading the hateful comments about him on deridemycow.blogspot.com

So in summary, there are 2 m's. Don't misspell it.

Titanic Goes Down

2007-10-19T10:17:00.000-07:00

I enjoy giving and recieving. Acts of kindness, that is. Holding the door for someone, or having someone prop the door for you when your hands are full. These are the little things in life that remind me of our collective humanitarian ambitions. It's the sour apples that enjoy sour appleness that tickle my anger.

For instance, why would you hire someone to act as a key producer in your internet upstart company, and then not pay them? Do you build the Titanic with workers that actually want it to hit an iceburg and go down into the abyss? No my friends, you don't. Leonardo would have taken a serious digger off the front of that monumental ship because the handrail was faulty. Splash! Oh, sorry boss, my bad. So much for bangin' out that chick in the backseat of someone elses model T. I can't get that image of her handprint on the window out of my mind by the way.

Moving on, I got a ride up a steep hill today from a complete stranger that assumed I was a student on his campus when in fact I was only there for a freelance editing job. I could have been a serial killer for all this kid knew, but turns out it's me. Lucky for him that he's still alive, lucky for me that I didn't break a sweat this morning before arriving at work. The moral of the story is that you should be constantly looking to give out random acts of kindness, just not to serial killers. They'll kill you slow.

Parker

loudtalkers

2007-10-17T11:37:00.000-07:00

In my opinion, the only thing worse than a close-talker is a loud talker. I've encountered a few of these "loud talkers" recently and have been curious as to how they became the way they are. First let me clarify who loud talkers (subsequently referred to as LT's) are. An LT talks above the normal decibel standard of a conversation. They aren't deaf, but choose to project their voice louder than the average person. What concerns me about loud talkers is their inability to recognize how loud they are actually talking. Sometimes LT's actually scream what they want to say without even realizing it. Anyways, this is just a quick message to all LT's out there....Shhhhhhh

Love,

Your quiet and polite friends.

Late Night Conversation

2007-10-04T12:18:00.000-07:00

Steve Grudist walked into his local 7-11 last night at 3:46 AM for some peanut M&M's and another tall, cold Coors Light. As he exited the facility he was accosted by two men standing 5 foot 8 and 6 foot 2, respectively. These homeless men were cold, hungry, and worst of all, hyped up on a combination of crystal meth and paint fumes. They smelled like a swamp infested with rats and diseased vermin, but Steve choked back his disgust and kindly said hello to the two men standing in his way.
"Hey Guys, what can I do you for?"
Confused by his upbeat nature, the men pulled back in fear, confusion and fear, but mainly because of the drugs. Regaining his confidence quickly, the taller man replied "Gimme some change."
"Well that's all? Sure, here ya go fella!"
Steve pulled his change out of his pocket and handed it to the bum's outstretched hand, who thanked him by grunting twice.
"And your beer man, gimme your beer too."
"I'm afraid not homey-slice, this one's mine. Now I can either continue to argue with you about this, or I can kick you in the face and take my change back, or you can move aside and let me go, it's your choice."
The two homeless, dirty, smelly men looked at each other, thought about what Steve said, forgot what Steve said, then out of confusion and fear, parted to allow Steve's passage. That's it. That's the story. He went home and ate his peanut M&M's and drank his cold, tall Coors Light alone in his studio apartment.

A Series of Unfortunate Events

2007-10-03T09:35:00.000-07:00

Today, I left my pathetic work study job to go have lunch in my favorite chair down the hallway. This is a ritual for me. Excited to eat my turkey and pepper jack cheese sandwich, I opened my lunch and sat down. Then.....BOOM!! An explosion from underneath me. Someone had placed their full styrofoam cup of coffee conveniently on the seat of the chair in which I sat. Coffee flew everywhere, and the back of my shorts got drenched with a nice brown stain. It seriously looked like I shit my pants. Looking forward to the potential embarassment of being a 22 year old law student who shits his pants, I went to the bathroom and began drying off the coffee with paper towels to no avail. People were coming in and out of the bathroom as I essentially wiped my ass in front of them. It was horrible and didn't work. Plan B. I stood underneath the hand dryer and awkwardly tried to position my shorts to be dried off. More people came in, but at this point, I didn't care. My balls were going to be soaking in coffee-drenched boxer briefs all day, so at the very least, I'd get rid of all the visible damage. Currently, I'm sitting at work, with little inclination to get up until I know the stain is gone. I might actually stay for my entire shift today.

But what really infuriates me about this whole situation is that there was a trash can immediately next to the chair on which the coffee was on. Is it really that hard to lift your arm an extra inch to put the cup in the garbage?! Apparently, it is. I'm afraid to sit down. Damn you coffee drinking swine!

What's Up Dude?

2007-09-28T09:53:00.000-07:00

This morning I woke up, hit the snooze for an hour, pissed, ate, dressed and walked out the front door of my building when a black guy dressed up as a woman waved at me. I waved back and replied, "What's up dude," which I thought was appropriate. He spun around exhalted, whipping his false lengths of dirty blonde hair up in the air, and walked away. Just thought I'de tell you. Thought you might get a giggle out of men dressing up as women but still being recognizable as men and having other men call them out on it. Because I sure laughed this morning. I should switch from coffee to pissing of trannies. That's what gets me goin' in the mornin'. "Hey HONEY! HOW MUCH YOU BENCH?!"

Modern Day Jesus

2007-09-20T16:20:00.001-07:00

This video is hilarious, 'nuf said.

Let Me Borrow That Top

2007-09-20T16:14:00.000-07:00

This guy is actually pretty funny, you may know him from his hit "Let's get some shoes" that has apparently opened many doors, because here is his new track's music video that's laden with stars entitled "Let me borrow that top." Chiggity check it before you wreck it -

Woodcock-Johnson is No Laughing Matter

2007-09-19T23:11:00.000-07:00

So if you're from California (which I'm not hence this is news to me), you've undoubtedly taken a Woodcock-Johnson at some point in your life. Chances are, you took your first Woodcock-Johnson somewhere around 4th grade, and took at least one every year until you graduated high school, at which point you really started getting fucked. I'm talking, of course, about the Woodcock-Johnson Aptitude Test.
Now not being from a state that would allow such ridiculousness to occur (holla big jerze), I didn't believe my colleague who told me about the Woodcock-Johnson. "There's no way such a test exists," I said. How could two grown adults with such hilarious names (especially when placed together) come up with a test and possibly think that naming it after themselves was a good idea? Now, to their credit, these names do carry a bit of what I like to call, "Captain Planet Syndrome." Apart, like the characters in the show, these names are harmless and relatively worthless. Together, however, they create a world of hurt in which anyone would be brought to their knees (with laughter you sick fucks). I did some digging, and after being directed to 7 or so different porn sites, found out that the Woodcock-Johnson Aptitude Test is, in fact, real. No wonder test scores are so shitty here! Students spend the entire allotted time laughing and drawing inappropriate illustrations on the front of their test books, instead of feeling the full effect of the Woodcock-Johnson!
My mind was racing. How could this be? Is it possible that a person named Woodcock and a person named Johnson worked in the same field, studied the same materials, and found each other to form a team? Clearly the answer to this is a resounding yes--a yes that's so big, you really can't miss it. Which leads me to the next and yet unanswered question, did these two people honestly think that they can write a long, hard test, name it the Woodcock-Johnson and expect people not to find this slightly mind-boggling? Are these two people such freaking drips that they didn't even notice that together their names sound less like a test for 5th graders, and more like a triple X porno? Be truthful, how many of you out there purchased the Woodcock-Johnson Home Video and thought you were going to see the entire cast of "Busty Cops 3?" I'm sure you were very disappointed to have ordered a home study guide for an aptitude test; but hey, whatever gets you off, right?
I intend to find out more about this Woodcock-Johnson. I must get to the bottom of who these people are, why they decided to make a test (moreover why it was implemented without a name change), and whether or not these two goons were totally high when they submit it for approval. But for now, we'll have to make do with our limited information, and idly stand by as our nation has trouble taking the long, hard, Woodcock-Johnson.

Don't Tase Me Bro!

2007-09-19T16:52:00.000-07:00

Video of police tasering a persistent questioner of Senator John Kerry became an internet and TV sensation yesterday, generating fierce debate about free speech and the motives of the college student involved - a known prankster who often posts practical jokes online. The student, Andrew Meyer, 21, was asking probing questions about why Kerry had opted out of the presidential race and wondered if he and Bush were part of the same secret society while enrolled together at Yale. Basically the freakin' kid got tasered in front of everyone and nobody did anything, not even Kerry. Take a look, it's hilarious. Don't tase me bro!

You Might Know Him

2007-09-19T10:51:00.000-07:00

This fucker wakes me up every god damn morning. 8 o'clock on the dot, every freaking day. I smack him as hard as I can, but no matter what he's fucking screaming at me five minutes later. I hate getting up and he's always trying his hardest to make me do just that. But I gotta love him for it because I wouldn't have a job by now if it wasn't for him. He's got a great taste in music and is dependable, so I keep him in my loop. Good looking too, very sleek, always styled. Pimp as hell, I know hundreds of girls that have him in their bedrooms. He's a good dude, but I don't take him on vacation with me, because nobody wants an alarm clock on vacation. Fucking alarm clock. Haha.

Nerd Dork Geek

2007-09-17T17:30:00.000-07:00

What is the difference between a nerd, a dork and a geek? This question has been under debate for the past several decades and I am here to set the record straight. See people do not understand the subtle difference between these terms or realize the consequences of using them incorrectly. You would not call a girl a guy or a porn star a hooker and so you shouldn't call a nerd a dork. I am a nerd. Yup I nerd it up all the time. But what I DO NOT EVER DO is geek or dork it up. No sir that some shit I will not inhale. So here is the break down so if anybody ever calls me a dork or geek ever again I will be forced to strap them to a chair and make them watch all 17 seasons of Star Trek.

Genus:Nerd
Description: Enjoys video games, computers, science, star wars, various sci-fi shows/movies and learning. The nerd has been know to party and for the most part nerds show no real outward signs of dorkage or geekage. Nerds can be found in every profession and every part of the world. Most nerd do not even realize they are nerds but the best and most current calculations put the nerd population at about 20%.

Genus:Dork
Description: Enjoys my of the same things as a nerd but are much more fanatical about it. Dorks have been know to spend days and nights on their computers playing computer games and watch lord of the rings ritualistically. They rarely party and travel in packs. When threatened they tend to scatter. Recent studies have shown a genetic link between dorks and impotency.

Genus:Geek
Description: They suck. Geeks are basically dorks but they are assholes about it. They think they are smarter than everyone else and look like bungholes most of the time. They work in small groups to try and maximize ass kissing potential. They have the ability to ruin wet dreams and squash any conversation. If you come in contact with a geek you should take a full shower within 30 minutes or risk being infected.

I am glad I had this opportunity to clear this issue up. Now when you see a geek you will know exactly what to do.....tie it to a tree and put honey on its face.

Tripped Out Crackies

2007-09-17T10:43:00.000-07:00

I ride my bike around at night in Los Angeles. I watch tourists, performers, and crackheads mingle in this pseudo-reality known as Hollywood. On the off chance that a cracky found some acid you might catch an interesting side-show. Who knows. Was that Eva Longoria? Maybe. Does whistling from a hydrolic enabled low-rider at pedestrians count as courtship? Yes.
The question is, my friend, what will it take to become one of these side show freaks that spends their evenings among the touristas? And the answer is simple muchacho. A Casio keyboard.
My next door neighbor's ex-girlfriend left behind a big ass old school Casio that I have been jamming the fuck out on recently. For some reason, even though I have very little to no musical talent, I'm a regular Tiesto on this thing. For the past week or so I have been nonstop beatmaking, guitar riffing, banjo plucking and special effect washing song after song. I can't record them yet, but I intend to take my act to the streets with some acoustic guitar help from my friend Wes. We're gona blow these tripped out crackhead's minds, I can't wait.

Telemarketers

2007-09-12T11:57:00.000-07:00

Me: "Hello"
X: "Hi, Mr. Harmer?"
Me: "Yes?"
X: "How's your day going?"
Me: "Uhh...pretty good. Who is this?"
X: "It's Sally from the Sloman's Shield"
Me: "Sweet. That's exactly what my apartment needs. The 15 peripheral cameras and 4 deadbolts definitely weren't enough, especially in a town that only had 3 crimes last year. Thanks Sally from the Sloman's Shield!!"

Well, I didn't say that last line...but I was definitely thinking it. Ever since I moved into my new apartment, I've been called by more telemarketers than you could ever imagine. We're talking 3 to 4 calls A DAY. I know the people who call probably hate their life and job, so I'm always polite with them and just hang up. However, I'd like to know 2 things. 1) Do people actually buy things from Telemarketers? and 2) If so, who are these people? I mean, honestly, do you really expect me to get baited by your inquiry as to how my day's going and then go on to purchase a security system?! The only way I would buy your stupid security system is if it had a feature to prevent you from calling me ever again. OK...lets assume that there is a person that might buy something over the phone. For analysis purposes, lets call him Asshole. Asshole has really been wanting to donate to America's Necrophiliacs-United Society (ANUS). So ANUS calls Asshole asking him to donate, but its 6 p.m. and Asshole is about to eat dinner, and Asshole hates it when ANUS calls and interupts dinner, so Asshole hangs up immediately like an asshole. Last time I checked, "tele-marketing" includes the word "marketing," and calling people during dinner is horrible marketing, or maybe I'm just the asshole.

Going to the Beach Not Just Sand and Waves

2007-09-10T12:07:00.001-07:00

I was at the beach the other day. In fact, I go to the beach quite a bit. It's fantastic to sit on the beautiful sandy shores, look out at the oil tankers that litter the horizon, and listen to the melodic sound of jets taking flight from the scenic LAX. But the other day, I saw something really quite disgusting. More so than rusty gates buried under sand. More so than gross hypodermics washing up to my feet. I was leaving with some friends (because, really, how much beauty can one take in one day?), and preparing to rinse my feet at the showers. There were throngs of fat people trying to take a shower (probably the first they've taken in weeks). I know what you're saying: "Mike, I've seen you in a bathing suit plenty of times, and you see yourself in the mirror every morning, surely this isn't what you were so grossed out about?" Well you're right, it wasn't. Wading in the ankle deep filth, I saw a young girl aged maybe 13 or 14 douching herself like there was no tomorrow. Now I understand that at Venice Beach, you're likely to not find the model of social grace and the débutante lifestyle, but here was this young girl, who apparently had never heard of a douche bag (see illustration) besides those jerk-offs she's been dating lately. She got down into the filthy water, positioned herself in front of the foot cleaner (gross enough to begin with), opened her bikini front and wiped like there was no tomorrow. Now, as if this wasn't vulgar enough, she then turned around and did the same thing with her asshole (and I'm not talking about her father). This was one of the grossest things I think I've ever seen. Can you not wait until you get home? I'm sure you've had much worse in your vagina than a few grains of sand, you raunchy 15 year old. Next time you think, "how will I ever get home without douching myself in public, grossing everyone out, and possibly contracting a few VDs (nothing new for you, I know)?" I suggest you take a look around, and realize that nobody wants to see you clean yourself you stank-snatched ho, at least not in public. Don't ruin the scenery, I have oil tankers to relax with.

Hollyhood

2007-09-10T10:56:00.000-07:00

Most people think that Hollywood is just all glitz and glamour. Celebrities and money. Hummers and BJ's. Well, as a newly appointed local of Hollywood I can tell you that those people are dead-on correct in their assumptions. In this case, an ass is made of nobody. If you think you'll happen to walk upon a film set just because you're cruising along Hollywood Blvd. on your skateboard, you're right. If you think you'll bump into the guy that did the "Truffle Shuffle" in the Goonies on Franklin avenue occaisonally, you're also correct. And if you think that Tim Meadows, known for "The Ladies Man" on SNL, just cruises up to the local comedy shop for shows, then by golly man you've got the Hollywood mindset down pat. Which brings me to my next point. Why the fuck does everyone freak their shit when they see these people? I'll admit that if I meet Jessica Alba in person I might sport a tent, but drooling over some celebrity while their selecting their favorite cheese is just weird. Weird like comedy. Celebrities are regarded on high in this town and abroad, but not in my book. Their really just actors, actresses and models. Most of them are too retarded to handle their own business, or act as healthy parents and here we are giving them money for it. Good job Britney, you really fucked that up, here's a load of cash.

How to Effectively Not Work While Working

2007-09-06T09:40:00.000-07:00

I was recently hired as a "technical services specialist" under the work/study program at my law school. For those who don't know what a work/study position is, you bascially choose from a variety of jobs that require minimal amounts of effort. And by minimal, I mean no effort at all. After going through a lengthy and comletely unnecessary interview that discussed all of my previous employment history and career aspirations, I was hired into this position. Let me break down what is required of me. 1) Sit at a sweet podium in a foreign language computer lab, 2)Enforce the "no food or drink" policy (which I obviously don't do...I'm currently eating and drinking in the lab), and 3)When a student asks where to sign in for their appropriate class, I raise my arm to the left and point at the notebook entitled "Sign-In." That is all I have to do, and let me tell you, it is way too fucking much to ask of me...so I've figured out how to beat the system. This is how I've done it.

-I come in 45 minutes late every day. I know my boss doesn't know my hours, so I write down that I was on time.
-My boss sits in an office adjacent to the computer lab. He rarely gets up and can't see me from where his desk is. So every 30 minutes, I leave my podium but leave tons of books and papers on the table to make it look like I'm doing something important. I actually just got back from a 2 1/2 hour lunch break. (My shift is only 4 hours).
-I made a huge sign that directs students to the sign-in sheet, because I was tired of pointing to it.
-I have premade excuses in case he ever asks where I was (i.e. I was in the bathroom, I was helping someone create a username in the campus center, etc.)
-I patronize my boss, so he feels like he should be honored to have me working for him. This prevents him from trying to tell me what to do.

I get paid 10 dollars an hour for this shit, so to all of you New Jersey tax payers....thank you.

Lines

2007-08-25T19:42:00.000-07:00

Everyone knows those places where the happiest and most friendly people go to relax and congregate. And none of these places are trainstations, malls, subways, bus terminals, terminals of any kind, lines of any kind, and you can't forget airports. It amazes me that places intended to progress the human race seem to magically produce some of the worst attitudes in people. One minute a family is linking arms sporting fanny packs ready for their annual trip to disney world and the next minute, you're watching their overweight father cursing at a Burger King manager about his flight delay. But unlike Burger King, you can't have it your way in one of these situations because you're helpless. There's something about standing in line that just pisses me off. Here's what happened in the last two lines I was in:
1) Grocery store line - the "loud breather" - This fatass was standing very close behind me and breathing like he had half a lung. If you're gonna breathe that loud, at least have the courtesy to direct it somewhere other than the back of my neck.
2)DMV Line - the "unnecessary small talker" - The DMV is a great place to meet people. After standing in several lines and feeling like I won the lottery when they called my number, I stood behind some ugly lady who turned around and said "Wow, what a nice day outside. Did you do anything fun today?" Sorry, but I didn't remember talking to you, and second, it's 10 a.m. and I've been in line for 2 hours. So yeah, I did a lot of fun things today, bitch.

Fuck you lines.

Artists Starving to Death

2007-08-19T13:10:00.001-07:00

Deceased Californian artists are being found in back alleys, on the beach and in the middle of downtown streets in large numbers. Lack of interest in their introspective artwork is chief among possible causes of death. Most believe that these starving artists just, well, starved. About the recently deceased man laying in a nearby gutter, this local said that "his work was genius, a true artist. But honestly, I would rather just buy a fresh pair of kicks or go to the movies than purchase his stuff." General audiences feel the same way, as a tourist was recently overheard saying that "it's good artwork, but I just don't care. Plus, they smell funny and dress like bums. I want to buy artwork from people that don't look like they're starving, thank you." When confronted about his thinning physique, a local artist replied, "yea, I'm starving and these people don't even care. They would rather jerk off to Jason Bourne than intellectually stimulate their minds. Gosh I'm hungry." Sucks for you, artist.

Local Dog licks own vagina

2007-08-15T22:29:00.000-07:00

Female scientists were appalled today when, Wedgie, a two year old pitbull licked her own vagina on the first try. The leading doctor on the team of researchers said that "women have been trying to do this for years and we are currently looking into how she does it, exactly." A select few humans have been able to accomplish the much saught after feat, including Korean contortionist Yu Lin. "I stretched for years, urning for the day I could [chomp my own box]. I remember it like it was this morning. Oh wait, that's because I did it again during breakfast today. Mmm." Greenwich High School football coach Steve Bristol told this reporter that he hoped the research team would come up with something, and fast. "My wife refuses to shower, and I would love to give her a taste of her own medicine, if you know what I mean." Here's hoping Steve, here's hoping.

Parents Need to Wash Consciences, Not Mouths

2007-08-15T13:33:00.001-07:00

Has anyone ever thought about how seriously fucked-up this is? You take a bar of what used to be made of whale fat (and God knows what it's made of now) that people use to wash their balls with and shove it into your child's mouth? What kind of sick, twisted world do we live in when parents can do this and not get hauled away to prison? Tell you what, parents, next time you do something dirty like bang the babysitter or the gardener, I'll fart in your mouth and we'll see how you like it. Sadly that would probably be a hell of a lot cleaner than that disgusting bar of "cleanser" you use every morning in the shower. And why do we engage in this practice, might I ask? Because your son or daughter said "doody," I suppose. What kind of message does that send? It's OK for mommy to wash your mouth with soap, but you can't refer to the matter that happens to be covering it? It's OK for daddy to down 3 bottles of whiskey over the course of the day, but you can't have fun with your friends on a Friday night saying cuss words? Next time you sick bastards want to wash your kids mouths out with soap, I'll remind you to take a look at not only the disgusting pubic hair that's on the soap, but also at yourselves...maybe you should be washing more than your kids mouths.

Man Takes of Photo Man Take

2007-08-13T22:22:00.000-07:00

Scientists were baffled this past Monday when a common man revealed that all of Einstein's findings, anything Stephen Hawking has ever said, and life as we know it is completely ass backwards and wrong. Using a simple digital camera and a black hole found in his attic, John from Chicago stunned the world. No optical trickery, illusions or LSD were used to produce this image. John has found a gateway into other worlds where there are other Johns looking right back with similar cameras, confused faces, and the same visual deficiencies. The other John from the side other issued a statement in a foreign tongue that stumped our best translator, Miguel. "Me have no clue what he says, no." Even local Scientologists were taken aback, which, given that they believe in a science fiction author's incessant ranting, is also odd. I hope the world isn't going to end soon because I would totally owe that homeless guy the twenty bucks I bet him he was wrong. Well, here's hoping.

Peanut Butter files for divorce from Jelly

2007-08-13T12:01:00.000-07:00

After decades of marriage to Jelly, Peanut Butter was caught last week sandwiched between two pieces of bread with a newly ripened banana, local deli customers say. Jelly was infuriated by the ordeal, and looked lonely sitting in the refrigerator next to the sexually permiscuous Purple Stuff and Sunny D. Distraught by the news, Jelly assured this reporter that "he'll be back." It doesn't look like Peanut Butter will be spreading back into her arms anytime soon though, as he has just filed for divorce from the berry blend. Banana was not available for comment, but has been seen shopping in the bread isle with her new buttery spread for seven grain, whole wheat, and of course, white. Neighbors complain Banana is rarely wearing her protective peel, and listens to Gwen Stefani at much too high of a decible for comfort. "It's just so sad," said a local boy who has eaten the famed "P-B-and J" sandwich for the last three lunches. "My mom used to cut them diagonally, and now, well, I guess she still can." Known for fraternizing with milkshakes and ice-cream, this isn't the first marriage Banana has broken and it doesn't look like it will be the last. I guess that her shit is bananas, b.a.n.a.n.a.s.

You enjoy it rough, sandpaper.

2007-08-12T17:47:00.000-07:00

For the past forty some odd years sandpaper has been rough around the edges, the middle, yet surprisingly not the other side. Ranging in grittyness is just one of many skills that sandpaper has acquired over its lifespan. Other areas of interest include battling splinters and buffing your kitten's plaything last Saturday night when everyone else was out drinking. Sandpaper neglected to comment on its other side, but has been overheard calling it "soft." When interviewed, the other side said that the rough side was "an inconsiderate dick", and had recently left a rash on his brand new sneakers. These inseperable objects better stop bickering and get back to work.

Hospitals Don't Really Matter

2007-08-10T18:47:00.000-07:00

LOS ANGELES (AP) -
"Federal regulators said Friday they're pulling $200 million in funding from a troubled hospital that serves the inner-city poor, condemning the facility to almost certain death." Officials stated that "conditions at the facility have placed the health and safety of patients at great risk," apparently more risk than trying to borrow a siringe for an intra-veinous medical drip from "G-Slice," a neighborhood crackhead.

When interviewed, G-Slice stated "At least I'm tryin' to help, shit. Say homey, you want to let me borrow that microphone for a second? I be right back, I be right back, I just got to, uh... record some shit! Give it to me!"

When asked where the 200 million will be transferred to, the federalis had no comment. This reporter, however, knows that anyone living in Los Angeles can see the billboards for half-ass feature films, television series, and consumer driven products are steadily growing larger by the day. This new federal regulation by federal regulators shows the world exactly where American mouths are, because our money is wrapped around every celebrity penis and/or vagina on the market. Mmm, only if that were true in the literal sense I think I can speak for my country when I say that I would pay extra to make sure that hospital stayed closed.

Umbrella says "Oh rain, why aren't you flavored? Gosh you're bland."

2007-08-10T16:18:00.000-07:00

Oh umbrella, you are so useful. Especially at a party dedicated to wearing crazy hats, you still provide great flair. Oh umbrella at the hat party, do you feel left out? Let's take a photo. There, do you feel more useful? Great. That's great. Hey you sexy umbrella, what are you doing after this? We should get up and find ourselves a drain to stand under. Not classy enough? Damn umbrella, what do you think this is? Fine, we'll play in a fountain, jeez. Freakin' umbrella-ella-ella-ella, eh, eh, eh.

I can't believe they let me do this

2007-08-10T15:58:00.000-07:00

So apparently they allow people to just go freakin' nuts on any old blog page anywhere in the entire world, and they made the mistake of allowing me to do so as well. Gotta love them internets. This is my first post on Weird Comedy! I should celebrate by smelling my own fart, *sniff*, mmmm. This is going to be fun.