My lovely grayed and angry parents are in San Francisco visiting for the week so heavy drinking and masturbating are off the to-do list. Even though their hotel room is several blocks away, with my luck I’d get the urge to tug the a.m. wood at the exact moment they decide to “drop in” with coffee and bagels for a surprise breakfast.
I can see it now: hot coffee hitting the floor, followed by bagels, followed by my fainting mother. Dad working himself into a huge huff, somehow blaming the whole situation on Obama’s second term, all while I’m thrashing around trying to cover up the crime scene.
I’m trying to watch this otherwise wonderful documentary on the cosmos but every time they cut to this one Astronomer Philip, he starts giving his Hollywood scripted doomsday scenarios about an asteroid hitting Earth, or the Sun exploding like a Supernova… Christ Almighty Philip! Can I just learn about space without all the Hollywood shtick?
And of course they’ve got CGI special effects to illustrate his wild scenarios in full detail – because learning about the Universe isn’t fascinating enough without footage of NYC getting blown the fuck up by an angry Quasar. In fact, if they took out all the scenes of recognizable landmarks being vaporized, the documentary would be nothing but intro credits and one hour of Astro-Philip talking to himself in the dark. Now that the shuttle program is grounded, I’m sure he just sits around mission control all day, calculating how far a Pulsar could flip a school bus or something.
I can assume his bosses in Houston won’t let him on the space station either. He’s a little too buggy-eyed to be trusted up there – I’m sure he’d try snorting Adderall off of the control panel and end up steering it towards the Sun. That’s probably why he’s on the Discovery channel instead of in orbit; it keeps him occupied when he’s not scraping the rust off of old shuttle parts.
Considering a pet? Consider a monkey. Owning a monkey can be very rewarding and will save you tons of time and energy with the proper training. Here is a quick overview of some basic monkey care & maintenance:
First, your monkey will have to be fed a strict vegetarian diet to simplify the management of it’s fecal output. Potty training is necessary, as keeping a diaper on a monkey is like boiling pasta with the lid on. Monkeys tend to be more comfortable than humans when handling feces, therefore owners must be diligent about performing daily spot checks under couch cushions and behind appliances.
Care for your monkey without making it feel loved or needed. A primate is not like a dog that will innocently hump your leg when it’s horny. A monkey will violently take that ass if it so desires.
Keep the monkey’s fingernails neatly trimmed. Risk of infection increases tenfold if the monkey chooses to scratch you with the same hand it juggles poop with. Also, be sure to comb the debris out of its hair… maybe rub its shoulders if it had a long day cleaning your apartment.
Trust must be earned. Until then, install a webcam to monitor the monkey’s behavior while you are away.
Assign the monkey a series of simple tasks such as replacing toilet paper rolls or setting the dinner table. Next, work your way up to having it draw you a bath or stealing your neighbor’s fed-ex packages.
In captivity, a monkey’s sex drive can be explosive and unpredictable – I suggest providing a pillow with a hole cut into it or a carnival-sized stuffed animal for the monkey to twerk on.
Some species are not advised for those with children, elderly in-laws or small pets.
You will need to choose a monkey large enough to intimidate an adversary, yet not so strong that you couldn’t overpower it. If it happens to get drunk or out of line you must be willing to punch it in the neck and establish dominance early on, otherwise if your monkey senses fear it will not hesitate to rape you or a loved one for sport. Reprimand your monkey without fear of retaliation. Virtually all bronze package gym memberships provide owners with enough cardio and strength training to overpower a sober 40lb. monkey.
Over time, a strong platonic bond should form between you and your monkey. This will allow you the freedom to ask it for increasingly laborious favors without it catching on to your scheme or rebelling too violently. This will take some time though, you can not rush things such as attrition.
Why would anyone risk smuggling cocaine inside their asshole when Whole Foods is moving pine nuts for $30 per pound! I don’t know what platinum-plated pine cone species they’re harvesting these seeds from, but it’s driving up the cost of my spinach and toasted pine nut salad through the fucking roof!
I tried substituting the pine nuts with peanuts yesterday but that just made my salad totally unenjoyable because who knew it’s IMPOSSIBLE EAT PEANUTS WITH A EFFING FORK! It’s not like semi-soft pine nuts that conveniently slide between the fork tines. Peanuts either roll off the side of the fork like a fat kid on a see-saw or split in half without any regard for your spinach-to-nut ratio!
I’m sure the Whole Foods cartel is just running a racket on the general public right now; assassinating pine cone farmers in Guatemala, clear cutting pine trees, lowering the supply to drive up prices in the States – It’s basic nut economics folks. But I know that no seed on the planet is worth an asking price of $30 per pound unless it sprouts into the clouds where giants shuffle around scratching their asses. Whole Foods is nuts if they think I’m supporting their dirty practices.
Good morning Assholes, my name is Wilford Brimley and I’d like to take a minute to talk to those of you out there fiddle-diddling around, wasting your life on these weblogs. I know this is gonna require some reading on your part which is damn near impossible for a shit stain such as yourself but hear me out… I want to discuss some things that’ll help you live a better life. As you know, you logger-headed kids are the reason this country is going to hell in a handbasket and we adults aren’t gonna stand for it any longer! There’s gonna be some changes around here!
First order of business, I want you kids to clean up that crack den you call a bedroom! Throw out all your dildos, pocket pussies and penis pumps and pick up a good book! Educate yourselves! Albert Einstein didn’t sit around lubing up his genitals all goddamn day, and if he did, it was probably to reward himself for discovering the foundations of our physical reality dammit! I don’t see you poo-packers out there testing quantum theory! You just spend your days listening to music that ties my colon in knots! Let’s cut a deal, you find out how to harness the power of nuclear fusion, then you can stick those beads up your ass til the cows come home! Deal?
Next, I want you kids to pull out all those ridiculous facial piercings and earlobe stretcher things! If the good Lord intended you to look like a circus sideshow you woulda been born with a wine cork stuck through your goddamn earlobes! Besides, nobody’s gonna hire some surly clack-dish with metal sticking out of his face, unless you wanna be hosing down elephant shit from a train car for the rest of your life! Damn carnies. Our American brothers and sisters died to protect your freedoms and here you are sticking horseshoe rasps through your goddamn septum!
Lastly, start a savings account. Put a few dollars away everyday instead of spending your every last dime on candy and soda and lube. What happens when it comes time for you to move out of mommy and daddy’s house into the real world? You’ll end up having to spend your evenings down at the State Welcome Center, fondling the humid testicles of some trucker for pennies on the dollar! Who knows, maybe he’ll grow fond of your facial piercings and then you two assholes can go live happily ever after with an extended stay program at Motel 6! Do what you want! You seem to have all the goddamn answers!
Target is my favorite place to go when I want to observe horrible parents and their fat offspring. Stores like Target are just feed-lots with tile floors. Suit & tie types usually shop within a 15 minute window and they’re out. The lower rungs of society graze the isles all afternoon like they just woke up from surgery.
Whatever. After dodging a small platoon of sugar-high mexican toddlers, I made my way to the toothpaste isle where I noticed they’re now selling Mint Chocolate flavored toothpaste because… fuck your teeth, that’s why!
Crest is marketing this trash with a massive “Be Adventurous” slogan on the box, right about where legit toothpastes put their ADA approved logo stating it will actually clean your teeth better than a broom handle. Didn’t we gain our independence from Britain so subsequent generations wouldn’t have rotten teeth?
I didn’t get much sleep last night. I woke up at 2 am to the repetitive chant of some hoarse tranny hooker encouraging her pimp to “Get him Daddy! Get him Daddy!”
Over and over and over until I finally got up. STFU Tranny! Thrashing out of my sheets, I jumped out of bed to see what the fuss was about and lo and behold, it was some pimp swinging a pipe toward some other pimp. Standard Saturday night recreation. In these instances I usually keep a half stick of unsalted Land-o-Lakes butter on hand to throw down on the street creatures that keep me up, but alas, I used the last of it on some lemon pepper salmon for dinner – it was delicious.
Butter is my preferred weapon when dealing with loud hookers and street noise. The last time I tried to use a water balloon the fucking thing exploded against the window frame and completely soaked me – standing there shirtless in wet boxers – not my proudest moment. So from now on it’s strictly butter. Even if frozen, it won’t crack any skulls like sweet potatoes, and if I can get it to smack down within a few feet of them they usually scatter like roaches.