Attention Air Mattress Companies… Make Your God Damn Bags Bigger
Fewer things in life are more difficult than properly putting an air mattress back in its dime bag sized pouch at the end of a rambunctious sleepover. Seriously. The last thing on Earth you want to do first thing on Sunday is wrestle a deflated bounce house into a pouch I couldn’t fit my two fucking nuts into. It’d be easier to win the Daytona 500 driving a logging truck backwards than steering one of these deflated swimming pools back into its kangaroo pouch after a night of debauchery with the boys. You’d have an easier time running a sumo wrestling convention in a doll’s sleeping bag than getting that cloth condom back in its ziplock sized satchel. I’d rather try to parallel park a Model T in someone’s asshole than try to get a god damn air mattress back in the bag it came with once it’s been unleashed from its impossibly tight confines. You would have better luck trying to ok enough examples you get the point.
But honestly, why do they make the god dang bags so small? I’m not participating in some cross fit event. Could we get literally one millimeter more of bag material? Jesus christ. I get that some sophisticated robot with the grip strength of Godzilla packed that at the factory for you, but until they’re cheap enough for every household to own we’d appreciate a little more bag material, ok? And yes, I’m sure there’s some dimwit out there who thinks they have the secret “trick” or whatever the fuck to get these things back in their bags, but your air mattress is probably one of those tiny twin ones I couldn’t fit a single ass cheek on, let alone the rest of my body and perhaps a lady of the night. Everyone knows when it comes to buying air mattresses you either go big or stay home. If I have to sleep on a god damn swimming floaty all night, the bitch better be big enough. Plus those cheap bastards probably only make one bag size, god forbid. So of course you can fit a twin into that thing. Hell you probably don’t even need to deflate it. Yeah. Try getting an Alaskan King into that same bag “Do they even make Alaskan King sized air mattresses?” If you can afford the $170 price tag they do. But I get it, ballin’ ain’t for everyone.
The moral of this blog is they need to start making adequately sized bags for air mattresses because this is getting rediculous. With the two fossils currently fighting for the presidency of this crazy country, you’d think one of them would talk about this hot button issue because I’m tired of getting my ass kicked by these things and their inflated egos.
Why Do So Many People Still Hold Their Phones To Talk While Driving?
You see it every day. People of all ages and backgrounds, holding their phones to talk while driving. Why? With these new vehicles and all of their modern technology do you still feel the need to talk into the actual phone? What possible reason could there be? Really. You like having 50% of your hands occupied while operating a several ton hunk of metal? Staying in your lane on the freeway is child’s play and you wanted a harder difficulty? No? Then what? Because you can’t tell me it’s easier to hear your dumb husband through that little phone speaker gunked up from ear grease and whatever the hell else you have in that land fill of a purse. Nope. That ain’t it. So what? Why do so many of you morons still do this? Hell I didn’t know these fancy new cars would even let you talk on the phone while driving. I just assumed the whole thing bursts into flames on the freeway or something, as surely anyone with a new car can figure out how to work Apple CarPlay or Android Auto. And in case you weren’t aware of how this works, literally plug your phone into the car and it does the rest. That’s it. If you have the eye-hand coordination to pick your nose, you can connect your phone to your new car. Congratulations. You’re not a complete ass hat anymore.
And how do drug dealers use their two phones while driving? One phone in each hand and then you’re just driving with what? A boner if you have one? It’s amazing some of you can even keep your cars on the road with how many things your doing at the same time. From talking on the phone, checking your ex’s snapchat location, texting, cursing the car behind you for honking at you to go while you were texting, the list goes on and on.
But honestly, why would I want one hand constantly occupied by my damn phone while driving? There’s so many other way better things a hand can be doing. Picking your nose. Changing the music. Flipping the bird. Uhh, shoveling snacks and other crap food into your open pie hole. Diddlin’ your girlfriend. Holding said girlfriend’s head while she diddles you. Idk. But I can think of many other MUCH better uses for my hand than holding my damn phone the entire time I’m on the phone listening to my mom drone on and on about her disgusting medical issues. Ok? That’s all I’m saying. Just connect the fucking thing to your vehicle for the love of god. It’s really not that hard. I promise. If you cant’ figure out how to connect your phone to any car made after like 2014, you legally shouldn’t be allowed out of the house much less behind the wheel of a moving murder weapon.
That’s all.
Those “Select The Squares With A Certain Object” Tests Are Insanely Difficult
Why the hell are those “select the squares with an image of a whatever” tests to make sure you’re not a robot or cyber terrorist or whatever so god damn difficult? Why? And on my phone too?!? Why am I selecting little squares containing various images of busses on a six inch screen at four in the morning? I’m trying to watch a 16 second video of some drunk chicks fighting over a loser they’ll both hate in a few months, does playing detective really need to be a prerequisite? And of course I can never tell if the fucking bus tire is technically in that other square or not. Every single time. You’d need some 100 inch 8k plasma screen tv to see the level of detail needed to pass some of these damn tests. Do you have to make it that close?! Why do I need robot level vision to prove I’m not a fucking robot?
And to the satan worshipers in charge of creating these impossible I spy games, this may come as news to you, but I don’t know all the legal parameters for what constitutes a fucking bus. Ok? Believe it or not I wasn’t the person tasked with that job. So is that long wire part on those weird hippy electric Canadian busses technically a bus or not?! I don’t fucking know. Is there like a kid version of this I can take?
And don’t get me started on the bicycle ones. Oh my god. I’ve made it through entire ‘Where’s Waldo’ books faster than trying to find all the places you assholes hide bikes in those fucking photos. Pretty sure I once failed one of these because I missed the bike hanging in someone’s living room that I was supposed to spot through the telescope pointing at the apartment window. If I was a Navy Seal sniper in my past life I’m sure I would’ve gotten that.
Just make the fucking things easier. Ok? And who cares if a robot or criminal wants to watch what I’m watching. What’s going to happen? They’ll burn up brain cells consuming this shit too? Oh no!
Look just make the shit easier, ok? Thanks.
Floss For Fuck’s Sake
You ever floss like an entire animal out from between your gums? And it reminds you of how fucking gross the people who never floss are? Because that’s immediately the first thing I think of. I might be alone here but my first reaction 100% of the time is “Ew wtf is hiding between THOSE teeth?” What kind of disgusting zoo for Animorphs do THOSE psychopaths have in their mouths? I eat a ham sandwich or god forbid a nice steak and I’m immediately using floss or anything similar to unwedge the carcasses from their hiding places.
Have I ever folded the label from my Burt’s Bees in half and used the edge to dislodge food from between my teeth? Perhaps. That’s the length I’ll go. No distance too far when it comes to keeping my mouth clean. From food debris anyway. And yes, flossing with a chapstick wrapper that I’m sure plays host to a wide variety of germs and bacteria isn’t maybe the most logical thing to do, but you dirty freaks who haven’t wrapped a piece of floss around your disgusting fingers since the towers were standing are some of the most heinous people on earth. So before passing judgement let’s maybe start using some of that free fishing line you’d get had you actually visited a dentist’s office since floss was invented.
All I’m saying is get it together. Floss. Use a water pick. Swish some mouthwash around. Grow your hair longer and use that. Something.
Dirty rotten freaks.
Stop Coming Out With New Candy
I have a question. How in the sugary tufts of hell are they still coming out with new candy? How?! It’s sugar and food coloring. That’s it. How the fuck is every candy aisle that long? Really? I don’t think your average American could even walk the entire length of a candy aisle if they had to. Without at least a little break anyway. I mean seriously. What else is there to make? I think we finished candy. Maybe coming up with ways to make sugar taste even better than we already have isn’t what we need right now. I don’t know if you’ve seen the state of our country’s inhabitants lately, but most of us have the ‘sugar’ part of our basic necessities well covered.
No new candy. Enough. Especially when it’s just variations of old candy. Jolly ranchers but just two different flavors on each jolly rancher? Really? Like half is grape and half is cherry. Wow. As if there was no other possible way to ever eat both a grape and a cherry jolly rancher at the same time before they came out with these. Yeah you know what’s way better than ONE jolly rancher that’s two different flavors? Literally any combination of TWO jolly ranchers that you could possibly come up with. Way better. Doesn’t matter. Two watermelons? Yep. Instantly better.
And nobody wants the gummy version of their favorite candy. Not once have I ever contemplated buying gummy jolly ranchers. Ah yes. Let’s take a bag of a hard candy that lasts me weeks and make it a bag of gummies that won’t make it the entire care ride home. Making the gummy versions of classic candies would be like remaking classic mob movies but leaving out all the violence and sex scenes. Plus when you suck hard candies they turn into gummy candies after a while anyways. You’re getting a 2 for 1 deal on candy. Why the fuck would I want my hard candy pre sucked for the same price? I’ll suck my own jolly ranchers thank you very much.
And how many different shades of the same color can you make a fucking skittle? Are there still subsets of the population lurking out there that skittles still hasn’t properly targeted? I have to imagine most people have zeroed in on a bag they like by now. We all know the drill. You either like the red or purple bag. And then if they have the light blue or green bags, you have a favorite between those two for when you’re going alternates. We all have this down by now. So if you’re going to make me try a whole new bag of skittles for some mystery flavor you had the dimwit summer interns drum up, at least take a chance on it. Surprise me. Make it exciting. Like have one taste like Blake Lively’s asshole, or spicy pomegranate or something. I don’t know. But if I’m going to buy a whole new bag just for that white one you better make it something other than fucking pineapple. Got it?
All I’m trying to say is I think we’re probably good for a while on new candy. Maybe invent a new form of weight loss for the sphere shaped generation of kids we’ve been popping out without seemingly a care in the world. Ok?
Let’s maybe curb the candy for a while. That’s all.
Captain Lee Is The Biggest Hardo On Planet Earth
Any realty tv fan worth their salt knows who Captain Lee is these days. The famous realty star/grizzled yacht captain to the ultra rich has made a name for himself with antics like his own personalized onslaught of hardo quotes, weird ethics lectures, and sayings more fitting of captain that fought pirates in the 1700s than from some dude who shuttles billionaires around from one area in a body of beautiful water to another for exorbitant amounts of money and literally no other purpose whatsoever. And we have sir brave heart on tv like “And I’ll be god damned if I don’t finish the job” after having some surgery or whatever as if he’s heading up the ship responsible for transporting much needed medicine across the arctic sea to remote village people in need. Take it easy dude. Take some time away and get better. No need to rush back. The core of society won’t crumble.
Return Your G*d Damn Mother Fucking Shopping Carts You Lazy Hoes
Did I use the * correctly? Don’t want to offend anyone.
Moving on. As someone who grew up in Wisconsin you don’t often experience parking lots with more discarded shopping carts filling up parking spots than the actual cars they were intended for. Not the case here in Florida however. I don’t know what it is with the fine folk of the sunshine state but taking the extra 12 seconds to drop your cart off at the designated cart spot isn’t something these brain fried sun drunk lazy pieces of sandy shit are apparently capable of doing, and for a plethora of good reasons and excuses I’m sure.
And look, I get it. Returning your cart takes brain cells and the ability to walk more than ten feet without huffing and puffing like you’re trying to blow my house down. But maybe if you big fat I mean bad wolves put the vapes down and picked up a good sleep routine, moving your legs a few more times than the bare minimum wouldn’t be such a burden. Either way it’s disgusting. It really is. So without further ado here are the ten most common types of cart c*nts I’ve observed since moving to Florida:
(In no particular order)
Let’s get these absolute assholes out of the way first: There is a special place in hell for the people who leave their cart directly behind other peoples’ cars. I once witnessed a lady in Fort Lauderdale leave her shopping cart behind my very own car in the parking lot of a Publix and there hasn’t been a week that’s gone by that I don’t think about how bad I wanted her drive home to be. I turned into a witch with a voodoo doll level evil with what I wanted to happen to that god damn sorry excuse of a woman or whatever that horrible hoe was. Like to this day I hope her car exploded on the freeway, but after it already flew off the bridge and was away from anyone else or anything that her exploding car could damage. And before you tell me to calm down or that I’ve gone too far… You witness someone parking their cart directly behind your car and then driving off in their shit box base level Romeo like they’re in some exotic supercar without wanting terrible things to happen to them and THEN you can tell me to calm down. Got it? Good.
The people who leave their carts right next to the fucking cart corals. Would you run a marathon and just stop two feet from the finish line? Now I know you’re probably not aware of what a marathon is, or exercise for that matter. But finishing the job is usually a pretty important part. You’re almost there! We’re all rooting for you!
The morons who use far more effort heaving their cart into the wilderness next to the parking lot than pushing it 20 more feet to its proper destination. Seriously how much pulling power and effort does it take to get a metal shopping cart to some of the places people do? You see them on those steep, pretty tall embankments. You see them up on curbs, dragged through wood chips and left in between bushes and trees like some animal carcass left for the rest of mother nature to use.
The dimwits who leave their carts in the spaces meant for the other four wheeled, much larger carts that are meant for transporting groceries and the people who bought them. But you’re close! Right idea. Just too fucking dumb to stick the landing apparently.
The special people who leave their carts in the legit intersections meant for again, the other much larger four wheeled carts. People have enough trouble figuring out who goes next in those things as it is. I mean how many times do we need to honk and wave and signal and… Just fucking follow the signs and go! Anyway, you can’t throw a shopping cart into the mix with these morons. Come on people.
The people who drop their carts off at the designated trash heap in every far right corner of any Walmart in America because why not. Other lazy assholes did and I’m showing solidarity. I get it.
The dumb shits who try to hand off their cart to the cart train conductor like they don’t already have 120 of them to heard back. You’re so helpful. I’m sure they love having to stop and restart that much momentum in the middle of the lawless demolition derby that is any Florida parking lot. Just walk your lazy ass over to any one of the very close cart corals or whatever the fuck you want to call them and put your cart in there. It really isn’t that difficult. I promise you. I once saw a dude with like .35 legs do it. And you can too.
The people who have no problem using their cart as a battering ram while in the store, yet can’t be bothered to ram it into the stack in the cart coral. You rammed it up my ass in the store without a care in the world, but another shopping cart’s back door is a no go? Got it.
And lastly but certainly not least… The ass hats who put their carts in the cart corals, but in the most obviously wrong way humanly possible. In fact, in ways I didn’t know a human was even possible of coming up with in the first place. How do you parallel park a cart in there? Impressive.
Honorable mentions:
The people who leave their carts in the middle of a store with all of the shit they never bought in them. And it’s never like three items. Of course not. That wouldn’t be rude enough to the teenage store employee who now gets to put away the 73 things you threw in a cart. Although a rare sight and always a mystery, you do see it.
People who put trash on shelves because they can’t be bothered to throw it away or hold onto it until they get to a garbage can. You bought the fucking coffee. Do not leave it on a shelf for christ’s sake. And yes they are always empty. These shit heads are always the cheapest of skates. They would never leave a half drank coffee behind. It’s completely on purpose.
Reviewing Nature Valley’s Savory Sack Sweat Nut Crumb Bars… Or Whatever The Fuck They’re Called
Has anyone else tried a box of this bullshit? Emphasis on the shit part too. Well let me just describe to those of you with normal functioning brains that didn’t allow you to buy this crap in the first place, emphasis on crap, to the best of my picture painting ability, what a box of this so called “savory” smokey bbq chalk bars made from asshole dust tasted like…
Picture poop. Whatever size log you want. Preferably of the human variety. Milk chocolate brown with maybe some corn kernels and other various debris from last night’s summer cookout feast. Use your imagination. Now dry it in the sun for a century. Soak it in dark dehydrated piss, then season it with a mixture of Chinese cinnamon and the salt that accumulates from sweat on the underside of a pig’s nut sack, and you have the exact taste of this absolute ass trash. Emphasis on ass AND trash.
Ok here’s maybe a better reference and something more of us can probably relate to… When I was a child I would, on occasion, eat dog biscuits. Why? I honestly don’t know. They tasted like expired cardboard only drier. Like some weird graham crackers you would find deep in the dark depths of your grandma’s cavernous pantry that she forgot about forever ago from some trip to Italy they took in like 1972. Despite the taste and texture, and probably more weird guilt than anything, I still ate dog biscuits every now and again. Who the hell knows. Apparently they didn’t taste THAT bad.
These however? This is a true “one bite” review. That’s all I could do. They’re that bad. And if you don’t believe me you can always help yourself to a box or pallet of. The shelves seem to always be WELL stocked!
;)
Ladies Who Wear Birthday Sashes Into Adulthood… Let’s Talk
You see it all the time. At any bar, club, resort, theme park, restaurant. Anywhere. It doesn’t matter. You cannot physically go to a place with other people in the United States of America without seeing at least one person of the female spectrum past the age of nine wearing a birthday sash and I need answers. And before we get too far into this sarcastic shit box of a blog that I’m sure will be liked by literally no one… Let’s make sure we don’t mix the fine bachelorette party sash wearing ladies into this mess because you crazy boss bitches have your fun! The sash is your mother fucking thing anyway! You earned it. For starters you had to let a dude fuck you. Ew. And not only that but the same dude’s dick, forever? Uhhh no thank you. You ladies keep your sashes. Personally I’d hang myself with mine if that was my fate, but to each their own. Anyways, just wanted set the record straight on that. Bachelorette party leaders have full justification in wearing the coveted celebration sash. Keep doing yo thang ladies!
Ok back to you crazos. So why? Why is this a thing? I’ve never understood it and I have yet to get an answer that makes any sort of sense to me or anyone else with a logically functioning brain. Why wear a piece of cloth that says a variation of “today my exact age can be evenly divided by 365”? So everyone who sees it gets to guess in their heads how old they think you are? (Jk nobody cares even remotely close to that much so please don’t think they do) In case you or a someone else needs a belt? Or someone breaks their arm and thank god part of your wardrobe included a Civil War era sling? Is that it? You’ve always wanted to be in one of those battle reenactments as a nurse working on her birthday? No? Then why? Why else on earth would anybody go out of their way to wear a fucking sash around themselves like they were just crowned Miss America?
Because it’s fun? Ok. Now we’re getting somewhere. So what’s fun about it? Really. Let’s do some counseling here for those of you ladies that so obviously need it. What’s so fun about wearing a strap that isn’t connected to a bag around your shoulder all day and night like you participated in some costume contest as a half assed mummy? Is it fun to feel the material rub your skin raw? Or keep falling down so you and your friends have to constantly readjust it all night? The extra warmth from the material? What’s so fun about it? Seriously. I’m out of guesses. Oh wait… I think I know. No it couldn’t be… Surely adult women wouldn’t do it for this reason… No. Never.
ATTENTION!!! Yes! That’s it! Attention from total strangers because you’ve been around for another 365 days! Yay!!! Omg!!! Amazing!!! Everybody look at me!!! I came out of my mommy’s vagina on this day 27 years ago!!! And because of that every single person in the vicinity is going to not only know about it, they’re going to see about it, hear about it, and best of all, participate in SINGING to me about it! Yay!!! Isn’t this fun for everyone and not just me!!! Speaking of… Look at me!!! Everybody here! Anyone who can hear or see me! I want, need, and crave your attention! Please!!! Look over here!!! I’m a different number now!!!
All I’m saying is jesus christ ladies who do this, get it together.
P.S. I’m aware that other people do this type of shit too. But lucky for me I’m writing a blog, not reporting the news. Fair and balanced is their problem, not mine.
In Honor Of O.J. Simpson’s Passing… Here are Ten WAYYYYYYYYYY Better O.J.’s...
Orange juice. Obvious first choice here. Where do I begin? Tastes great. Healthy for you. Didn’t get away with murder. What else?
Orange jammies. Like the ones he was supposed to wear for the rest of his life, but…ya know.
Our justice (system). Ok maybe not this one. For obvious reasons.
Old jars. Who doesn’t love a few nice antique mason jars displayed on some half ass installed shelf to help show house guests where you never dust. And until that cheap shelf comes crashing down and one of those Ball jars murders someone…
Oversized jeans. Hideous in my opinion 100% of the time. Like the percent chance O.J. committed murder to anyone with a logical and normally functioning brain. So still better.
Old Jizz. Who doesn’t love finding an old sticky wad of dried up tunnel tadpoles hiding in an old sock. Just think of all the terrible people those could’ve turned into.
Orange Julius. Like orange juice, also doesn’t get away with murder. Oh and tastes even better than its predecessor.
Oh jeez. What every half assed church going midwesterner says instead of a normal adult phrase like… “oh for fucks sake” or “what the fuck” or “what in THE fuck” or “oh fuck” or “oh jesus fucking christ” or “oh jesus fucking christ for fuck’s sakes what the fuck”. Ya know, any of the normal ones that an actual adult uses after either getting shocking news, or seeing a police chase on the tv, or idk seeing someone get away with murder. Just throwing out examples.
Orthodox Jews. Probably against their religion to murder someone in cold blood and then claim your innocence for the rest of time because a wet from blood leather glove doesn’t fit anymore and you can afford to have an entire law office of the best lawyers on your team.
Orenthal James (Simpson). The football player. Not to be confused with O.J. Simpson the cold blooded murderer. Certainly a football player could never do something so heinous.