Monday, January 24, 2011

The Only Nickel Offense I Know is Your Mom's Price For Fellatio

HAHAHAHAHA! Cats don't wear helmets! Classic.

I'm a fan of football in the same way as I am a fan of porn with fisting in it. I know it's out there and given the opportunity, I'll watch it. Oh believe me....I'll watch it. But it just doesn't grab my attention the way it "supposed to" according to the guys who used to give me swirlies in the bathroom in Jr. High but are now bald and fat and drink too much at the reunion and end up slow dancing with that one girl who looks like she spent the last twenty years with an overweight cat sitting on her face the whole time, which may sound like an interesting skin treatment to some, but I just mean her face looks like it's been permanently imprinted with cat asshole.

But back to football... (*chants "Football! Pussy! Beer!". Does victory dance. Trips over Nintendo 64 cables*)

The Pittsburgh Steelers are my favorite team, which to me is roughly as important as someone being my favorite fireman, or my favorite extortion technique. I keep them as such because when you have a penis and someone asks "Who's your favorite team? (*shoulder punch*)" it is advisable to have an answer better than " Team Rocket from Pokemon?". Instead, I can say "Fuckin' Steelers!! Woooo!" and that is generally accepted as a good answer. (I don't mean the "Wooo!" part really.) If I was being honest I would say "The Pittsburgh Steelers, if they are still playing football this year, because I'm really not sure as I haven't had time to watch any games this season because between the napping and the "Truth or Dare" tournament my Dark Elf Wizard does in World of Warcraft© every weekend*, my Sundays are pretty full."

Huddle up, Fellas!

Why the Steelers, you might ask? Well, mind your own business. I maybe don't want you to know they've been my favorite team since 1977 when I watched them win the Superbowl with my Dad, because I want you to think of me as "flat stomach, 6-pack abs" sexy not "silver fox" sexy. It may not seem like an important distinction, but one gets anonymous bjs in the bathroom at sports bars and one gets possible prostate issues and maybe has to take Viagra© sometimes if the lady isn't trying hard enough to be sexy. C'mon ladies! You gotta pay to get into the big show!***

So now The Steelers are in the Super Bowl again, and this is super-inconvenient for me because now I have to pretend extra hard and normally I only like to do that when I have to have sex with your mom, because unlike pretending a lady with an eye-patch and a lisp because of all the missing teeth is a beautiful nymphomaniac spy trying to sleep state secrets out of me, pretending I know what the hell is going on with the Steelers is a lot of work. I have to learn names and stats and the names of plays, just because for the next two weeks every man I know is going to try and talk to me about them. For example, JUST THIS MORNING, I had this conversation:

Work Guy: How 'bout them Steelers, huh?
Me: Fuckin' Steelers!!! Woooo!
WG: Man, they were on fire for the first half!
Me: Yeah! They were awesome! Fuck Yeah! (*feels forehead beginning to sweat*)
WG: That was some (*football term*) that (*football player*) had in the 1st quarter!
Me: I know right? That was crazy. (*feels foot tapping. Can't stop it*)
WG: What's the name of your (*football position*)? He was amazing last night!
Me: Um... B (*starts making a "b" sound because I could have sworn there was a guy whose name started with "b" out there somewhere. Throws up in mouth*)
WG: Isaac Redman! Yeah! He was like (*performs football move*) and (*explosion sound effect*)
Me: I know, right? And then it was all (*duck noise*) and (*pirouette*)!
WG: ...
Me: And then it was like (*flaps arms*) and (*makes "woot woot" noise*)!
WG: Dude. What are you even talking about?
Me: Hey! Where did you get that bagel? (fat guys always fall for food diversions)
WG: Huh? Oh! They're in the breakroom. They have 3 different kinds of cream cheese!

Now I can TALK cream cheese all fucking day.

Kurt: 1, WG: 0

* Not EVERY weekend! Amiright, Klickspar? HAHHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!**

** Made up World of Warcraft© inside joke with non-existent World of Warcraft© friend.

*** "The Big Show" is what I call feeding my cat every morning.

Tuesday, January 18, 2011

Open Letter to the Guy Who Hijacked Yesterday's Post

Dear Genius Beyond His Years,

Thank you so much for your wonderful comment yesterday that enlightened me and totally didn't de-rail my boring post about cats and Hogwarts or whatever. Who even cares! We have the entire population of American Women to discriminate against and that takes time. All these lonely peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and tears as I sit around my cold, dark and empty apartment will have to wait. Let's bash us some women! Bitches ain't shit! Amiright?

Artist's Conception of the boycottamericanwomen web team.
The Boy's are Back in town! Boys are back in Too-oow-oww-owwwn!

The best thing about your blog is all the scientific research and deep-thinking you've put into it. I like when you use numerical data to back up your claims. Like how "over 50 percent of American women are single. The facts speak for themselves- NO ONE WANTS YOU!". I'm sure the other non-single 50% is married to cows or dating trees or something equally PERVERSE. I also like how your opinion that "only about 3-5% of American women are worth marrying. And that's being generous. I expect those numbers to steadily decline over the next decade." is cited as fact. Here's another fact maybe you didn't know: I think you might be a little retarded. And those numbers are showing an upward trend. Also, there was some good data on your site that said "its is true that its a growing trend among the women to act like tryant like cunt flaps". Its is SOOO true. I bet CNN has been tracking that one very closely. We can't have our ladies acting like "tryants" OR "cunt flaps", never mind "tryant cunt flaps".

Just as an outsider's perspective, I totally don't think you sound like a bitter loser no matter what everyone else on the planet is saying. You don't strike me as the type of inbred misogynistic creep who has spent too much time in a cramped trailer filled with ever-growing piles of Bud Light© cans, wallowing in your own self-pity because the woman you loved broke your heart. I'm sure there aren't like 40 cats living with you and that you are the pinnacle of masculine virtue and handsomeness. There is nothing cowardly about airing your petty small-minded grievances on the Internet instead of addressing directly those who hurt you. Don't listen to what everyone is saying. You're a real catch! Keep your chin up. Maybe you could marry a bear. Bears are awesome powerful creatures that remind us of the primal strength and beauty of mother nature. Plus they sleep all winter so you could totally rape them. You seem like the rapin' kind. Or maybe a sea lion.

Run to her. She's waiting.

I want you to know I'm not like a "mangina" or anything who is going to suggest you have a little dick like one of your readers did. I'm sure there is no reason why all your readers sound just like you. What a coincidence. I totally concur that American Women have too much self-respect, and too much identity and that they need to get in touch with their slave status like in the good old days before we let them vote. Maybe, as you suggest, we should find a nice Mexican or Eastern European girl, who totally won't be able to understand how idiotic the things we say are until it's way too late. HAHAHAHA! Tough luck, Ukraine! Guess you should learned more English than "I do!" Amiright? Up top!

You see I've been hurt too, my friend. I too have felt the cruel sting of a bitter, probably secret lesbian American Woman, who doesn't understand that Women's lib is the same as Man Hate. I have too been scorned and cast away by an obese, hairy American who was all aloof and lazy and didn't want to do anything around the house. It wouldn't have been so hard if I didn't love her so. Here's our wedding picture:

Hugs Not Drugs,

Monday, January 17, 2011

Before You Ask, Yes This Is What I've Come Up With After Not Posting In Forever

So things have finally settled down a little bit for me and I can take a break from all the time I've been spending trying to perfect my Hans Gruber from Die Hard impression ("What is it that you say? Yippee Ki-yay-muttafuck.") to write some stuff that will undoubtably tickle your funnybone and touch your heart, or tickle your boner bone and touch your junk, or tickle your "I don't care." bone and touch your hand softly and say "Please keep reading. I know it's laborious. But he's trying REALLY hard."

"Mr. McLane. Are you going to eat ALL those Pop-Tarts©?"

And so I sat down to write and I couldn't think of anything so I decided to meditate a little, and the best way to do that I've found is to crawl back into bed and pull the covers up tight and imagine how cool it would be to be Spider-man only invisible, because think of all the creepy stalker things you could do that no one ever talks about wanting to do, but everybody seriously thinks about it all the time, I'm sure. Feel free to judge because maybe you've seen enough of my fat lady neighbor naked, but I haven't*. Maybe some people don't think of that as meditating but on the other hand, I totally needed that nap after only getting 10 hours of sleep the night before.

And then I decided that while napping is usually the best solution to every problem, it may not help me think of anything to write about because writing about dreams is not quite as interesting as writing about your cat's swollen lymph nodes or infected anal glands. (Which is totally interesting if that's your thing, by the way. No, really.) And besides, a dream is a wish your heart makes and if you tell everyone how you seem to be wishing for a lot of softcore fellatio lately, then those dreams won't come true. (*hums Cinderella song. glances at hand lotion*)

So finally here I am, sitting at the computer, resolve strengthened to NOT write a post about my trip to Universal Studios Orlando that starts out "My first thought as I entered The Wizarding World of Harry Potter was that there must be an awful lot of neglected cats across America right now." and I've also promised myself I won't slap together another long self-indulgent post about my pretend writing process that is self-referential at the end and caps the whole thing off with mindless profanity and yet another kitty Photoshop that I am the only one who ever finds funny.


People from all cultures enjoy Harry Potter, turns out.

* Just like 10 times. I'm totally being deprived just because she finally figured out the whole "Lit room, no curtains at night" thing. Jeez lady! I'm paying rent (sort of) for a reason you know!