Tag Archives: low class

Target Consumer

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!


upperdecker.netCrest 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?






The Greatest Story Ever Told

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This guy Brian at work must have the most interesting stories any human being has ever told. The brilliant plot structure and character development are of pure genius. His wonderful narratives rival those of The Epic of Gilgamesh!

Move over Gilgamesh, Brian’s in town and he had like fuckin’ 6 shots of tequila and like fuckin’ 35 beers last night. And according to him: there were like these chicks at this table and he was all like fuckin’ buying them shots and he like got up to take a piss and fuckin’ came back and they all left and then he saw them drinking at this other bar across the street like an hour later!

Absolutely riveting Brian. Thank you.

2012: A Year In Review

Well here we are at the end of another wonderful year. Yes, 2012 had it’s ups and downs, a lot of laughs and a lot of tears but overall very prosperous and rewarding. Here are some highlights from the past year:

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Should’ve Been Born A Celebrity

Celebrities wake up in the morning to songbirds and sunshine, they rise from the pillow with really cool looking hair and breath reminiscent of mint and vanilla bean. Most of us spend the morning trying to transform ourselves from weather-beaten Yeti into something resembling a human being. The rich and famous have no concept of this daily struggle in front of the mirror. No ingrown hairs, callouses, acne, razor burn or bug bites. They never have to tease, comb and primp like the rest of us asymmetrical jackasses – their beauty is natural. Should’ve been born a celebrity.

Most of us spend the last hour of REM sleep dreaming about something far from reality, like: oh yes I’m really about to stick it into my sultry biology professor with the thick thighs right on her desk, she’s got one large bare breast popping out of her blazer and her skirt is hiked up revealing nothing but pink wet perfectly trimmed heaven – you clear her desk in one swoop of the arm and instantly wake to find your goldfish flapping around on the carpet and your alarm clock short circuiting in a pool of dirty water and broken glass. Your real life is no dream buddy. You’re never gonna bone the teacher and your late for work – should’ve been born a celebrity.

You probably drive a Ford Focus or Prius don’t you? Celebrities look down on thee for such lowly simpleton things. Driving a Prius to them would be like travelling on a 3-legged horse with diarrhea and a hornet’s nest on each stirrup. Driving a Ford would be like holding onto that same horse’s tail and just letting it drag you to your destination. Totally beneath them – you should’ve been born a celebrity.

And on and on it goes… the clothes, the parties, the money… the sad part is, you could find a cure for Cancer and AIDS in the same day and still not become a celebrity. No, you’d have to do something really special for the world like… be hot.


If Florida Was A Person…

Florida is the drunk uncle with chronic chapped lips who always wants to show his nieces and nephews that farts are flammable. The typical mosquito-bitten moron who decides it’s a good idea to try to jump over the bonfire when all the girls are watching. Plaid shirt, mesh hat, flip flops and a Coleman styrofoam cooler come standard.  Spends most weekends unsuccessfully hunting elk or pounding dollar draughts and threatening the Karaoke DJ to “change the fuckin song, faggot.” Most are unemployed weed dealers or employed in construction, bait & tackle shops or Jiffy Lubes.

Yes, Florida is like the time where you tried to wipe your ass but ended up smearing more  around in the process and then coming to the realization that you are 30+ years old and having to take a shower in the middle of the afternoon to clean shit off yourself all because you were impatient, careless and unkempt so you decide while showering to shave your asshole to prevent a repeat occurrence but end up creating a situation a few days later where the hairs start to grow back like a thicket of poison ivy and now you’re having to find sneaky ways to scratch your own ass through your stone-washed jean pockets in the presence of others because holy fuck you actually tried shaving your brown eye with a Mach 3 like a stupid Floridian!