Thursday, November 27, 2008

planet earth...

im sure many of you have viewed the epic dvd box set known as planet earth. im curious as to whether upon the production of this cinematic marvel they took into the consideration of the direct effect the ownership of this set of dvds would have on the avid cannabis smokers of the world. "hmmm, how can i possibly make this bongload better? ice cubes in the bong. check. bag of smoked almonds. check. another half eighth of that club shit you bought off that guy you normally dont buy from cuz he always makes you hang out and watch some form of martial arts film and then you kind of sense that he knows youre lying to him when you tell him youre suppose to have dinner with your in-laws. (i kind of feel bad, but hes got the coolest names for his weed. do i desire to smoke something named "zanzibar rabbit", or "eye of the storm"? fuck and yes). check. arizona sweet iced tea tall can. check. hmmm, i feel like im missing something here. oh, 22 hours of the raw, indifferent and godless bitch known as mother nature at its best. check.

planet earth is a brilliant way to spend hours of fogging your braincells with some of the most brutal concepts of nature. it really gets you thinking sometimes about what if.... what if my cushy life of binge drinking, constant flossing and laundry were switched around to resemble a life that more of a wildebeest. its a fucked up life let me tell you that much.

wildebeests- so there you are, middle of the night, parched with thirst, get out of bed to get a bottle of water. FUCK! your roomate hurries downstairs to the gruesome visual of you being mauled by the souless, hate factory that is the crocodile. make you think twice next time you get a drink of water. but we should all be looking over our shoulders at public drinking fountains anyhow.

caribou- this would be a pretty shitcock existence. youre out for your morning jog, you have that feeling that someone is watching you. you cautiously scan your neighborhood, dont see anything. keep jogging, aiming for that prime cardio rhythm your doctor told you to strive for because your heart was beginning to look like a bacon wrapped croissant. yet some primal instinct tells you something is afoot. you turn around, whats that in the distance? you can see something, just standing still. SHIT! motherfuckin timberwolf, no more than a quarter mile away. its possible hes just out for a jog as well, i mean it is a beautiful morning and he would have just attacked if he wanted to. right? you continue jogging constantly looking over your shoulder, you can tell the timberwolf is now jogging as well and gaining distance on you, but he does just appear to be at a slight jaunt even, you dont want to stereotype him, just because a furry, canine jaws of death is slowly closing a distance between you and him on your morning jog doesnt mean he has ill intentions. you make it home safely. but you certainly lock the door behind you and start peering out the windows for the next few hours. timberwolves are badass-vin diesel-motherfuckers that way. theyll fuck with you just for the sake of fucking with you. and to eat you.

elephant- man your tired. that commute from work is just brutal. all you want to do is get in a nice warm bath, blast some post rock at a nerve damaging volume and eat 42 pounds of vegetation. and you know what, you can do that. because your the biggest goddamn land walking mammal on the planet, no one fucks with you. but what the hell is this as you pull up the driveway!? HOLY TITWAD! a pride of lions is posted up in your driveway. they look haggard, maybe theyre just religious solicitors and want to convince me to marry my sister or something. that has to be it, they wouldnt be here to eat me, im an elephant, no one eats me. ill just casually walk by them and say hello. nope. now youre dying the most brutal of deaths. slowly being devoured by a pride of starving lions. oh, its slow and shitty and you probably have a heart attack before any entrails are being spilled everywhere. being caught off guard like that is a bitch, but mother nature is a coldhearted ex girlfriend who gave your old bandmate a blowjob on your birthday.

lake flies- want to teach kids why they should have safe sex? because if youre a lake fly and you get a girl pregnant you die! you fucking die! that will teach you to keep the bologna in the sandwich. and same thing with praying manti. "did you hear? tex got drunk at that party the other night and hooked up with that kind of sketchy broad. no, not that same girl, her roomate. well, they found him the next morning, head bitten clean off." thats fucked up business. tree frogs rape their mates and then peace out immediately afterwards. mother nature must read a lot of brett easton ellis.

seals- so theres that killer burrito stand across the street from your house, and you are famished. but youve heard stories of how dangerous crossing that busy street can be at certain hours. some have crossed over there never to be seen again. but damn, you can taste that red snapper chimichanga already. im sure its worth a shot. look both ways, seems to be safe. "this isnt so bad, clearly there is no car in sight, this lunch is as good as mine. i should also get a side of rice, the rice there is the ja..." FACED! the giant-godless-mecha-fuckfest-killing machine known as the great white shark has quickly and most intensely ended your life. sucks to be a seal sometimes. well, unless your those ones that can play the trumpet at sea world and shit, those ones have it pretty well.

snow geese- "honey! im going to the store to get food for our lovely 8 children". of course you dont tell her that youre also going to an adult bookstore to hit up a spank booth. but a man has urges and after mating season the mrs. never seems to want to do it anymore. "honey! you wouldnt believe who i bumped into at the... Honey! Sugar Slots! where are you!!!???" unfortunately your question is soon answered. there lies the mangled body of your beloved wife and your children are nowhere to be found. only one person would be sly enough to pull off this kind of massacre. the ruthless arctic fox. but thats how it works out in the wild, step out for some groceries and quick tug, come back to find your entire family murdered by the cunning arctic fox. and since snow geese mate for life youre pretty much fucked from here on out. have fun with that pointless existence dickteeth. somehwere mr. fox is dining on the bodies of your children, that should comfort you out in the tundra.

so there you have it. the cruel world outside our comfy living rooms. how does one exist out in the wild? especially with no access to pot?

Friday, November 14, 2008

who gets the kendo stick...

welcome back to your weekly edition of passive aggresive violence towards all the little things in life. there's always the question of who/what is worthy of the this honorable stick beating. that leggy blonde you smiled at the crosswalk yesterday who didn't return the favor. you had broccoli in your teeth, you pissrope. she is not worthy of the beating, but your lack of oral hygiene certainly is. that sandwich you ordered the other day where the salami was dry and they put yellow mustard on instead of the dijon you clearly wrote down on your order. abso-pop tart-fucking-lutely. wear that inadequately prepared deli sando out with your hate welded kendo stick. so now that these biased lines are clearly drawn, let justice be served.

left hand turns- are you fucking kidding me? how is anyone suppose to travel in this world when left hand turns are hindering us from returning movies and obtaining coffee. there's certain streets i just completely avoid knowing that ill be sitting there with my head on a swivel praying that a loving god is initializing a red light 2 miles away. and there's always someone behind you geting irritated that you're too much of a yeast infection to shoot that gap inbetween suv's that would of resulted in massive vehicle carnage. would it be too much for you to install a stop light? four way stop? drawbridge? the real problem here is americas lack of flying cars. at least hummer is still manufacturing non-flying new vehicles. hawk fuckers.

ingrown pubic hairs- are you gay if you're a male who shaves his pubes? yes, yes you are. unless you're attempting to compensate for a very unimpressive penis, which i am. keeping the hedges trimmed adds 30% to your size. its fact. not medical fact but fact all the same. the issue though is ingrown hairs. they are the pain equivalent of placing your balls hot plate and smashing them with a croquet mallet while viewing zach braffs performance in "the ex". when it comes to sexy time with a lady its just a lost cause. is it a zit? a cyst? a boil? lets just call it what it really is, a "there's no chance in hell that this broad is going to give you head freckle". FACED! this kendo sticks for you ingrown pubic hair. grow outwards instead of inwards. stop copying my emotional growth. FACED! another kendo stick for charles grodin wasting his genius on the movie "the ex". you're better than that charlie. now go make beethoven 8.

halloween parties- my goodness you suck. its bad enough this pagan festival is celebrated with more enthiusiasm than some of the less renowned holidays like "arbor day" or "national drink a handle of gin and vomit in your neighbors driveway day". but its the costumes that kill me. why is it every girl uses this as an excuse to be a sexy "insert random character here". oh you're a sexy bumble bee? a sexy nurse? no, you're a slut who doesn't have the confidence to wear fitting clothes the other 364 days a year. why can't guys get away with this. hey, look at me! I'm a sexy rapist. I'm a sexy blow job recipient enthiusiast. what are you? I'm a sexy narcoleptic with obsessive compulsive disorder and no job. for some reason it doesn't work the same, and that's just sexist, not sexy. and when you're at a halloween party, odds are you're on a massive reeses peanut butter cup high and a flask of whiskey deep. my vision is already foggy so how am i suppose to know if the sexy girl scout I'm dancing with is even sexy? you don't. it can translate into an awkward november 1st when the sexy hooker you took home actually turns out to be a hooker. lets just hope shell accept payment in hersheys minatures and loose candy corn. i dressed up as a lebanese discotech owner. nothing sexy about that. FACED! to hell with you halloween, see you next year in my sexy condom costume you hen-dicked holiday.

happy kendo stick thursday kids!

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

i kind of need to get drunk enough to punch a woman...

ever face this problem? i have the answer. its called taaka vodka.

the magic of unemployment is that it helps you explore the seedy underbelly of cheap alcohol. and there is nothing cheaper than taaka vodka. i mean third world country yearly income cheap. a half pint of this potion is $1.99 at the local corner store. don't bother trying to get this at a grocery store, there too proud for this devil water. only the sketchiest of bodegas will be carrying this. a whole 750 ml bottle is $5.99, and let me tell you, you will blacking out in no time. mix this shit with 99 cent watermelon arizona iced tea and youre in for the night of your night. now most people say vodka is a "queers" beverage, but you must own the hairiest set of prostitute choking balls to get down with this drink. majority of people say it tastes like nutrasweet added to rubbing alcohol. and 4 out of 5 poverty waged alcoholic minors can't be wrong. the problem with taaka is that you can drink it straight if needs be. when its ice cold it tastes like syrupy orgasms. when its room temp its still palatible and will have you falling down a flight of stairs in moments. it takes class to a new level. a buddy of mine has a "special" taaka martini recipe, it goes as follows:

taaka martini:

-1 pint glass
-6 ice cubes
-1 pint of taaka vodka
-2 olives

serve in the middle of a tuesday afternoon and text your ex-girlfriend.

I've tried it, its a can't miss recipe. few other clever taaka recipes I've invented that you can enjoy while downloading porn.

taaka white russian (aka, white christmas):

-1 highball glass (no ice)
-2 parts taaka vodka (room temp)
-1 part vanilla rice dream (room temp)

prepare upon waking up from hangover. drink while taking explosive 2 am jack in the box taco shits. be sure to not offer the girl in your bed one, because you dont remember her name.

first date punch:

-1/2 bottle of your favorite vitamin water
-fill remainder of bottle with taaka

nothing more nerve racking than a first date. what better way to calm the nerves than be sipping on a highly alcoholic beverage while learning a girls life story. you gotta get through that boring horseshit somehow. and she won't know the better, until you get home and can't get it up because you've been drinking bastard water all evening.

broad street blackeye:

-1 of the largest cups you have in your kitchen
-ice cube (optional)
-1 sparks alcoholic energy drink
-1 pint of taaka vodka
-splash of sprite
-splash of canadian mist whiskey

consume half. now show 3 hours late to a party with a blackeye and the loss of every and all motor skills. dance shirtless and be sure to fall every other song and scream at the dj about how awesome he is. wake up on floor of bedroom pantless with a vhs version of the 1993 robert redford classic "sneakers" playing on loop (sidney poitier is so badass).

taaka vodka; the classy drink for classy people who do classy things.

i definitely urge you to try this stuff. you won't be upset, but you might hate yourself.

see you tomorrow with the return of kendo stick thursday.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

just when you thought it was safe...

well, well, well.

its been a while comrades. you may ask where this asshole has been hibernating for the past 9 months. well, after the infamous brain malfunction i had in the winter of '08 i was ceremoniously laid off from my beloved accounting job. was i shocked? of course not, that place was bankrupt since the moment my under qualified ass walked in there. was the other 20% of the company that got laid off shocked?

other 20% of company- "didnt you see this coming tex? i mean, youre the one with all the financial information"

me- "bwahahahhahahahahahah. teeeeeehhheeeeeeee. (/wipes tear from right eye) bwahahhahahahah. ohohohohohohohoooo. whooooohahahah."

why was i laughing you ask? UNEMPLOYMENT MOTHERFUCKERS!!!

i knew what was coming to me. given the current financial situation what were the odds i was going to find another miserable accounting position? companies dont have any money to be accounted for. so i did what any red blooded american mid-20's cro magnon would do. accepted the fact i would be suckling the ripe, voluptuous, well shapen tit of california unemployment. upon emptying my desk under supervised gunpoint (assuming as to not steal any paperclips or finally taking that oh so desirable shit upon my supervisors desk) i two stepped out of the office forever straight to home. put on my beloved vintage brian downing angels jersey and strolled to the local bar and ordered the largest, most delicious glass of whiskey these lips have ever pounded. after that i rolled home, consumed a bottle of black label, a tombstone pizza and tried ordering a stripper off of craigslist. luckily (for i spent all my cash at the bar) i passed out before i could answer the returned call from what was suppose to be a 100 pound asian lady of the night appropriately named "lotus".

after that, i kind of lost the flame to write. i mean i wasnt getting paid to do it on someone elses time anymore. so what have i been doing to occupy my time? heres the short list: drinking, dancing, gambling, flossing, pornography viewing, dodger hating, walking, self indulging, napping, coughing, razor scootering, minor contributing, weapons grade plutonium manufacturing, laughing, erectile dysfunctioning, pouting, cobra vs. mongoose fighting, music writing, dinosaur slaying, mouth running, cutting, feverishly masturbating, not eating, party crashing, showering and farting on my sister.

its truly been a magical spring/summer/fall. but like all good things (breasts), the financial teet i have been nursing on for so long has grown dry and chapped. but luckily the result is the return of the blog that all 5 of you have come to cheer up your dickpunch days at your dickpunch jobs. whats to come you ask?
- the return of kendo stick thursday
- newer, cheaper and more vile alcohols and the effects they have
- my recent radio interview about my sexual deviancy
- disney characters i want to sleep with
- imagination cheeseburger (enticing just by the title isnt it?)
- and so much more...

its Quarter Life Crisis! now with less political savvy than ever!

Thursday, January 24, 2008

who gets the kendo stick...

well, i have a semi valid excuse for lack of updates this week. ive been in and out of the hospital battling would-be aneurysms, brain swelling, meningitis, polio, ice cream headache, belspalsy, tennis elbow, elephantitis of the nut sack and blindness (and by blindness i mean severe coolness). however, through the heavy intravenous rush of painkillers ive been receiving it was brought to my attention that it is indeed kendo stick thursday. so heres my hospital/amazing how pathetic health care in america/why isnt there a single hot asian nurse edition of "who gets the kendo stick"

my brain- what the fuck is your problem? you like swelling like my junk in 9th grade math class huh? you like causing me pain equivalent to dane cook stand up? if you werent so evolutionally well protected in my skull i would toss you in front of a handsome cab and let the horse poop on you. and you know what? i dont care if this is being written by you. you think youre so badass because you control every functioning part of my body. you god complex having cocksucker. if youre so damn cool how about you control your swelling and protein output. FACED! this kendo sticks for you panther-fucker.

the cat scan machine- you know why you suck? because when i was carted into to see you i thought you were a time machine. you had all these cool lights and were making all these bitchin noises like "zeeee", "zerdleooo" and "tookle". i was so stoked, i asked the nurse to turn the settings to December 25th 1986. that was the xmas i got my first star wars action figure. i was going to go into the past, unwrap the gift, look my father square in the eye and say "so, are you making it a point that i never get laid? get me a fucking football old man and teach me how to tackle and nail cheerleaders". but no, cat scan machine didnt do any of that shit. it just continued to make cool noises and mock my un-athletic brain. but before i even take the first kendo swipe at you, you heartless non time traveling, built by the lowest bidder, plastic dream raper, im taking a swipe at the technician operating this piece of shit. he was wearing a "drowning pool" shirt under his scrubs, drowning pool fucking swallows. and im shocked to see that they used the drowning pool classic, "let the bodies hit the floor" for the new RAMBO trailer. fuck, everyone and everything is getting the kendo stick in the cat scan room.

my spinal tap- i dont think pain matters anymore, because the spinal tap stole any pure or untainted thoughts i had left. a three inch needle into my fucking spine!!! then slowly let fluids drip out of said needle!!! from this day forward i will never get a boner while spooning a girl again.

various amounts of painkillers ive been on for the past few days- just kidding, i love you guys. if i wasnt already an alcoholic i would totally consider becoming a p-k junkie. no kendo stick for you. FACED! but jimmy fallon gets one for making me watch that stupid fucking TAXI movie in the hospital the other night.

nurse who i thought was hot- what?! a guy on a morphine drip cant ask you out on a date? oh, youre seeing someone? well where is he? im here, im flesh and blood. true most of my blood is leaking somewhere out of my ears and ill never be able to operate chopsticks again, but hey! im right here. what do you mean you cant accept a tip? youre the only decent looking nurse in this morgue. im not asking you to do anything against the rules. just sit here and talk with me. ill tell you all about my harry potter obsession and how i think the angels have a great chance of winning it all this year. no, no. you dont need to check on that guy, i havent heard him breathing for hours. now tell me your name. is that hungarian? why is everything sounding like an bjork song all the sudden? you stupid bitch, you increased that drip so that i would pass out and you could go back to saving lives other than halfway fulfilling one of my sick erotic fantasies. well if the room wasnt getting so dark so fast i would swing this kendo stick right across youre wannabe Florence Nightingale tit you silly coooo.........

happy kendo stick thursday kids. im going to get absolutely tanked on painkillers and 7-Up. wish me luck. cheers.

Thursday, January 17, 2008

who gets the kendo stick...

welcome to your thursday beatdown boys and girls. there's been an abundance of candidates worthy of the old kendo swipe to face this week; my supervisor as always, that cheeseburger that gave me heartburn, residents of massachusetss and so forth. so here are this weeks recipients of karmic justice in the form a wooden stick beating. prepare to get FACED! cock-wookies:

IT guy with shit eating grin- you've managed to do it yet again you verbal toilet.

me- why am i not getting any spam emails?

IT guy- i put *fart* a filter up so you won't get them *fart* anymore.

me- oh, thanks. (now i know his intentions were of the best, but spam email keeps me occupied. how else am i suppose to find out how much i could be saving on my long distance plan or what new miracle pill will cure prostate inflammation? besides, we all know that the road to hell is paved with "good intentions")

IT guy- no *fart* prob, what are *fart* friends for.

i could see the poo juice dripping down his chin through that smarmy smile. i think there's a video on the internet starring him titled "1 IT guy, 2 cups". what are friends for? friends drive you to the airport. friends buy you lapdances and jaeger shots on your birthday. friends offer to put their finger in your ass when your stressing out in the bathroom while experiencing your first bout of performance anxiety (i owe you one Paul). friends don't strip you of the only reason you check your email. FACED! this kendo sticks for you, you fucking ass-rat.

stall talking co worker- as talked about in the post below, i believe that you only get a good kendo stick blow to the knuckles. you FACED! yourself enough by accessorizing your shirt with that skunk-shit tail.

my urine- what the hell is your problem this week? you keep smelling like steamed vegetables. am i sleepwalking and eating broccoli patches at night? you should be smelling like you normally do, of coffee, jameson and self loathing induced erectile dysfunction. get it together pee. the last thing i want to do is kendo stick my own balls. i pay vietnamese hookers to do that for me.

the dude wearing the banana suit outside jamba juice who would not take "no" for an answer- look man, i don't want to try the new doucheberry smoothie. oh! you claim its really good? you like it? because i wanto to be just like you. i have a hard enough time getting laid, so i don't need to be talking to a 6 foot banana in broad daylight. it has a new vita-boost you swear by? well then, ill have the 16 oz. doucheberry smoothie, with a celibacy-boost and a shot of zero self respect. and what the hell, toss in one of those pretzels covered with total faggotry. you take debit cards right? the last kendo stick of the day is for you my struggling art history major.

when bathroom nightmares become reality...

I'm blaming the faceless IRS and preparation of taxes on my lack of posts this week. I'm blaming my erupting asshole on 4 long islands and an empty stomach. earlier in the week my friend and i were talking about how miserable it is when a co-worker tries talking to you through the stall at work. completely innapropriate behavior in the workplace. that's my private time (albeit on the companys time), i don't come over to your house and ask how the day is going while you're fucking your wife/pet koala. but revenge was swift and sweet on this occasion.

setting: bathroom, 11:15 am. co-worker in next stall.

me: (furious long island iced tea crap {loud splashing noise})

co-worker: wow. that didn't sound healthy.

me: please don't speak to me when I'm taking a shit.

co-worker: jeez, sorry man. bad morning?

me: (silence)

co-worker: whatever.

i hurried out of the bathroom furious with the interuption of my bowel movement. plotting what path of revenge i would take. urinate in his coffee? stuff a dead hooker in trunk? swastika screen saver? but then i noticed the gods had already lightning bolted his monkey ass with the swift kendo stick of karma.

as i saw him walking back to his desk i noticed something on the back of shirt. i was overwhelmed with glee, for he had pulled the ultimate shit break mishap. there it was, as clear as day, big ol' skid mark on the lower portion of his tommy bahama short sleeved atrocity. obviously he was wiping in the standard upwards motion, must have dragged dookie from his own exhaust pipe and streaked it on his shirt. how long before he notices this? could be hours, could be all day, could be never. he'll be sniffing around constantly, wondering if he stepped in something, wondering if someone around him is cutting farts, etc.
now i know this has happened to the best of us at some point, for me personally it happened while i was shit faced, eating chili fries on the toilet at the johnny rockets in beverly hills. so i can sympathize with him. but, seeing how it is kendo stick thursday, ill let him figure it on his own.