Operation Liquid Expulsion: Stages of Having to take a Massive Piss

If only it were that easy, Calvin



I’m back ladies and gentleman with yet another entry about a seemingly mudane
(edit: crude) but astonishingly deep issue that strikes us all when it is most inconvenient: whether it be at the bar when you are hitting out of the park with an attractive member of the opposite sex (highly unlikely) or you are stuck in a long car ride having mistakenly thought you could down 5 Pacific Cooler Capri Suns before the ride (much more likely.) You told yourself you’d only have one, but they are just so damn delicious and there’s only like 2 ounces of fluid in that $5.00 pouch of sugar water. Either way, we’ve all ridden the “Holdin’ It” express. But I’m here to break down this process, as it goes beyond simply one bad decision. Rather, it is a consistent sequence of dumb fuckery that we should know better to engage in at this point, but our stubborn biological circuitry refuses to arrange itself in a more advantageous manner.

Stage 1: Invincibility Complex- This quirk of human personality goes all the way back to when you were a poorly planned idea in the minds of your parents after a drunken night out. Despite all evidence that we will fail at a forthcoming endeavor or that the statistical likelihood of a negative outcome is all but going to occur as a result of our incompetence, we have a built in, “Fuck it, I can do it” switch. I’m guilty of this as much as the next guy. During high school, my friends and I thought chugging various liquids at top speed would result in much machismo and ascension on the social hierarchy. I mean, random dudes on YouTube completed these beverage based tasks to the adoration of millions of viewers and much worship in the comments section. We can totally pull off some awesome hijinks right? Holy shit, were we ever wrong. All we ended up with was a puke stained drive way. And by “we,” I mean my idiot friend who goaded me into trying to pound 5 Gatorades in 2 minutes. He provided the driveway, I the puke. Hope his driveway still smells like shit. Long story short, we think we can do stuff when we really just can’t, but that doesn’t stop us from trying.

Stage 2: Shaky Foundation- This is when the seeds are doubt are growing in your mind, and that tiny, almost indiscernible part of your brain screams at you to cease and desist your current endeavor because this is the grain of rice that tips the scale, or the Coors Light that will have you crossing your legs so hard you injure a testicle just so that you don’t publicly piss your pants. Contrary to the events in Billy Madison, peeing your pants is NOT COOL. You have wear a sodden, pair of pants that reek like all holy hell, much to the displeasure of the general public. At least with a smelly fart you can feign ignorance pretty easily. You piss yourself, no getting away with that. You are wearing a puddle of evidence my friend. But you go ahead and do it anyway. Like order the buffalo chicken pizza telling yourself you won’t get an extra large coke, like saying you won’t eat all the ice cubes at the bottom on your drink, like telling the neighborhood kids at the corner you’d like to have more homemade lemonade for a quarter even though you have to drive all the way up to your friends lake house 2 hours away in LackofSociety, New Hampshire (…that one didn’t come from personal experience…no way…in my defense they were using ENORMOUS kitchen glasses that took out 1/3rd of the pitcher every time. For a quarter. I would have been a fool to pass it up.)

Stage 3: Desperation Bargaining- Either publicly or privately (but most often publicly, much to the chagrin of your current company,) you begin to make every concession in the book, just for the opportunity to void your bladder as quickly as possible. Often pleas to some sort of divine figure are made, but as if the cosmos finds your situation extremely enjoyable, every possible avenue of conventional piss taking are off limits to you. Bathroom at a fast food joint? Every stall is taken, the janitor refuses to clean the floor faster than a glacial pace, or theres a homeless guy taking a nap in the most inconvenient spot possible. Forrest all along the side of the highway? There’s just so happens to be a massive traffic jam where you can’t even begin to stomach the public shame of being seen running for the forest cradling your crotch in front of all these strangers despite the abdominal agony. Out for the night at a bar? The second you make a move for the bathroom you are besieged by a long lost contact, usually a Facebook lurker, that deems it the perfect time to catch up on the meaningless occurrences in their life that have no bearing on you whatsoever. Like I said, the second you build “The Shaky Foundation” the universe will act like you spat in its eye and fuck with you relentlessly.

Stage 4: Transformation into Satan Incarnate- There are a lot of exceptionally angry people out there, like belligerent drunk bro daddy’s at a frat party who want to fight someone the minute they get some beer in them to compensate for their insecurity or every single cab drive in the city of New York. But I’d be hard pressed to find one more irrational or dangerous than a person on the verge of pissing themselves. It’s like the activating that human primal survival instinct but instead of fighting for their very survival, the person is simply trying to preserve their social standing and not be known as the person who pissed themselves that one time. So every good grace and semblance of civility has vanished in the search of one spot where they can relieve themselves in peace. This includes screaming obscenities at people trying to help you, throwing elbows into people impeding your path, or making vicious threats to anyone who would dare halt your search of whatever you happen to deem a bathroom.

The aformentioned past Sean, having past all of the stages listed here, found himself in the ass crack of rural New Hampshire, big line of traffic all trying to get to the lakes region in the summer time. I had convinced myself that I could be civil, that I would find a suitable bathroom and do my business peacefully. Well, I violently pulled into a small parking lot, burst through the doors of a diner, nearly braining a little kid trying to get a gumball. I am sweating balls, doing a miniature tap dance, begging my internal plumbing to hold together. The snide as shit waitress asks…
Bitch: “Can I help you sir?”
Me: “Yes please, I just need to use your bathroom.”
Bitch (smirks )“I’m sorry, paying customers only.”
Me: “Seriously, I really have to pee, I’ll buy something when I come out.”
Bitch (looks over my shoulder) “Table for..how many, ma’am?
At this point I lost it. I usually can hold my composure in public because I don’t enjoy making a scene. But in a very out of character moment, I went berserk. I’m sure I was the talk of that little town for quite some time afterwards, and I maintain that the rage instilled within me was entirely the fault of my bladder, which I’m convinced was rupturing, and a snarky female who enjoyed the small modicum of power she had over me. Paraphrasing since it was a while ago, but this is roughly the message I conveyed
Me: “If you do not let me use your bathroom in the next 10 seconds, I swear to god I will piss my pants right here in the middle of your restaurant. I don’t care, at this point it will be worth it to watch you have to get a mop and wipe up a puddle of my piss. So either you either let me use the bathroom or ruin everyone’s afternoon including yours because all they smelled during their lunch was urine.”

Suffice to say, it was very awkward after that. It was as silent as a funeral procession as I was begrudgingly handed the key to the men’s room. I used the facilities, washed my hands, handed the key back to the extremely agitated waitress, and left. I think she screamed something about me buying something, I don’t know, like hell I was going to help her out. For the record, I pissed all over that toilet seat, so I win.

The moral of the story is this. We are all in a permanent Stage 1 state. But due to the sensitive nature of the universe and how readily that uncomfortable “have to pee” sensation can cripple us, listen to that little voice and don’t build a shaky foundation. We all now know where it leads: to you angrily berating a waitress at a rural New Hampshire diner. You don’t want that.

My Newest Favorite Music Video is "Da Bes"

You want to know what's really insane? That, despite everything you just saw, the slo-mo sword fight, the slow mo fingers in the air, the random cartoon chic on the hood of the car being engulfed by flames, the Sun holding down a righteous beat, the fact that they filmed this in their front yard in plain view of everyone, and the bro straight up crowning himself with a tiara at the end, The BEST part of this video is the description on Youtube:

shiiiiiiii, 3rd track off my album. gonna be a hidden track, you gotta listen to the second track all the way through to get to dis one. took a minute to get this one up cuz SOMEONE ON THIS STREET CALLED THE POLICE ON US, AND TO THAT SOME1 (IF YOU WATCHIN THIS VIDEO, WHY YOU HATIN?) EITHER WAY I JUS SAID F IT, WE AINT GET ALL THE SHOTS WE WANTED, BUT WHATEVER, WE STILL GO HARD.

This somehow tops the actual video itself, which, by about the 1:30 mark I would have found unfathomable, frankly. This is his 3rd ALBUM! And not only that, his albums are in such demand that he's tossing out hidden tracks. Plus, he turned out this absolute masterpiece, despite not getting all the shots they wanted because some hater called the cops on them. If I had to guess that would have been when they were in the final sword fight scene and he was pouring what appeared to be sparkling cider off the roof of his car, presumably for his homie who just perished in a medieval sword fight.

The internet does it again.

PS: If the artist GMCFOSHO happens to read this, I'd love an Alt-Tab theme song.

Childhood Flashbacks: Super Slot Cars

Yea, I know the video is titled super slot cars, and its like a bunch of German engineering whiz's operating this bad larry, but does anyone actually think that track is cooler than some of the shit from the early 90's that I so desperately lobbied my parents to install in our basement? 

Consider my very first electric car track:

Pretty simple right? And not that much different than Klaus and Hans over here are expecting us all to marvel at...No shit you guys can make a fast slot car track, you're adults! I used to put that thing together every day after school for like 6 months, NBD (no big deal), I was EIGHT! I even built one later on (that I sadly can find no trace of on the internet for some reason) that had a gigantic upside down loop with a open gap in the middle of it...that's right the cars flew for a micro second, while upside down...And it's not like I was some child prodigy or anything, just a kid who knew how to snap together pieces of a plastic track.

Color me unimpressed about a bunch of adults creating suped up slot cars, don't even have an upside down loop. You guys probably work in the Porsche manufacturing plant, go make a real car.

PS: there is an absurd amount of slot car videos on youtube starring adults...what the fuck guys, I loved playing with these things as much as the next guy when I was a child, but I grew up. You guys still sucking down Sunny D's and chewing Airheads too?

Translating the Most Difficult Human Language: Woman-Speak

I feel that way often times after my failed attempts at engaging the opposite gender too, Mr. Chan


I apologize for my lengthy hiatus, loyal Alt-Tabbers. I was under the delusion that, upon graduating from college in one of the worst economies since the Great Depression, that I would be showered with job offers simply because I now possess a $160,000 dollar piece of paper that confirms I can bullshit 4 years of academia in which I acquired no transferable skills beyond that of being able to legally drink/purchase alcohol. Well, quite the opposite is true. I have sent out countless job applications, written an obnoxious amount of cover letters, and the only phone call I’ve received is from my mother wondering when I was coming home from a ski trip. The funny thing is, I am still in the “grace period” in my peers/parents eyes. For some arbitrary reason, people seem to have an inordinate amount of sympathy for me when I say I’m looking for jobs. They give me a misty eyed look and usually try to encourage me with some sort of anecdote about persevering, like I am headed off to fight in the gladiator arena, or something like that. In any case, my unemployment status, while not beneficial in the monetary sense, has given me ample time to fire up my messed up mind to come out with more golden blog entries.
I don’t pretend to be a “ladies man” or anything of the sort. It’s not like I’m Raj from the Big Bang Theory and am rendered speechless when they come into my general vicinity, but I’ll openly admit I am cautious at best around members of the opposite sex. Despite this aspect of my personality, I do believe I have some keen insight into the vast complexities of the female lexicon. Everyone knows that, even if guys and girls are both speaking English/Yiddish/Whatever the hell language you want to put here and saying the exact same words, the underlying meaning is completely different and often times is the culprit for the miscommunication between those of us with a Y chromosome and those without. I’ve isolated some of the most frequently heard phrases that women utter, and through pain staking analysis deciphered what the actual meaning behind the words is.

#1.) What she says: “We need to talk”
What she means: “You need to figure out what nonsensical/obscure thing you did to piss me off, and you better have a valid answer quick.”

This one is universally feared by all men, and 99 % of the time it usually ends up with guys making vast relationship concessions and heartfelt (or as close as we can come to a reasonable facsimilie of sincerity) apologies typically without the slightest indication as to what we did or why it is a problem. In the realm of female-dom, passive agressivism is king and men happen to be the court jester that is forced bend to it’s will. Most confusing to me is the “we” in this scenario, since it usually involves a stern faced female with arms crossed waiting for the male to start spilling the beans on whatever transgression has occurred, whether he be guilty or not. That’s not a “we”, that’s “you,” and for what it’s worth, being direct would be more appreciated than the current phrasing that would indicate equality in the forthcoming conversation.
#2.) What she says: “Oh, who is she?”
What she means: “Who is that bitch, where did you meet her, how do you know her, are you having sex with her, why didn’t you tell me about her?!?!?”

In the age of Facebook and smart phones, privacy is a luxury that none of us have anymore. Transparency is the name of the game with regards to peoples social lives. Sadly, this means that there is photographic evidence of every single encounter you have ever made in your life from 2007 on. It doesn’t matter if it happens to be you standing awkwardly next to a female co-worker at a job function or the more damning glassy eyed you grinning ear to ear with an attractive bar patron (or patroness? I don’t know the proper terminology here.) The seemingly innocuous “Who is she” is not a simply request of another females identity. It is your cue to, without panicking or gushing perspiration from every pore in your body, to explain the exact nature of your connection to this person, when you met, how you met, how many words in a day you exchange with them etc. Basically, unless you wish to endure the wrath of a jealous and pissed of lady friend, submit calmly to this veiled interrogation and you will avoid much nonsensical bullshit. I’m not saying to guys to lay down and spinelessly cowering in the corner. I’m saying to cover your ass. You’ll thank me for this sage advice later

#3) What she says “I’ll be ready in five minutes.”
What she means “I’m going to take about 30-40 minutes going through my immensely complicated aesthetic preparation ritual, but god help you if you aren’t ready to go when I am.”

Yet another reason I am extremely glad that I was born a guy. When I tell someone it will take my five minutes to get ready, that’s probably on overstatement. If I clocked myself on a Friday/Saturday night, I’m willing to bet it would take me no longer than three minutes to throw on acceptable looking clothes and applying some sort of deodorant/cologne, assuming I have showered beforehand. Women’s “five minutes” includes a lengthy shower, hair preparation, makeup application, then at least 20 minutes of consulting one another on the optimal combination of apparel for the evening when in all actuality guys will think you look good in almost anything. But the pivotal detail here: Be ready when they are. Just because you understand that they will take much longer than 5 minutes doesn’t mean to let your guard down. If you can strategically fit in a round of Call of Duty or watch the game on TV, power to you. But if the lady friend discovers you dicking around when they have spent the better part of the last hour getting themselves dolled up, be ready for the hell you are about to pay.

Know What Song Gets Me Through The Really Tough Days at Work?

That's right, goddamned Toto and the blessed rains of Africa. I can't explain it, just brings me to a much more mellow  place. I'll just be sitting there doing copious amounts of busy work, singing the same few lines over and over in my head, puts me in a trance. Doesn't matter that I don't even know the actual words, I assume I've got the lines down but I've never really stopped to listen to make sure. Just sitting there, happily singing it to myself (sometimes out loud, but under my breath), maybe with the right lyrics, maybe not, but definitely a lot calmer than I would be if I weren't singing anything in my head at all.

Yikes...I honest to God just looked up the lyrics...I was WAYYYY off. Not because I can't hear or anything, now that I'm listening back I can hear, just never paid much attention I guess and inserted the words I thought fit nicely, and frankly, the real song doesn't even make sense to me...

For instance, the real lyric is: "Gonna take some time to do the things we never have." My lyric: "Gonna appreciate all the things that we had"

Like why is he blessing the rains in Africa? This whole time I thought it was about some underpriveledged kid in Africa, one of those "for the cost of a cup of coffee a day" kids, and the singer was blessing the rains to give him a better life and appreciate the things he never had...Turns out that's not the case, at all. Just something about this guys long distance girlfriend flying in and they're going to do some stuff they've never done before (anal?). 

Ruined the whole song for me. Here I am thinking its a lovely tale of caring and humanity, turns out its just some horny long distance romance couple, and a singer who just liked the sound of the phrase "bless the rains down in Africa." Now I've got to find a whole new song to soothe me.

Forget World Hunger and the On-Going Wars of the World - These Guys Are Tackling the Real Problems

Time to Overhaul the Calendar? - Forget leap years, months with 28 days and your birthday falling on a different day of the week each year. Researchers at Johns Hopkins University in Maryland say they have a better way to mark time: a new calendar in which every year is identical to the one before. Their proposed calendar overhaul — largely unprecedented in the 430 years since Pope Gregory XIII instituted the Gregorian calendar we still use today — would divvy out months and weeks so that every calendar date would always fall on the same day of the week. Christmas, for example, would forever come on a Sunday. "The calendar I'm advocating isn't nearly as accurate" as the Gregorian calendar, said Richard Henry, an astrophysicist at Johns Hopkins who has been pushing for calendar reform for years. "But it's far more convenient." "Everybody has to redo their calendars," Henry said. "For sports schedules, for schools, for every damn thing. It's completely unnecessary." "My favorite reason it shouldn't be done is, 'But my birthday will always be on a Wednesday!'" Henry said. "Of course the answer to that is you can celebrate your birthday whenever you want."

This is a real thing? Brilliant, University educated scholars, wasting their time and federally funded resources, researching ways to overhaul a perfectly good calendar, because they don't like re-printing syllabi and calendar companies can't use the same standard template every year? Are you guys freaking kidding me? Of all the things in the world, this is what you have an issue with.  You must be the laziest people on Earth. You don't have 10 minutes a year to update the dates on your course schedules? You don't think that calendar manufacturers just use a computer template to handle their printing?

And what's this shit with my Birthday falling on a Wednesday permanently? Fuck that noise. And don't give me the crap about "you can celebrate whenever you want." Sure that shit flies when you're like 8 and in the 2nd grade, mid-week birthdays were killer back then. All your classmates celebrate with a song and some cupcakes your mom sent you to school with on Tuesday (your actual birthday), then you have all the popular kids come over the following Saturday to bring you gifts and play a few rounds of tag (maybe hide n' go seek in the dark in your basement, if there's time). It's the best back then. But you can't get away with that now. Imagine me trying to tell my friends and relatives that I'd like them to provide me cake on Wednesday and then come pay homage to me on Saturday with gifts and free drinks at the bar. I'm sure that would go over like a lead balloon.

No I'd say the calendar situation is just fine the way it is...if you really need someone to take care of your syllabi for you just contact me, we'll arrange for paypal payments and I'll update your dates once a semester for something like $25...I'm completely serious.

Speaking of tackling the big issues...

Fox - The weekend came sooner than usual for the tiny South Pacific island nation of Samoa. When the clock struck midnight Thursday, the country skipped over Friday and moved 24 hours ahead -- straight into Saturday, Dec. 31. In June, the Samoan government passed a law to move Samoa west of the international date line, which separates one calendar day from the next and runs roughly north-to-south through the middle of the Pacific Ocean. Under a government decree, all those scheduled to work on the nonexistent Friday will be given full pay for the missed day of labor.

Now that's how you tackle an issue, talk about a progressive government...Just outright eliminate one workday and pay everyone for it anyway...That's my kind of country. Look out Australia, Samoa is moving up the ranks for CW's favorite country in the world, fast (anytime the USA wants to jump in and make this a competitive race, that would be great).

Dear NBA Officials: Please Do Your Job Better

The Devil of All Officials



A Letter to NBA Officials: Please do your Jobs Better
(I'm going to break this down in two mindsets: One mildly polite rational letter that expresses my dissatisfaction with the current standards of officiating, one a normal person who doesn't personally invest himself within the outcome of every single game. Then I will translate this message into my language, which is English that has been massacred into immense levels of profanity and slang. Enjoy)

Dear NBA Officials

It has recently come to my attention, after viewing multiple games of NBA basketball in the 2011-2012 season, that it there are significant issues that need to be addressed. Despite an ultimatum given prior to last season that travelling would be addressed, many players seem to get anywhere from 3-5 steps without dribbling the basketball without a violation being called, even though the rule book explicitly states 2 steps are the maximum allowed. I also find it rather discouraging that certain players seem to garner preferential treatmeant on a consistent basis. It should not matter if the player is a superstar or a bench warmer, consistency in foul calls would be a welcome addition to your officiating repertoire.

I know there has been a great deal of confusion for a number of years concerning what constitutes a block/charge call. I understand this is actually one of the more difficult calls to make in the game, but all we as fans as for is consistency. If you are going to let players slide in under an airborne player and have it be a charge, so be it. Just ensure that is the same call you will make during a pivotal moment in the fourth quarter rather than flip flopping like a politician. The same policy would be much appreciated with regards to touch fouls/handchecks. If the game is proceeding as a normal game should, why should players be penalized for merely making the slightest of contact with a player? However, do feel welcome to change this policy if the game is becoming particularly rough and tumble.

This would have been particularly helpful back in December of 2002, when the Celtics played the Suns and Amare Stoudemire exerted considerable force against Paul Pierce while Mr. Pierce was airborne. No foul was called on the play, and Paul needed significant dental work done following the game. I do not imply a foul call would have prevented his need for a root cannal, but it would have been appreciated, as well as prevented Tommy Heihnson from almost having a brain aneurysm. Attached is a video documenting this non-call (The section of the clip of interest is 0:36-0:42. You may watch the rest if you wish.) In the future, I hope to see an improved performance because I do enjoy the game of basketball, but the current interpretation of the rules on the part of the officials leaves much to be desired.




Sincerely,
A Rational Person

RANT TIME!!!

Dear Incompetent Fucktards

I waited through months of uncertainty, collective bargaining (edit: the owners holding the players balls to the fire to sign a deal that gives these billionaires EVEN MORE money) and the potential heart break of losing a complete season of my professional favorite sport. It looks like my thought process was idealistic to the point of sheer idiocy to think that, in the face of losing an entire season of work, you might step up your game to ensure the compressed season is enjoyable. Holy fuck, was I wrong. You guys, within minutes of the games on Christmas commencing, made me realize how very much I despise the small modicum of power you have but how flagrantly you abuse it. I'm pretty sure NFL players put the ball on the floor more often than NBA players going to the hoop. Fuck me sideways with a lunchbox guys, seriously? You are going to tell me that Derrick Rose can catch the ball at half court and get to the basket with only one dribble? I don't have the scientific date or any fancy calculations, but my eyes and sense of logics can tell me thats definitely bullshit. These guys get TWO steps (yes they are large steps, but the number they are allowed to take doesn't change.) Counting is a skill most of us fucking master by kindergarten, you should probably utilize it once in a while.

Additionally, this "Superstar" treatment horse shit needs to cease and desist immediately. I do not give two fucks if Kevin Durant or Darko Milicic is going to the hoop. If there is enough contact, call a fucking foul. If there isn't, let them play on. I am sick and tired of watching superstars glide through the lane, have a player brush their elbow on the way by while said superstar misses the shot, only to be bailed out by a "oh wait, shit, this guy is important, lets get him to the line." I know David Stern needs as much positive mojo these days as possible given the utter fuck up of the Chris Paul deal, but angering numerous fan bases due to "special treatment" doesn't seem like the optimal way to go about it. Hell, I'll be the first to admit, refs are starting to give these calls to Rajon Rondo due to his falling down or flailing his head back whenever he gets touched. It pisses me off because calling fouls for these acting jobs only reinforces players tendency to repeat this fucking obnoxious behavior. Nut the hell up, and make calls consistent based on what's happening in the game, not what the name on the back of the jersey happens to be.

You know what guys? I'll even throw you a partial bone here, even though you have done absolutely nothing to deserve it. If you are going to suck miserably at your profession without repurcussion, at least BE CONSISTENT. For the love of christ, nothing is more fucking frustrating than letting guys handcheck and bump each other for 3 quarters, 11 minutes and 40 seconds, only to suddenly decide that Darren Collison lightly resting his palm on Deron Willams's wrist deserves a crucial foul call. The same goes with block/charge calls. If you are going to let these guys barrel down the lane like an NFL gunner trying to take off someones head and crucify the defensive player, DO IT EVERYTIME. It's bullshit, but at least it would be bullshit going each way. It's the same as a baseball umpire having a wide or a tight strike zone. If you are calling the outside strike from inning 1 to inning 9, then the onus is on the players to adjust to the way the game is being called, since the playing field is even. But when a strike 2 inches off the plate becomes a ball in the 8th inning with 2 outs and the bases loaded, thats when people get justifiably pissed off.

Lastly, I have a special section devotely solely to spewing a venemous castigation of the SINGLE worst official in any of the major four sports in the country: Joey motherfucking Crawford. Not only does this guy consistently make awful calls at crucial moments (See: Christmas Day, when Marquis Daniels had a beautiful steal when he poked the ball away from Carmelo Anthony down the stretch, but Crawford, since he was cattering to Anthony all fucking game anyway, gave him a foul call because Anthony tripped to appear as if his arm was hit. Simply horrendous) but the man remains to this day resolutely and steadfastly unaccountable for anything he calls. A player cannot so much as ask, "What did i do?" without the angry sweaty bald bastard slapping the player with a technical before he can finish his sentence. It wouldn't matter if the Dalai Lama himself politely asked Crawford the time of day, Joey would justify his callous demeanor and absurd interpretation of basketball rules in same insanely batshit manner: Roar threats and/or feign the loss of your sense of hearing until all dissent has been stifled. Crawford is an asshole, an awful official, and the owner of perhaps the worst call in basketball history, which says alot given that the rest of the fuckwads parading as officials are only slightly less terrible than Crawford. See visual evidence below



Signed
Every Single Basketball Fan

Partial List of Shit I Hate (In No Particular Order)

Yeah, I know it's supposed to be the Holiday Season which arbitrarily means people pretend to be nice to another to solicit better gifts from their peers, but I'm more genuine than that. I'm sarcastic and cynical all year long baby, Christmas isn't stopping this train of negativity. Since I was coming up short on blog topics, and my friends at school were commenting on my remarkable ability to dislike almost everything, I decided to compile a partial list of the facets of existence I find most displeasing to me. I made the bold assertion to them I'd come up with 1000, which probably won't happen because I'll either get bored or run out of ideas and steal other peoples. So, here's part one of shit I hate, enjoy.


1.) B.C The Comic Strip- Caveman humor isn’t fucking funny, neither is their over reliance on puns.
2.) Healthy Choice Soup- Take out the sodium and flavor of regular canned soup and you get this watery piss that is a sorry excuse for a substitute
3.) 100 Calorie Snack Packs- When I want Dorritos, I don’t want 3.5 chips so I can watch my fucking waistline, I want a whole bag because they taste delicious and I don’t give a fuck about my inevitable weight gain
4.) Kobe Bryant- I have a particular distaste both for Lakers players and rapists, so he “wins” twice
5.) Old Nicktoons Not Being in a Basic Cable Package- Give me my fucking childhood memories. You take my money, happiness, and time from me Comcast, can’t you throw me a bone here?
6.) Cold Kitchen Tiles- No one likes starting their day with freezing feet
7.) People who Bitch I Drink Bottled Water- It’s a free fucking country, I am free to let myself be scammed if I so please, the environment be damned.
8.) The Fourth Kind- one of the worst movies I have ever seen, do not watch it, it will make you angry. In no way scary or believable.
9.) “My Kid is an Honor Student” Bumper Stickers- You should also add a “I have poor self image so I need to vicariously live through my child’s accomplishments” sticker as well.
10.) Diet Fads- There is no fucking miracle secret to weight loss, housewives of America. Eat less, move more for a while. It’s that simple.
11.) Christmas Classics Remixed into ‘House’ Music- *shakes head sadly* My generation has fucked up a lot of things, this might be the one that makes me most sad.
12.) Ben Roethlisberger- See #4, just replace “Lakers” with “Steelers”
13.) The New York Yankees- I could cop out and give each one a reason, but they don’t deserve that much space on MY list. Fuck all of them, especially A-Rod.
14.) Waiting in Traffic- Traffic prevents me from doing what I want to be doing, which is NOT waiting in traffic.
15.) Buttered Popcorn Jelly Beans- A vile blight upon the world of candy, it shouldn’t exist.
16.) Nickelback- Chad Kroeger and Co. whining about god knows what while playing the same power chords over and over again is utter garbage. He’s Canadian too, so he sucks even more.
17.) People who add “Lol” at the end of a text message- You didn’t laugh, you put that there for no reason.
18.) People who respond to the one word text message- If I send you a “k” or “word,” our conversation is over. Don’t keep talking to me, I’ve moved onto better things.
19.) Fat Chicks who wear thongs- Gross, leave that garment to the good looking girls
20.) Fat Chicks in general- Gross, please remove yourself from my line of sight
21.) Starbucks Coffee Size System- I get it, you’re trendy and a reasonably upscale coffee place, but on the rare instances that I am even in Starbucks, give me a fucking small coffee when I ask, don’t make me say “tall” asshole.
22.) Having all Vowels in “Words with Friends”- What the fuck am I supposed to do with 2 A’s, 3 E’s, 1 O, and 1 U, besides angrily throw my phone at the couch?
23.) High Beam Tailgaters- We are the only two cars on the road, do you really need to have your Chevy Silverado halfway up my ass with the flood lights on dickhead?
24.) Public School Lunch- A disgusting collecting of whatever the ladies in the kitchen scraped off the floor and threw in the blender that day.
25.) Piss Mist on the Toilet Seat- Im not talkin’ drops of urine you can see and get rid of, even if it sucks. Piss mist is so fine you don’t realize it’s there until you have settled in, then realized your ass cheeks are moist. Awful.
26.) Mosquitos- Can’t even detect them until you hear that high pitched frequency buzz, but by then its too late: you have an itch that never goes away.
27.) Leaving a pen in your pants pocket through the laundry process- I do this all the time, but it doesn’t prevent me from getting pissed off at the machines, even though its my fault.
28.) Abercrombie and Fitch Stores- The clothes are fine, but the stores smell like someone hosed the hole place down in Axe body spray, all while blaring pop music so loud it makes your ears gush blood. Disgusting.
29.) MySpace- Only pedophiles use this anymore right?
30.) Dan Shaughnessy- Made a career off of hating the team’s he is supposed to cover and willingly defiles anyone in the name of sustaining his alcoholic tendencies. Epitome of a hack.
31.) Chicks who get mad when guys look at their exposed cleavage- IT DIDN’T HAPPEN BY ACCIDENT, YOU PUT IT THERE! It’s like telling little kids not to look at animals at the zoo. Bitches.
32.) Little Kids on Xbox Live- Whiny, over emotional little pricks who ruin my happy time by screaming obscenetities about how awesomely they killed me. I take solace knowing these kids are all getting beat up at their respective schools
33.) Never Wears a Shirt Guy- It could be while playing an acoustic while in the quad or walking around the freshman dorm, the message is still the same: “Im a douche, I just don’t know it yet.”
34.) CatDog- Always watched the show, never enjoyed it. Took me until now to realize this show actually sucked.
35.) Conversation with Any Customer Service Representative- Take me, multiply my level of animosity towards humankind/existence by 1000, then give these people a small modicum of power and tell them their job is to assist other people. Result: Everyone loses.
36.) Hairy Backed Men at the Beach- I go to the beach to relax and enjoy myself, not see a sweaty, heart-attack-waiting- to-happen flaunt his self made back carpet off. There is no way you don’t know you have a throw rug on your back.
37.) Parades- These are fun when you are like 7 years old and the loud noises are a welcome distraction since you have no attention span. Now? It’s just a fucking massive traffic issue in the name of watching people walk in an orderly manner under some unifying theme.
38.) Cleaning up Puke- I’ve dealt with a lot of gross substances in my day, but puke is the absolute worst. The consistency makes it impossible to clean up in any effective way and the smell is REPUGNANT, making me want to puke myself.
39.) Cold Water Showers- I have no idea why people even bathed until there was hot water. It feels like icy knives are being shoved through every pore in your body. I’d rather smell like stale sweat and yesterday’s dinner that I spilled on myself than take a cold shower.
40.) People who call you, you miss the call, then they don’t pick up when you call right back- ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?!?! What did you do in the 5 seconds between it being absolutely vital to talk to me and deciding that it wasn’t worth it after all? I hope you stubbed your toe or some other sort of minor inconvenience, because it would make me feel better.

I Refuse to Use Any Website that Doesn't List "United States" First in its Drop Down Box

What the shit is this, right? What kind of website has a country selection page where "United States" isn't the first selection in a drop down box? Does the President know about this?  Are we now, as Americans, second class citizens like all the rest of the world?

I'll be damned if this is how its going to be from here on out, I didn't work hard to be born in the best country in the free world, just have to have to scan through a shmorgasboard of Gambia's, Cape Verde's, Angola's, and Qatar's just to find my country. That shit is for suckers. Suckers that used to be the rest of the world.

If we allow this to happen, whats next?  We can't allow this. It's a slippery slope, one second you're living in the number one country in the world, so beloved that websites everywhere decide your national standing supercedes the laws of Alphabetical order, the next we're placed on an equal playing field with the rest of the world, forced to drive Prius's, gym classes are cancelled forever, and the people behind the "Happy Holiday's" movement are winning.

No, I will not stand for this kind of mockery. Just like we as a country banded together back in 2001 to unilaterally re-brand French Fries, "Freedom Fries," we need to take a stand and boycott any and all websites in the far reaches of the world wide web that choose to dispute our standing as dominant global leaders, and head internet trolls.

Honduras Enacts Motorcycle Law to Cut Down on Drive By Shootings

BBC - The Honduran Congress has voted to ban motorcyclists from riding with passengers in a bid to curb a spate of drive-by killings. The move follows two high-profile murders this week, both blamed on gunmen on motorbikes. During a session held in private because of security fears, legislators approved a decree limiting the number of people allowed on a motorbike to just one. The measure, which will last for six months, was requested by President Porfirio Lobo, whose government is facing rising crime. 

As much as I rag on our country, its stories like this that remind me that in all seriousness, I'd never live anywhere but America (except Australia, you guys are still my favorite). 

For all the social and economical problems this country has had lately, at least we don't worry about things like Motorcycle laws to cut down on drive by killings. The most my parents had to worry about when I was a kid was maybe yelling at a driver for going to fast in the neighborhood or blowing a stop sign, never once did my dad yell something like "Hey make sure that Uzi's safety is on! This is neighborhood!" And for that, I'm thankful. 

PS: Can you imagine getting this to fly up in New Hampshire? You can't even convince those idiots that wearing a helmet on a motorcycle is in their best interest, never mind taking away their right to fire weapons into crowds while riding.

Thoughts, Observations, and Lessons Learned from a Christmas Weekend in New York

Yes, you read that correctly, I willingly, and of my own accord, took time this weekend to travel south to get the Christmas in NYC experience, for the first time. A sort of pilgrimage for east coast Christians who celebrate and worship the commercialization of Christmas, so sort of like the Muslim's and their Hajj to Mecca. And honestly, it was a worthwhile trip, some ups, some downs, but a good experience all in all. Without further ado, a few thoughts, observations, and lessons learned from the weekend:

- The trip centered around Mid-Town, and specifically Rockefeller Center and Times Square. Given the location, I had two people I really wanted to bump into, 1) the Naked Cowboy, and 2) Tina Fey. Sadly, I saw neither. In fact I didn't see anyone famous, at all. I get the feeling the feeling that famous people avoid the tourist trap that is Mid Town like the plague. 

- But that wasn't the biggest disappointment. The biggest disappointment was being informed that TRL is no longer located in Times Square. I'm not even kidding when I say, I was like a kid in a candy-shop when we entered times square, all prepared to be waving and jumping outside of TRL, trying to catch Carson Daly's eye. Even brought a selection of 3 posters so I'd be ready for whoever the guest was (I assumed Britney, Nsync, and Eminem still take turns appearing on the show). Boy was I the goose. I stood outside cheering at what turned out to be some kind of studio for the Lion King show until I was informed that TRL, and Carson Daly, no longer work there. And just like that, 14 year old CW's dreams were shattered. 

- The tree isn't as disappointing as I'd expected it to be. This isn't to say I haven't seen bigger, I have. But there was something something special about the whole scene. I think it was my affinity for Home Alone 2, to be honest. The whole time I was begging my girlfriend to help me play out the end scene where Kevin is reunited with his mother, sadly we couldn't get the crowd to clear out so I could relive this magical moment (ps, watch that clip, its the only one I could find, and I'm pretty sure the guy bootlegging it is crying at the end, its touching and hilarious). 

- I still haven't been to the Empire State building, I was literally two blocks away at one point, didn't make it. This is killing me inside. I'm obsessed with that building, if my readers were my pyschologist right now, you'd be telling me I'm avoiding it because I'm afraid it can't live up to my expectations, and you'd be right. That's right folks, I'm afraid a building won't live up to my expectations.

- Pretty sure our group was in the background shot of the opening scene of a porn. We were in some trendy bar/social club, they were filming something in the lounge, it started out with some platinum blonde girl with a painted on white dress chatting it up with some brunette chick, and then all of a sudden a guy appeared and schmoozed with the two of them, before leaving to go up to the hotel. The camera men gave some vague answer about it being some Bravo reality show, but it wasn't Millionaire matchmaker and it wasn't any of the real housewives, so I think he was just covering. 

- NYC Cabs SUCK. Worse than Boston. That's a fact. First of all, there's 1000's of them, and getting one to stop is impossible. Secondly, when they do stop, they play every trick in the book. One guy told me he didn't know how to get to Brooklyn, he legit said "do you take the Brooklyn Bridge?" I legit said, "are you fucking kidding me?" and got out. Another asked if I had cash because his meter wasn't working, I told him I see it and its working, he said it doesn't matter, I told him to take a hike. The third, and final one, made it from Mid Town to just over the Brooklyn bridge in about 7 minutes. I was in the front seat fearing for my life the entire ride. 

- The MTA < the MBTA, and that's a fact. They don't have electric boards or loudspeaker announcements at the stations! Its unbelievable. We stood from 1 AM- 2AM waiting for a train to arrive, that was never coming because it wasn't running that night, only the only way you'd know that is if you looked at the 11x11 piece of paper all the way back up stairs, announcing the stoppage in service that night. And it's not like we were the only ones, there was like 25 of us just waiting. Not that the sassy black woman in the booth helped us at all. I get that sitting in a bullet proof booth for the 12 AM- 7 AM shift may not have been your career ambition, but how about not letting 20 people all go down and wait for a FUCKING HOUR in the middle of the night, for a train that is not coming.  I never thought I'd miss the MBTA.

- You probably shouldn't buy tickets to some comedy show from some guy who looks borderline homeless on the street. The tickets were real, but 95% of the show I was cringing instead of laughing. The first 3 guys just made jokes about how they're in their mid 30's and how Pot has ruined their lives. Great, thanks for depressing the fuck out of me. The drink we ordered was made with straight rubbing alcohol, and at one point some French guy got on stage, and his whole act was, I shit you not, saying things like "I'll Tea Bag You So HARD (in french accent)." Traumatizing.

- A 38oz. steak is exactly as big as it sounds. It's also delicious. 

-Anyone that works in an office at Times Square that manages to get anything, is a borderline miracle worker. You'd absolutely find me staring out the window and watching commercials on those brilliant HDTV's all day. 

- Getting out of NYC is still the worst driving experience one can have. It took an hour to exit the city limits, an hour. There is a bridge for just about every exit plan, except for those of us looking to get the hell out of New York and through Connecticut. Build another Bridge and reserve it for Massachusetts drivers only. Please.

Chris Paul Traded to the Lak….Wait, NBA Blocks Trade Under New “David Stern Can do Whatever the Fuck he Wants” Clause

Believe me CP3, I don't get it either.

Never fear Alt Tabbers, even without our valiant leader CW's sarcastic take on the daily news on this Friday, I am here to provide at least some distraction from your day in the form of another sports rant, my specialty. Yesterday night, ESPN Breaking news ticker at the bottom of the screen (“breaking news” in ESPN speak usually just means a relevant news tidbit that isn’t about the Heat/ Undefeated Packers/ Brett Favre) sent shockwaves through the entire league, with Chris Paul involved a three team deal sending him to the Celtics arch nemesis, the Lakers, with the writing on the wall pretty evident for additional moves to be made to bring in Dwight Howard. The players involved were either very good or solid and from my perspective, seemed like a reasonable deal for each team with an appropriate degree of positives and negatives. Paul goes to the Lakers to pair his superios point guard abilities with the last of what’s in the tank for Kobe Bryant, Pau Gasol goes to the Rockets as essentially Yao Ming’s replacement on a smaller scale, and New Orleans nets a reasonably good haul of talent in Luis Scola (solid scorer and rebounder), Kevin Martin (lethal scorer when healthy) Lamar Odom (despite my dislike for him on many levels, an immensely versatile power forward) and Goran Dragic (young point guard with ability), especially considering Paul had drastically reduced the Hornets trade leverage by publicly stating he would not sign an extension with the team. Yet each team had a degree of risk as well, with the Lakers losing much of their interior defense and resting their hopes on Andrew “Made of Glass” Bynum staying healthy, the Rockets losing a great role player and depth in Scola, and New Orleans has to bring in solid players at the expense of the face of their franchise. All in all, a reasonable trade, right? Enter David “God Complex” Stern (In case you didn’t notice, I really enjoy giving people fake middle names that accentuate either their positive or (mostly) negative attributes.

Yet almost as soon as this deal was consummated, it was just as quickly annihilated by the NBA for “basketball reasons” What in the hell kind of cop of horse shit excuse is that? But hey, if you don’t have a valid foundation for your actions, vague terminology is the way to go. If anything, I would have thought Stern was giggling like a school girl as Paul was shipped to one of the biggest basketball markets in the country, then snuck into Otis Smith’s house with a revolver pressed to his head and demanded that he ship Howard out West for some type of Andrew Bynum/Steve Blake/Other garbage player that meets the salary requirements for a trade. Instead, Stern pulled a complete (to my utter surprise) 180 on this one, despite the precedent of superstars, after bitching or pining to be moved, being traded for quality players just last season (The Deron Williams/Carmelo Anthony deals both netted the superstars former teams effective talent or potential big players, like Danilo Gallinari, Wilson Chandler, and Raymond Felton for the Nuggets and Derrick Favors, Devin Harris and TWO first round picks for the Jazz.)

Stern’s new crusade is apparently to create a more even playing field for all teams in the league and reverse the trend of large market teams dominating year in and year out (because this doesn’t happen in football and baseball…oh wait, it does) due to the formation of “superteams.” In nixing the deal, Stern has apparently sent the absurd message to the ENTIRE LEAGUE that no matter how well you have put together your team, however financially responsible you have been in constructing player contracts, if he does not like a particular transaction, he can arbitrarily rule it null and void. This an egregious policy that rivals current NFL contractual rules that allow agreements to be voided when a franchise decides a player isn’t playing up to their value. Now every single NBA franchise has to walk on eggshells when conducting any trade or signing a player, due to the threat of the Almighty Stern imposing his divine will and nullifying a team’s efforts to improve its ability to compete. I don’t buy his “we need to make the league more fair” argument for a second. Look no further than the SAN ANTONIO SPURS, who drafted well, scouted their players, assembled a roster through smarts and savvy despite not being in a “major” market. Oklahoma City is the current poster child of a small market team also succeeding in the current landscape among the Goliaths of the league. Small market teams, though no graced with the resources of larger markets, shouldn’t need to be catered to be the powers of the league to be competitive. They need to be shrewd, make smart choices, and not destroy themselves with crippling contracts (Example: Atlanta Hawks giving Joe Johnson 120 million dollars over 6 years will just reek of regret in a few years, even if doesn’t already)

This could very well be one of the worst decisions made by a commissioner of a professional sport in recent history. I say that without the slightest trace of sarcasm or hyperbole. Stern has demonstrated, with one single act of all encompassing self interested power, that he considers himself larger than the league he is supposed to be supporting the best interests of. And you know what? It is a damned shame that the league I love has had this immense shadow cast over it due to the overzealous emotional reaction of singularly powerful individual.

A Tribute to College: A Four Year Blur of Everything Good

College taught me a few things, but "alcohol consumption is fun" was the most vital lesson I ever learned

As my commander in chief so kindly pointed out (edit: bluntly stated) my life is about to undergo a significant transformation. In only a few short hours, gone will be the days of playing Xbox with friends until the wee hours of the night fueled by nothing more than competitive drive to kill more people in Call of Duty and unhealthy levels of caffeine. No longer will I able to skip a class that I deem not important enough to my daily routine, since doing this in the real world apparently results in more severe repercussions beyond not learning whatever useless shit a professor slapped onto a hastily created PowerPoint presentation.

I had a rather cozy view of life beyond college, that I would be able to maintain my recklessly irresponsible lifestyle while maintaining a job that didn't suck the very soul from my body on a daily basis, but as CW aptly points out, as well as the rest of the 20 somethings I know who are festering in a cubicle based, Microsoft Outlook powered prison, this is idealistic to the point of insanity. Very shortly, I will be forced to complete tasks I don't want to do for people I don't like at a speed that is too fast for me. This goes against everything I was taught over the past 4 years, which was that you can do your work in whatever fashion you deemed most acceptable and if you choose to give a fuck about it, good for you. Hell, cracking a beer (or 10) while doing schoolwork wasn't just possible, it was openly encouraged.

Despite the inevitable stranglehold corporate America will have over every facet of my well being, and a blog entry dedicated to how much my life will blow in just a few short weeks/months (time span depends on my ability/luck in finding a real job) I would rather reflect in a positive manner on the good times that college gave me, because as I was told by my elders years ago, these most certainly were the greatest years of my life. I was able to lovingly adopt intramural sports as my competitive outlet, with each game pretending I was playing in a significant sports arena. Flag football became my proverbial situation for pretending I was in the NFL, juking and spinning like Adrian Peterson, only if AP were a white undergrad clumsily attempting athletic manuevers on teams fratboys and former high school "has beens".

People told me the "flexibility" of class schedules in college left you the time to pursue extra curricular activities that would help you in real life. "Flexibility" translated in Sean's language, was "doing whatever the fuck I felt like doing on a given day" 8 A.M. class I actually woke up for and went to? I rewarded myself with a nap. All those school clubs and organizations out in the quad asking me to do useful things for the school? Nah, I'd rather play pick up ball at the gym or snipe the evil Covenant bastards trying to invade Earth in Halo. Mid term tomorrow? Perfect time for a dorm floor war with Axe Body spray, and yes, this most definitely resulted in both the floor smelling like a high school locker room as well as our RA getting monumentally pissed off at everyone involved.

But most importantly, I learned about the immense social bonding power of a substance we all affectionately know as "alcohol." There was no better way to make friends or have a great time than with any variety of beverages. I learned how to play Beirut (and yes, its called fucking beirut. Beer Pong is played with paddles, the movie Beerfest proves this definitively. Jersey kids don't get this fact, and my school is infected with too many of them.) Alcohol was the great X factor that is the hallmark of a college experience. As a result of it, I have my fair share of stories that result in immense triumph and terrible, humiliating shame and you know what? It was all worth it, every single drunken, procrastinating, time wasting, academic slacking second I spent in college. If the rest of my life is going to be a mundane drag through monotonous adult tasks, then I will take solace in the fact that I had 4 awesome years of subsidized "higher education" to have the time of my life. Thank you college, You might be gone from my life, but I will never forget you. Well, I do forget significant portions of most weekends due to the over consumption of an aforementioned substance, but you get the point.

Ultimate Holiday Showdown- Thanksgiving vs. Christmas, Two holidays Enter, One leaves the Victo

Battle of the Ages: Who gain the crown of "Best Holiday?"

It truly is a fortunate situation that the last few months every year have set up for us everday normal folk. While the overall quality of the weather gets exponentially shittier and every female puts away every partially revealing piece of clothing to be replaced with Ugs and 15 layers of jackets and scarves, we are rewarded with two of the greatest holidays in the known universe: Thanksgiving and Christmas. Both of these events are first world celebrations of absolutely shameless overindulgence in everything that is good and joy-inducing in this life: material possessions, comfort food, and outright laziness on some arbitrary notion that we have accomplished deeds significant enough to warrant these treasures. However, each of these holidays has a number of dimensions that need to be considered, and after all is said and done, we will find out one of these holidays is actually superior to the other. Since I am in the business of solving these difficult issues, let’s hope right to it and see who wins this matchup based on our “Holiday Scorecard,” (But unlike the cards used in Manny Pacquaio’s most recent fight, this isn’t to facilitate the world’s biggest gambling event of all time, it’s just to prove a point.”

Overall Atmosphere:

Thanksgiving- Sadly, not much going with regards to a “feel” for this holiday. You obviously have maybe a few days off from work, and Thanksgiving serves as a wonderful trump card of getting out of your professional obligations. As a kid, it was fun to trace your hand and make a paper turkey or a pilgrim hat during art class (or in my case, ignore what I was supposed to be doing so I could dump Elmers glue all over my hands and peel it off once it dried. No one who did this can deny it was fun as hell, both for the activity itself and the anger induced brain aneurysm it gave the teacher.) But beyond cooking/raiding the supermarket for every piece of trans fat laden comfort food you can find, there’s a dearth of Thanksgiving atmosphere.

Christmas- Hands down winner on this front. You got the absolute works going here: sparkly decorations bedecking every building, the fresh smell of pine emanating from every corner of society, and the absolute auditory orgasm that is Christmas Music. Seriously, a straight month of absolute classic holiday tunes and catchy jingle bell laden music that makes even despondent murderous sociopaths feel warm and fuzzy inside (or maybe slightly less murderous. I wouldn’t know, I’m just a sarcastic asshole, not a fully blown sociopath.) Not to mention all the fantastic movies that took your imagination on a magical ride when you were a child. Even watching them now, like the perfect Christmas movie Elf, gives feel good, nostalgic vibes up the wazoo. Watching the snowflakes flutter gently outside while you sip hot cocoa listening to “Let it snow?” That’s as good as it fucking gets, you could make a postcard out of that scene, its truly that awesome.

Score- Christmas: 1 Thanksgiving: 0

Preparatory Work:

Thanksgiving- Since the ultimate theme of Thanksgiving is “Laziness/Gorge your face off until you want to Puke,” the preparatory work here is minimal to moderate at best. You get the opportunity to buy the tastiest treats that you don’t indulge in regularly if you have no inclination to do cooking of any sort. But if you are the ambitious type, you get to put on your best cooking face and bust out that perfect recipe you got from Grandma for mouth watering stuffing, sumptuous mashed potatoes, or that absolutely perfectly marinated, hormonally enhanced Turkey. After all that is out of the way, the rest you have to do is go into your closet and intentionally wear an outfit that is a couple sizes too big because after the 8 helpings of everything you inhale through your gullet, you will most certainly need the extra room.

Point goes to Thanksgiving on this one for having an amount of work that matches the theme of the holiday itself.

Christmas- As much fun as Christmas can be, the amount of work that needs to be put into this event is an absolute bitch. You have a billion presents to buy for people, some because you want to and others because of dumb fucking social/family obligations that make no sense to you (Just because my second cousin gets me something I hate every year DOES NOT mean I want to give him a DAMN THING), which often takes place in an angry mob pillaging (edit: shopping) every single mall in existence and drains your bank account in the process. Setting up lights outside has to be one of the most miserable experiences on the planet. Every single year without fail, even if they are brand fucking new, something will go wrong with them. Certain lights won’t work, it will set itself to “Twinkle” mode when you just want “Regular” with no way of switching them, or they will be tangled into a horrific knot ridden pile of misery and anger that takes every ounce of patience and finger dexterity to sort out. Throw in the additional suckitude of shoveling, finding a Christmas tree that isn’t fucked in some way (either structurally or because the owner of the tree farm realizes, once a year, he can price gouge the ever loving fuck out of everyone) and this dimension is a big time negative for Christmas.

Score: Christmas: 1 Thanksgiving: 1

The Day’s Events/ Post Game Wrap Up

Thanksgiving/Christmas- This is where it gets difficult, since there is a significant amount of overlap in what revelry is engaged in on both occasions, as well as this being the tiebreaker, so we’ll break both holidays down in this section. Both have sumptuous spreads of food with all manner of goodies ready for reckless consumption, though Christmas can often include a spiral ham with a heavy dosage of candy for good measure. Additionally, you get all kinds of material possessions (American dream, right? Having way more shit than you actually need) on Christmas morning which is just plain fantastic. However, after eating your face off on Thanksgiving, you have the god given right to watch football until you pass out into a food induced coma. No pretending you like the shitty gifts that your in-laws gave you, zero obligation to engage in any type of pointless banter. Just watch the most American sport to exist until you want to go to sleep. Then, Thanksgiving always gives you gifts that you will like: leftovers. All the delectable treats you wanted to eat, but couldn’t fit because your stomach was at the point of rupturing, YOU CAN SAVE FOR LATER. Your only duty following Thanksgiving is to ensure that you eat even more. Christmas requires an extensive amount of un-decorating everything after the fact and you have to find a diplomatic way of asking for the receipts for the awful gifts you didn’t want, instead of outright telling the person what they got you sucked. Return lines at retail outlets post Christmas are almost as bad as buying the shit in the first place because you know for a fact everyone is in that miserably long line for the sole reason of exchanging their unwanted crap for something useful to them. This one comes down to the wire, but I’m declaring by a slim margin Thanksgiving is the winner by technical knockout, despite a valiant effort by Christmas.

FINAL SCORE: Thanksgiving: 2 Christmas: 1

P.S. Since I was way too complimentary for most of this piece, I need something excessively negative to go out on, so here it is. Valentine’s Day is the worst fucking holiday of all time. It’s not even a holiday, it’s a made up bullshit excuse for people to increase the bottom line of Hallmark/florist/chocolate companies, while every couple everywhere instantly goes into panic mode because everyone’s notion of what is appropriate on that day is different. Fuck Valentines Day.

The Age Old Question: If You Could Have One Super Power, Which Would You Choose?

There are a lot of deep, philosophically complex questions we as human beings like to ask ourselves over the course of our lifetimes: what is our purpose here on earth, how do we solve current world problems, why does Ben Stiller only star in shitty movies ever since Meet the Parents. These are the questions that are pondered again and again, but no suitable answer ever emerges. However, there is one (in this bloggers opinion) issue that should be put to rest once and for all. We have all seen the myriad of Marvel movies over the past decade, so I put the tantalizing inquiry out there: Which super power would you most like to have? I’ll put forth some of the main options and debate pros/cons of each one. I’m not going to do ridiculously obscure or fucked up powers, like the ability to alter the fabric of reality or create alternate dimensions. It’s too trippy for this blog and frankly, the old standbys are the old standbys for a reason: everyone likes them. Im also limiting it strictly to super powers, not magical abilities, because I already know for a fact every person alive would be a wizard/witch like in Harry Potter in 2 seconds flat.

1.) Flight

As every chick Superman ever rescued knows, one of the quickest ways to get a girl ready hop in the sack is having the ability to fly. Going on a date to the movies? Hoist your girl up by the waist and soar the skies to the cinema. 100 bucks says she’s flinging her bra off before you even touch down in the parking lot. This would also be one of the most pragmatic abilities you could possibly have. No need for a car, insurance, increasingly expensive oil. That would leave a whole lot more cheddar in your bank account for more important things, like beer…and more beer. Then again, flying could get mighty chilly at those high altitudes and competing with those giant metal contraptions called planes could lead to some substantial injuries. Flying definitely has the WOW factor, but the novelty would wear off quickly as far as I’m concerned.

2.) Other-Worldly Speed

I’m not talking Usain Bolt speed (even though that would be freeking awesome, because he’s a straight human blur) This is like the little kid from The Incredibles type speed, like you can move so far that you can run across bodies of water and shit. You could be the worlds best thief ever. The second you laid your greedy little eyes on whatever tickled your fancy (money, clothes, illicit drugs) you would be in and out before your adversary even had time to blink. Even if you are some sort of moral paragon (AKA: sadly misguided asshat,) you could go anywhere the hell you wanted and it wouldn’t take any time at all. Just pack your shit and book it. Then again, if you ever hit any type of obstruction going at these top speeds, that would hurt like an absolute mother fucker. Like a newspaper stand or something in the city? What an awful way that would be to go out of life on. Even with the tantalizing cleptomania with damn near complete impunity from the law that this power would allow you, I’ll have to pass based on massive risk potential.

3.) Super-Human Strength

Essentially you become the Incredible Hulk, only without the whole “turning green, ripping your current outfit to shreds, and developing a severe anger problem” thing. This is a pretty tantalizing prospect, primarily because I’ve never been particularly big and the desire to hit people bigger than me has reached breaking point levels on numerous occasions. But even besides the obvious advantage you would have in any barfight/physical altercation, imagine the massive headaches you could avoid with a Herculean physique. Oh, the car battery died on you, forcing you onto the side of the highway in the dead of night? Fuck waiting two hours for Triple A to show up (P.S. This is my sidenote to vent and emphatically state Triple A waiting times are complete bullshit, take whatever time they give you on the phone and multiply by three. Great customer service, dickheads) You could just hoist that pile of shit Honda Civic you never should have bought and haul it right on home without breaking a sweat. However, this ability might lead to awkward questions during leisure time activities, like if you are playing an innocent game of catch with someone and all of a sudden you put the baseball right through your friends sternum. No amount of super human strength is saving you from that emergency room visit. This guy passes on the strength, though with some difficulty.

4.) Invisibility

For me, this is an absolute no doubter. Becoming invisible is the absolute best power you could possibly have. I mean, besides the power of “being a ridiculously amazingly super awesome blog writer,” but seeing as I already have that power, I need to choose a different one for the sake of avoiding redundancy. As if Harry Potter didn’t visibly demonstrate this in the first 7 books/ movies, as long as you don’t fuck up royally (like making a shit load of noise like he did) you can go anywhere and do ANYTHING you want. Basically like having the perks of super speed without the occupational hazard. Shoplifting? Easy as pie. Sneaking into a celebrities dressing room to see who they are nailing that night? Piece of cake (BOOM, two baked good references in one paragraph, didn’t think it possible, did you reader?) I think one of my favorite tasks with this power would be to sneak into my friends apartments/houses the night they happen to be watching a scary movie, and immediately after a shocking moment in the film, just wildly knock shit over in another room while making demonic noises. This practical joke is funny just by itself, but if you were invisible, absolutely no way in hell your friends get any sleep that night, as well as you just made them believe in paranormal bullshit that doesn’t exist for the rest of their pathetic lives. That’s what super powers are about to me. Not this saving the world stuff, that’s too much work. Super powers are about making life incredibly easy or having unlimited ability to fuck with people. For my money, it’s got to be going having invisibility.

Strippers Making $2k a Night, Burger Flippers Making $15 an Hour, Do the Occupiers Know about North Dakota?

WILLISTON, N.D. (CNNMoney) -- Forget Vegas. Strippers are discovering they can make ten times as much dancing in the oil boomtown of Williston, N.D. Thousands of men have come here seeking high-paying jobs working for the oil companies. And, at the end of the day (or four or five days when they're working on a rig), many of them are looking for some female companionship at one of the town's two strip club's, Whispers or Heartbreakers. Word has gotten out about just how much money can be made dancing in Williston's strip clubs. The money is phenomenal, but the competition is stiff. Whispers has received applications from exotic dancers in Hawaii, Alaska, even the Czech Republic and Germany, said Melissa Slapnicka, the co-owner of the club. She's been bombarded with so many applications that she only gives each dancer a week to try out. If they don't work out, they don't come back, she said. At first, the nightly tips were nothing special, but over the past year -- thanks to the thousands of men who have flocked here and landed high-paying jobs -- she has been making $2,000 to $3,000 a night, about the same amount she would have earned in an entire week in Vegas.

I mean, do I need to move out to North Dakota? I've been reading about this place for a couple of weeks now and every story is more incredible than the last...Manual laborers raking $100k plus, burger flippers making $15 an hour, people buying trailer homes, towing them out there, and then renting them out for 1500-2k a month, and now strippers just rolling in more cash than they can make in Vegas or selling themselves in the sex trade in the Czech Republic.  North Dakota is officially the bizarro world.

It's to the point where I'm wondering if its worth it to take out a loan, buy two trailers, move there and rent one out and just blog from the other one. Has to be more profitable than what I'm doing now, no?

And has anyone told the Occupiers about this? That decent paying jobs are available if they're not to stubborn to put down their picket sign and move out of their comfort zone? I know, I know, that overpriced Liberal Arts degree you got at BC wasn't supposed to lead to a life of manual labor, stripping, or burger flipping, but where else are you going to make that kinda money?

Oh, whats that? You'd rather camp out in a tent and wait for someone to just make up a job you're qualified for that's closer to home and more suited to your interests? My bad, carry on.

People You Meet at the Gym...But Wish You Hadn't

Kind of self explanatory

As a college aged male, I find that an effective method of procrastination with regards to my academic pursuits while also fulfilling a gender norm is going to exercise at the on campus gym.  You know the drill; lift some weights, do a little cardio, shower off and pat yourself on the back for getting yourself into shape despite living in a country where rampant cellulite and 50 plus inch waist lines are becoming the status quo.  As satisfying as it is to pump some iron and feel like a boss in the process, there are types of people who frequent this establishment that make the experience border on intolerable at times.  I call out these assholes below:

Meathead Brodaddy

King of All Meathead Brodaddy's

This species of gym dwelling asshole will typically be accompanied by a chubby friend to ensure without a doubt he looks better by comparison when lifting (Say that part in a Steve Irwin voice, it's alot of fun. RIP Croc Hunter.)  Further indicating marks of this former jock desperate to maintain his ego are barbed wire bicep tattoos, shin high lacrosse socks, and a varsity sport shirt turned into a cutoff shirt from at least 5 years ago.  They seem to think everyone in the general vicinity finds them supportive when they bellow, “ONE MO’ SET BRO, YOU FUCKIN’ GOT THIS, LETS GO!!! YEAHHH!!!!”  Earth to dumbfuck:  Everyone else is simply trying to exercise in peace, not humor you by reliving your “glory” days.  Oh, and don’t think I didn’t notice you brought along the Pillsbury Doughboy for a spotter.  I bet your oversized Hummer is sitting in the parking lot as further evidence of your need to overcompensate your steroidically shrunken balls.

Earthquake Weight Drop Douche

I hope it lands on your toes

This is a sub-group of the Meathead Brodaddy since they share many of the same motivations, yet they seem to be utterly harmless since they aren’t nearly as distinctly loud/fucking obnoxious.  They are almost as bad as their counterpart, however, since they find more subtle, passive aggressive ways to try to demonstrate their physical superiority to everyone around.  Typically this is accomplished by loading up a barbell with absurd amounts of weight, getting halfway through one set with a look of intense pain on their face, then letting it SLAM into the floor, causing a fucking tremor to shake the foundation of the gym and distracting everyone else.  We get it, asshole.  You can lift heavy things up, but unlike thefunny Eastern European Guy on the Planet Fitness Ads, you lack the common courtesy/cognitive ability to put them down without putting holes in the floor.

Mobile Sweat Puddles

Towel's aren't just for decoration: USE ONE, DICK

Remember Pig Pen from Charlie Brown who was the lovable little guy with the eternal dust cloud swarming around him?  This person is exactly the same, except that he’s a complete pain in the ass and instead of a cartoon cloud of dirt circulating around his person, there is instead a DELUGE of sweat soaking his skin and clothes.  You could literally be on the other side of the gym and detect this foul creatures sour stench because its just that potent.  Oh, and don’t even dream of using a machine after he does.  Not only will he slather his disgusting form all over every surface inch, his complete obliviousness his disgusting state prevents his radar from alerting him to the fact he should WIPE DOWN after finishing.  Whatever unfortunate device ran into his warpath might as well have a haz-mat team come in and quarantine the poor exercise equipment, since it is essentially dead to everyone who wanted to use it.

Condescending Form Coaches

Maybe I am, but you are an asshole.  I believe I win.

There are many times in life when we need to be corrected because we fucked up at something:  the girlfriend pointing out you left the seat up again, a police officer explaining to a drunken undergrad why it is unacceptable to instruct a member of law enforcement to, “Fuck off” (that example wasn’t from personal experience…totally hypothetical…yeah…)  But when at the gym, many of us use it as a type of sanctuary, a peaceful temporary respite. Whatever our motivations or goals for being at the gym, when we are there, we go because it is separate from our other realms of life where we have many demands and responsibilities.  This is the very last place where I want a stranger to walk up to me and say, “Hey man, you totally weren’t doing those squats right. See, what you wanna do is keep your backside completely underneath you (insert further condescending bullshit instructions here.)  Listen, fuckwad.  If I had wanted instruction on how to do an exercise, I would have asked one of the professionals who work here how to do it, not some random dipshit who felt the need to be superior for no reason.  Now what YOU “wanna do” is get out of my face before I use my “improper” fighting form to break your nose.

Primal Roar Lifters

When you are the King of Spartans, yelling is allowed.  When lifting weights? Shut the fuck up

Listen, when you are on that last rep of an exercise and you are running on fumes, I understand how badly that burn can feel and a gasp/slight grunt is a useful mechanism for fighting the pain you just endured.  But for the love of everything that’s holy, you do not need to roar like Mel Gibsonin Braveheart charging into theBattle of Stirling (the clip is way too long since my previous point is made in the first 30-45 seconds, but Braveheart is fucking awesome, so more of it can’t hurt) every FUCKING time you complete a rep.  You knew what you were getting into when you purposely chose weights to lift that were way out of your league.  Stop being an attention seeking bitch and work out in a less vocal, aggravating way like the rest of us, or I will institute that whatever weight you were lifting when disturbing everyone’s peace has to be shoved straight up your ass.