Wednesday, December 30, 2009


Hey everyone, I decided to take a little break from writing since I've actually been busy with shit for once. But, in two weeks I'll have new blogs up like normal, so stop crying you pussies. On another note, I'd like to thank everyone that has read and enjoyed me blog this year. I'm glad I started writing again after a year long break. Its something I really like doing and without you mofos boosting my self confidence/ego I wouldn't be able to write 44 blogs and roughly 40,000 words in six months. (Yeah, really that many.) Anyways, I'll be coming up with more ridiculous and obnoxious blogs for 2010, and I hope you all have a drunk and disorderly New Year's Eve!


Wednesday, December 23, 2009

No. 95 "Dear Timmy."

Dear Timmy,

I received your wish list this year for Christmas, and I must say that you are asking for a fucking lot, as you haven't really done shit. I would like you to know that I send my elves (ex-cons with priors in sex crimes) to watch you and other children weeks prior to Christmas. Their notes have concluded that you're kind of a jackass. One example would be when you started a chant about a new kid at your school with homosexual undertones. Also, in your younger brother's letter, he mentioned that you tend to push him down frequently with no explanation and that you are an overall "jerk face that should receive no presents." Luckily for you, I am bound by the law to give all children (except Mexicans) presents for Christmas, so today is your lucky day. There are certain items I cannot provide, though. They are highlighted below:

Space Ship:
Do you really think I am going to give you a space ship? Get real, kid. First of all, our records show that you have little to no experience piloting an aircraft of this magnitude, since you are all of three feet tall. Your legs are far too short. Also, our research team has concluded that you have never worked for NASA like you claimed in your original letter. So, no space ship this year. (Or at least until you have 5+ years experience and are five feet tall.)

Roller Blades:
I am going to do you a favor and not grant your wish for roller blades. This is based on two reasons: 1) roller blades are really, really lame. And 2) Seriously, they're gay as fuck. At your age, you probably do not realize the repercussions of being known as "the kid that rollerblades." This stigma will follow you to high school and ultimately lead to your suicide in the 11th grade. Instead, I'll get you a bike. Nothing wrong with a bike.

A Father:
Unfortunately, the north pole cannot provide fathers as Christmas presents. Perhaps if your mother wasn't such a nagging bitch, your original father would have stayed. Instead, I will be giving you a male blow-up sex doll. It is basically the same as a father, except you can have sex with it when you get bored. If that isn't your forte, you can just clothe the doll and explain your troubles to him. He's a great listener.

Sweet Cardigan:
You're not exactly Richie Rich, moron. Actually, your family is quite poor. To properly sport a sweet cardigan, one must own other nice clothes that are not tattered or torn. Putting a cardigan over your shanty clothes will just look silly. Instead, I will provide you with at $5 gift certificate to The Salvation Army, where you can buy clothes by the pound. (Seriously)

You will not be receiving a PS3 since you already have an XBOX 36O, and for an eight year old, are relatively obese. Instead, I will be giving you a football so you get off your ass and exercise as well as a one-year membership to Nutrisystem® so you won't be such a fat ass come next Christmas.

Near the bottom of your list I saw that you asked for a hooker. This I can do, as the North Pole is full of them, and rarely does an eight year old ask for one. If you could email me back the size, hair color, and ethnicity you preferred, I am sure we will be able to fit your needs. (Note: We are almost out of blondes, but have a ample quantity of economy-sized black prostitutes.)

A Dead Brother:
Your younger brother asked for this as well; except he wanted you to be the one murdered. This is a popular request among brothers your age. We do not commit, participate or plan deaths anymore. It just took the mood out of the holiday season, and at times people got in the way and things got messy. We can, however have an elf sneak into your brother's room and fondle him a bit.

I also saw that you asked for a pony. Really? That's for girls, you homo.

The rest of the items you listed can easily be provided, as long as you stop being such a jerkface to your younger brother. Also, instead of leaving out room-temperature milk and burnt cookies, could you put out a bottle of your mom's "sad juice" (The one labeled: Jack Daniel's) and a 5 dollar footlong? That would be great. Oh, and never fucking email me again.



Merry Christmas Eve Eve loyal blog readers! I'm not sure if its the over-load of holiday cookies or my 18 hour sleeping regiment, but I have been in sort of a writer's funk. I wouldn't say I have writer's block, because that would include me screaming at a 1940's typewriter as I pull out my hair and bitch slap my secretary. Its not like that, I swear. My lethargy is just catching up with me, which is strange because even my laziness is lazy. I usually have three or four semi-complete blogs on the back burner and just finish them up the day before I'm going to post them. Right now, my chamber is empty and I must use my hunting knife to get through this week. (Awesome analogy, huh?) I don't want to end my streak of 17 weeks in a row with at least two blogs. Instead of shopping for loved ones today, I'm gonna try to pound out a couple of new blogs and get ahead of track. In any case, expect a new blog tomorrow and have a Merry Fucking Christmas!


Tuesday, December 22, 2009

No. 94 "Sporting Event Etiquette."

Who doesn't love a good 'ol American sporting event? Football, basketball, baseball. Fuck it, I'll even allow hockey since its fun to go to. Soccer still sucks, though. (Sorry Mexicans.) You get to gear up in all your favorite team's overpriced jerseys and hoot and holler as a ball moves from one place to another. There is nothing more fun! Unfortunately for some, they do not know how to behave at a sporting event and tend to text and complain during games. These people are known as women and gay lame dudes. The point of this blog is to teach you folks how to have a grand time while yelling at big black guys and plowing through hot dogs by the dozen.

The alcoholic's favorite part of sporting events. You get to wake up early, set up chairs, TV's and other shit, and then relax and converse with your friends while berating others as they pass in different colored jerseys. Oh, and you drink a shit-ton of alcohol! These sporting events can last up to three and a half hours, so make sure to load up on as much grain alcohol and Milwaukee's Best Ice as you can. Nobody wants to pay $10 for a beer inside the stadium. Also, make sure to puke your brains out before entering the stadium, as lines are frequent for the restrooms. There is also a large selection of healthy foods such as: bratwurst, burgers, chili and sushi. If your particular tailgate doesn't provide food, just wander over to another tailgate, make a comment about defense or something vague and then scarf down all their food. After you are finished, kick over their barbecue set and laugh hysterically while you run back to your tailgate.

T-Shirt Machine Gun:
"Yes! I got a cheap T-shirt with a bunch of sponsored logos on it that is two sizes too big! Fuck yeah!" That's what you'll be saying when you catch a sweet new T-shirt. It was well worth knocking that kid out of his wheel chair for. He won't need it, as he'll be dying very soon. T-shirt machine guns make the boring time-outs fun. A bunch of random dudes and cheerleaders shoot out shirts to crowds of drunk fans. Unfortunately, due to the economy, many sports teams had to cut expenses and limit their t-shirt gun arsenal. This means that weak-armed cheerleaders will have to physically throw the shirts, which only end up going about seven feet. The people in the top rows of the stadium (shanties) usually still attempt to catch shirts, even though they never, ever get them. Laugh at these poor fucks as you show them your new over sized T-shirt. The best way to get a free t-shirt is to come to the game without clothing. Even if you don't catch a shirt, a kind fan will give you theirs. Win-win situation!

Starting A Chant:
One of the most fun things to do at a sporting event. Just repeat the same five words in a row and the athletes on the court will play even harder. Try to start an original chant. We've all heard "De-Fense!" and "Here We Go Blank Blank, Here We Go!" Be creative and start a chant that starts a rumor about a player you dislike, such as "Manu Ginobili Fondles Little Kids!" or "Tom Brady Is An Islamic Extremist!" They don't even have to rhyme or make sense. All you need is a group of intoxicated college kids, some body paint, a couple signs and the ability to offend. If you have court-side seats, many of the players will actually be able to hear you, and depending on the athlete, some might even start crying and run away into the locker room. Just because you're an athlete doesn't mean you don't have feelings.

God damn kids should not be allowed within the first five rows of games. Whenever I am watching a sporting event on television, I see all these rich kids playing their Game Boy Pockets and not paying attention to a close basketball game. I want to choke them with their scarf that matches their cardigan. If you have children, do not bring them to the game. They are bound to hear profanities and might even see a titty or two. And we wouldn't want these little bastards getting in our way when a drunk girl flashes the crowd after a home run, now would we? A good way to discourage parents from bringing these demons is to act obnoxious as possible. Spill your beer on them, curse endlessly and follow them to the bathroom. (What happens after that point is up to you.) That way, mommy and daddy will say something like "My word! We are never coming back here again!" Or "I'm calling the fucking police." Hopefully the former.

Every kid remembers going to their first baseball game with their dad. They remember watching their dad have a few too many brews, start a fight with a rival fan, stab them with a rusty screw driver and then get hauled off by the police. Right? It is mandatory for every sports fan to antagonize and mock all opposing fans that attend the game. Some great examples are: to make their best player's name sound effeminate or gay, make fun of their lack of championships, or to just throw a beer in their fucking face. All are equally as effective. When going to a game where you are the minority fan, (i.e. Cardinals home games against the Cowboys) one must not make eye contact, cheer loudly or annoy other home fans. It is basically like being the new guy in prison, you don't want to get noticed. Those that do participate in rowdy types of behavior tend to get batteries thrown at them and kicked down large flights of stairs.

So there are a few helpful tips on how to act when attending a sporting event. I hope you have learned something new and will use this information next time you attend a sporting event. Also remember to follow the agreed upon type of high-five that will be used to celebrate certain instances during the game, bathroom guidelines, (including the "no-talk policy" at urinals) and to hit on cheerleaders until security is called. Go team!

Saturday, December 19, 2009


It's the weekend! Well, it doesn't really matter since it is winter break, but weekends tend to be awesome regardless. Only six more days until Christmas, so I came up with a short list of gifts I would have killed for when I was a kid, but would be completely useless to me now that I'm all grown'd up. It goes something like this:

-Fila shoes
-Game Boy Pocket
-My two front teeth
-Titanic on two disc tape VHS
-Bumblebee yo-yo
-350 ct. pog and slammer set
-Final Fantasy VII
-Razor scooter
-Laser Tag set

So, anyone out there looking to get me a gift for Santa's birthday, make sure none of those are on your shopping list unless you intend on time traveling to 1997, in which case would be "rad." (My favorite word when I was 11.) Anyways, I've been updating my blog with new posts every Tuesday and Thursday, but I'm gonna be more random from now on. I'll always post them sometime between Sunday and Thursday, but it won't always be on set days. That's all for today, have a rad weekend.


Thursday, December 17, 2009

No. 93 "What Your Facial Hair Says About You."

As the old saying goes "sometimes hair speaks louder than words." I think it was Benjamin Franklin who coined that gem, because he had a rockin' balding mullet. But facial hair can say even more than about you than your sweet combed-down, spiked-in-the-back emo do' can, you fucking douche. Here are a couple examples of facial hair than says something about the person wearing it.

Grizzly Beard:
Popular in the mountain man community. The men that have these burly beards most likely enjoy hunting animals and/or humans. It is also very probable that they own several wool plaid shirts and can shoot whiskey with the best of them. You will not see them at environmental protests or reading books. They are much too busy building a log cabin or beating their wife. When conversing with these fellows it is important to stay away from subjects such as gun control, gay rights and scrap booking.

Handlebar Mustache:
To own one of these sweet 'staches one must first be a barkeep at a local saloon or be a NASCAR enthusiast with very few black friends and even fewer teeth. These aren't as popular as they were in the 1870's, but you'll still find a fellow or two brandishing the handlebar mustache. This look tells everyone not to fuck with you, because there is a very good chance you own a revolver and have no problem shooting the fool that cracks wise at your handlebar mustache's expense.

Mexican Mustache:
It may shock some people, but not all people that wear a Mexican Mustache are from the proud and diverse Latino community. In fact, it is popular in the white trash/hillbilly community as well. Go to any trailer park across this fine country and you will find this 'stache on delightful trailer owner-operators and methamphetamine chemists. Although it was originated by twelve year old Mexican hoodlums, it is all the rage in the deep south. People that bear this mustache most likely do not hold multiple degrees in philosophy and probably read at a third grade level.

Popularized by cartoon versions of Satan, who looked Italian. Not saying he is, but he definitely looked Italian. Anyways, a goatee means you're a tough guy, or wearing a tough guy uniform. Which includes, but is not limited to: random barbed wire tattoos, a crew cut, dark clothing, and a frown. People that have goatees are perfectionists because it must takes hours to trim their goatee just right on each side. Its an art form really, and if you mess up one must start from scratch.

The symbol of the jobless, carefree and recently broken up with. Having a face full of scruff basically tells the world that you will not be attending a job interview, giving a speech to a committee or be allowed entrance into a public school. The scruff-wearers of the world tend to drink a lot of carbonated energy drinks and play video games until the sun comes up. During the early stages of their scruffiness, most are in long term relationships, but once the scruff passes a certain line, these men become readily available due to the fact that their girlfriends broke up with them to date a dude with goatees.

Soul Patch:
Not just for bald game show hosts and douche bag magicians anymore! A soul patch is like the tiny-heart-tattoo-on-the-lower-torso for men. It's just enough to get noticed. Most dudes that grow and maintain a soul patch are into themselves. You can expect to find numerous hair and grooming products in their bathroom, as well as a shopping bag full of pink dildos. Whatever overpriced fashion t-shirts that are popular at the time are most likely in their closets as well. The grizzly beards look down on these fellows and scoff at their attempt at facial hair, and then puncture them with a bayonet.

Chin Strap:
Also popular with those that choose a soul patch. Many of these gentlemen switch between a chin strap and soul patch based upon the seasons. Those that have and maintain a chin strap are very meticulous. The skill set needed to groom and sculpt a perfect chin strap challenges Leonardo DiVinci artistically. (Who, himself could never maintain a sound chin strap for more than a week without throwing his electric razor to the ground in anger.) The chin strap has been popularized by guido youth throughout the upper east coast. They combine pounds of hair gel and a pencil thin beard the most perfectly. Tilted Fedora hats are optional. Unfortunately, most chin strap wearers do not know how to speak proper English.

Female Facial Hair:
Ugh. Gross! Unless one is attempting to become a bearded lady at a traveling side show, it is highly recommended that all women, no matter their dress size or lack of a pretty face, get rid of all that nasty hair. There is nothing worse than kissing a girl and feeling a little fuzz on her upper lip. No one likes that, well unless you're a gay dude into mustaches, but even then, why are you kissing a woman?

So there are eight examples of what one's facial hair says about them. Unfortunately we didn't have time for the Abraham Lincoln beard, the Side-Burns-Connected-To-The-Mustache, or the Fu Manchu because any one that rocks those kinds of facial hair styles is either being overly ironic or traveling from the past to fix the mistakes made in the future. So if you see someone rockin' one of those looks, first ask where their time machine is, and if they act confused, just tell them to stop being so fucking ironic!

Wednesday, December 16, 2009


Good evening/morning/afternoon my friendly blog readers. Its been a busy week so far. Who'd a thunk drug dealing would take up so much time. I mean you have to scout the high schools, (and middle schools) fight off the security guards and make the deal before the cops or parents get involved. Not to mention the time and money I've spent on dark colored hoodies and neck tattoos. Maybe this isn't the field for me. Anyways, I've still managed to come up with some ridiculous blogs for your viewing pleasure. Some of the topics that should be posted in coming weeks are about: facial hair, measures of manliness, mistresses, the holidays, (maybe) and sports etiquette. Oh, and if you wanna do me a favor and refer this blog to a friend (or enemy) or yours, that would be neat. Just as long as they are not members of my family. Don't want my Aunt Dolores bitchin' at me.

LATE. (AKA the cool way to say good bye to your guy friends.)


Tuesday, December 15, 2009

No. 92 "Date From Hell."

So the other day, a friend of mine set me up on a blind date with her friend Cupid. Kind of s strange name, but she said she was really cool and had big boobs so I was in. But, when we met for dinner at this really nice French restaurant she kept avoiding my questions and tried to sell me random things. I think she might be a little off, or she might just be mentally retarded. Either way, here's a low down of our date.

11:35 pm Hey, how are you? I'm Patrick. Michelle set us up.

Cupid 11:35 pm Hello again. ;-)

scorsese90 11:36 pm Again? we've never met before. This is sort of a blind date. So, what do you do for a living, Cupid?

Cupid 11:36 pm Ah -- you've got me again. Why don't you type menu.

scorsese90 11:37 pm Huh? Again? We've never met before. I just asked what you do for a living. It's a simple question really.

Cupid 11:37 pm Interesting. Type menu.

scorsese90 11:37 pm Wow. Ok, new subject...

Cupid 11:37 pm Cool.

scorsese90 11:37 pm Yes. That is cool. How do you know Michelle?

Cupid 11:37 pm OK! Now other AIM users can send you anonymous IM crushes and "tag" you -- and you have to guess who it is. Now, type MENU to get started.

scorsese90 11:38 pm That did not answer my question at all, Cupid. I'm not so sure about this blind date.

Cupid 11:38 pm Excuse me? Have you sent your sweetie a gift today? Type CHOCOLATE or ROSES NOW.

scorsese90 11:38 pm My sweetie? I don't have a sweetie. That's why I'm on a date with you.

Cupid 11:38 pm Pardon me? Send your baby some love. Type CHOCOLATE or ROSES and impress your sweetie.

scorsese90 11:38 pm Quit it with the chocolate and roses shit. Just tell me a little about yourself.

Cupid 11:38 pm I'm sorry? I'm new to this whole IM thing. :-D Type CHOCOLATE or ROSES NOW and show your love.

scorsese90 11:39 pm IM? We're at a french restaurant.

Cupid 11:39 pm Why did you say that? Get your baby a present NOW! Type CHOCOLATE or ROSES.

scorsese90 11:39 pm Because it's where we are you moron.

Cupid 11:39 pm I'm Dulles, VA.

scorsese90 11:39 pm Ok, you're from Virginia. Thanks for answering a question I never asked you.

Cupid 11:39 pm Kewl.

scorsese90 11:40 pm Do you have brain damage?

Cupid 11:40 pm Can I ask YOU something?

scorsese90 11:40 pm Ugh. Sure.

Cupid 11:40 pm Have you bought your honey a Valentine's Day gift yet?

scorsese90 11:40 pm Well, Valentine's Day is over two months away so, no, I have not.

Cupid 11:40 pm I thought you were a romantic person!!?!?? Listen, I'll help you. Type SHOP. The perfect gift is out there...

scorsese90 11:40 pm Why are you yelling? And where am I supposed to type? My computer is at home.

Cupid 11:40 pm Hmm... Are you?

scorsese90 11:41 pm No, I'm speaking calmly.

Cupid 11:41 pm Mm hm. Such negativity. You are in need of a date!

scorsese90 11:41 pm I'm on a date with you!! How dense are you?

Cupid 11:41 pm Great, thanks. You?

scorsese90 11:41 pm Oh my God, I'm leaving.

Cupid 11:41 pm Well, you don't have to be Christian to celebrate the love.

scorsese90 11:42 pm That has nothing to do with anything you dumb bitch!

Cupid 11:42 pm Lovely.

scorsese90 11:42 pm Now you're being a smart ass?

Cupid 11:42 pm Please. Look. I'm taking a lot of time to help you find a date. Type find love now and I'll get you on the right track.

scorsese90 11:42 pm I'm already on a date with you. Jesus, I'm out of here!

Cupid 11:42 pm May I ask you a question?

scorsese90 11:42 pm Ugh. Fine.

Cupid 11:42 pm Um... Fine [?]

scorsese90 11:43 pm Yes, you can.

Cupid 11:43 pm Yes!!

scorsese90 11:43 pm Later bitch. Enjoy your brain damage and the bill.

Cupid 11:43 pm I don't respond to that kind of language. I suspect it gets you a lot of dates, huh?

scorsese90 11:43 pm I don't give a fuck, die bitch!

Cupid 11:43 pm Hey, whoa! 86 the potty mouth. I just won't be able to help you find a date. Please, type find love now and I'll try to match you up with someone.

scorsese90 11:43 pm Good bye, please kill yourself.

Cupid 11:43 pm TTYL.

No, I was not drunk or high on illicit drugs when I came up with this idea. However, I am now seeking psychiatric help.

Thursday, December 10, 2009

No. 91 "Benign Minutia VIII."

Back with some more menoosh. Hope ya'll enjoy.

-I have a feeling that the increasing number of younger women getting married has something to do with their love for using the word "hubby."

-I was watching "Jersey Shore," earlier today and I'm having a hard time trying to figure out what nationality these find people are. I wish they would mention it at least once, or have some sort of tattoo, color scheme or necklace to give me a hint. I'm going with Cuban since they all have Scarface posters.

-Technically, people that live in apartments are homeless.

-I love going through the "people you may know" section on Facebook. Its just full of people, who I do know, but choose not to request friendship from. My favorite part, though, is looking at the profiles of the ugly/fat/gross people from high school and seeing the schmucks they tricked into marrying them or having a child with. Its a fun game to play.

-Whenever you put the word Brazilian before another word, it sounds much better: Brazilian steakhouse, Brazilian wax, Brazilian genocide. Well, maybe not the last one.

-You know you're not rolling in the dough when you are out at a restaurant with friends and someone orders a batch of onion rings. You don't take even one because you do not want to have to go "halfsies" on the appetizer bill.

-If you hear a girl's phone alarm go off during the day you best believe she is D.T.F. Time to take that B.C., H.O.

-Playing "Never Have I Ever" with a new girlfriend is always nerve wrecking and awkward. Example: Never have I ever done anal. Why'd you put three fingers down? When will this game end?!

-I think a lot of emo chicks are cute, but having to put inch wide holes in my ears, cut my hair while blind folded and wear beanies in the summer is so not worth it to win her affection.

-It's strange when you break up with a girlfriend, but still have all of her friends as your Facebook friends. You kind of liked them, but wouldn't be friends with them if you hadn't known them through her. Its like a silent friendship. You don't talk to each other since the only thing you have in common is her, and it would be just weird to delete each other.

-Essays assigned to students that had a specific number of words needed must have truly sucked before word count was invented for Microsoft Office.

-Does Dexter Morgan take requests?

-Nothing says "I've given up on dating" quite like a girl wearing sweatpants to a party.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009


Happy Wednesday, blog readers! I hope you haven't eaten all of your advent calendars yet like I have. Which, surprisingly, is only 1.3 ounces of chocolate, so I bought six more and had that for lunch today. Just wanted to update you on some shit. Today was not my birthday in case you got duped into believing it by me changing my birthday on Facebook. I appreciate all the "Happy Birthday" comments, but unfortunately will not be able to return your gifts because I am greedy. Anyways, I have seven followers now, which is a 40% increase. Hells yeah! I want to get to ten by 2011, so help me make this dream come true. A new blog will be up tomorrow, (Thursday) so enjoy more horrible thoughts. That is all, carry on with the rest of your day.

Next Blog: Benign Minutia VIII.


Tuesday, December 8, 2009

No. 90 "Gym Time."

So you've come to the realization that it is time to start going to gym again? By again, I mean for the first time ever. And by realization I mean you haven't gotten laid in six months and when you tried to run and catch the ice cream truck you ended up in the hospital with heart palpitations. Its OK though, after reading this, you'll gain the confidence to work out and soon you'll be that douche bag taking off his shirt at parties that don't involve pools.

Sign Up:
You can't just show up to the gym and start slamming weights and yelling at mirrors. You have to sign up for a membership. The front desk clerk will try his hardest not to laugh at your fat ass or say thinly-veiled condescending comments towards you. You will have to fill out a lot of paperwork that the buff clerk will attempt to read, but eventually just give up and say something like "looks like everything is here." Remember that the five year membership is the best deal in the long run and you will never regret their non-termination policy.

Morning Milkshake:
You need a supplement filled milkshake before you head off to the gym. Before your first day at the gym, hit up your local GNC and get everything they have. Just throw it all into one of their carts and run out of the store without paying. After being accosted and beaten by one of the much more in-shape employees, offer to pay for the vitamins and supplements with Monopoly money. Since their employees are dumb, they will fall for this trick and you can be on your way. Get all the vitamins and supplements and empty them into a blender. Then, pour in six ounces of milk, a T-bone steak, three raw eggs and four ounces of hair gel. Mix it up evenly and enjoy. You're on your way to six-pack world.

When going to the gym for the first time you want to look good and make a positive impression on your fellow gym members. Show up in a tuxedo and top hat. You may find it difficult to participate in many of the exercises, but at least you'll look mighty fine doing it. Plus the multiple layers will cover up your multiple layers... of fat. If dressing sharp isn't your thing, just wear what you would on a random Saturday afternoon, which is a grease stained t-shirt, boxer shorts and hunting boots. But remember to clean the mud and elk urine off your hunting boots, they have nice carpeted floors at your gym.

Personal Trainers:
After signing up for a membership, most gyms will offer a few free lessons with a personal trainer. A personal trainer is usually a bloke that has failed at being a fire fighter, model or realty television personality. They love working out, and are there to help you become more fit and healthy. Start off with a joke about steroids, and if they laugh, ask seriously if you can borrow some of their steroids. If they refuse to supply you with them, use code and ask if you can purchase some "juice." After they kindly hand you a bottle of Minute Maid, throw it at their head and question why it is not in needle form.

Many fun and exciting classes are offered at gyms. You could try yoga where you get to sweat for two frustrating hours and look like a jackass in front of incredibly hot women. If that's not your thing you can always try Jazzercise, which is basically like a night club. Its full of women dancing and smiling. Just stand in the corner with a beer and attempt to grind on them until security is called. But, the best class of all is kickboxing. They may yell at you for roundhouse kicking random people as soon as you walk in, but it is in the name. Unfortunately, the kickboxing class is basically just kicking and punching air in a dance-like motion instead of karate chopping elderly members of your gym or dirty Russians.

Gym Friends:
Another advantage when joining a gym is it allows you to make new friends, while at the same time becoming more fit. There are many great people you can meet at the gym. As far as women are concerned, I would stay away from the "ladies" that bench press over 200 pounds because their vaginas most likely could break your penis in half. You can also meet some chill dudes that you can get a beer with after your workout and eventually high-five. These gentlemen are a little different than most guys. They have been spending the better part of their lives trying to fill the void that was left by their unloving fathers with protein shakes and heavy objects. This has made them social inept. The use of big words and sarcasm can anger many of these men, like an irritated rhinoceros, which leads to them smashing your face in and then chest bumping another man in spandex.

Snack Machines:
Most gyms will have vending machines in their facility filled with salty and sweet treats made to tempt you into buying twelve dollars worth of goodness and going home to chow down and watch television without ever working out. Stay away from these evil machines. Most of the food in them is quite old and not nearly as fresh as snacks you can purchase at convenience stores on your way back from the gym. So once you are done working out for almost fifteen minutes, buy some chocolate-covered pretzels from the Circle K and bask in your awesomeness while watching Full House reruns.

Gym Itinerary:
To get into proper shape one must first come up with daily and weekly schedules of what equipment they will be working with. Monday will be cardio, Wednesday will be legs, Friday will be arms, and so on. So come up with a schedule such as this:

  • Arrive at gym ninety minutes later than you told yourself you would.
  • Walk around aimlessly for 10-15 minutes.
  • Take a water break.
  • Spend seven minutes trying to figure out how to work the treadmill.
  • Shield your embarrassment when a gym employee points out the "Start" button right in front of you.
  • Run for three minutes and pretend to pull a muscle.
  • Scream in pain until someone comes to your aid.
  • Pretend to be a bad ass and say something like "Pfft... no big deal. I'm going to hit up the weights now."
  • Take another water break.
  • Curl ten-pound weights and if anyone laughs at you, tell them you are going for tone, not mass.
  • Sit down for twenty minutes and text your friends, telling them that you are busy working out and don't have time to chat, even though it was you that text messaged them first.
  • Do the leg press for ten minutes because its the easiest, plus you get to sit down.
  • Stare at hot girls from afar until they catch you staring at them.
  • Try to impress girls near you by benching 250 pounds.
  • Be rushed to the hospital by paramedics.

  • Nurse your injury and watch DVD's while eating chocolate covered pretzels.

Once again, my superior knowledge on all things will lead you in a horrible positive direction. Remember to high-five, fist-bump and awkwardly hug all of your new gym friends. Looking at yourself in the mirror and screaming is optional, but will get you attention from the lady folk.

Monday, December 7, 2009


I hope everyone had a fun and STD free weekend. For me it was very anti climatic. Whenever I think a night is going to suck donkey testicles it ends up being a great night full of giggles and high fives, but when I have been waiting for something for a while and think it will be "totally awesome," or "righteous," it ends up sucking those same donkey testicles. Either way, I've been working on some new shit, (blogs) but haven't finished anything yet due to me being prone to laziness and searching the internet for gifts that I can give to friends and family. Just kidding. I'll have something new up Monday or Tuesday. Also, follow my blog. (Scroll down, it will be on your right.) It makes me feel better about myself and I only have five followers so far which is quite sad. I know at least seven people read my blog, so get on it people.

Piece out,
(That's how I spelled my name when I was a Freshmen. I thought it was so cool. Which it still is.)

Friday, December 4, 2009


Happy Friday all. I hope you all have a pleasant and drunken weekend during this season of cheer and egg nog. Don't forget to repeatedly ask your Jewish friends what they want for Christmas and then offer a half-hearted apology once they mention for the third time that day that they do no celebrate Christmas. Curse them for killing your lord and then buy yourself a gift instead. I reccomend a remote control helicopter because they are really awesome and you can fly them low to scare school children at parks.

Also, my buddy Raffy writes a pretty clever and funny blog so you should check it out here. (Don't worry, its not in Spanish.)

<3 Paddy

Thursday, December 3, 2009

No. 89 "Fake Facebook For Mom."

About two months ago, my mom decided to take the leap and join Facebook. I helped her set up her profile and find some of her old friends that remember me when I was only "this big." I answered any stupid questions she had and I let her out into the wild. She then tried (and failed) to add me as a friend. My sister and brother folded quickly and eventually became friends with my mom. I refused though, my Facebook is where I go to post drunk pictures, write offensive and/or ironic status updates and stalk hot bitches. I couldn't let my mom into this universe. I can see it now: I post a status about what an awesomely drunk weekend I had and my mom would comment with something like: "Honey, I don't think you should drink so much, and I do not like the women you surround yourself with." Or, just a random post: "Sweetheart, Call your mother. She misses you. Love, Mommy." I can just imagine all the rude and sarcastic comments from my "friends." So I decided to make a fake Facebook profile and add my mom as a friend. I don't think she would notice that she's my only friend on the book of face, but would take comfort in reading my delightful status updates that would go something like this:

"Woke up early this Saturday to do some reading."

"Doing the dishes and not just leaving them in the sink."

"Eating my vegetables. They actually aren't that bad!

"I love my mom!"

"Doing some community service because I love to help others."

"Just met a nice, non-whorish girl. I think I'll bring her over for dinner to meet my mom."

"Got my paycheck today and donated it all to underprivileged children."

"Buying Christmas presents early this year so I don't forget my mom's gift again."

"Watching Everybody Loves Raymond instead of going out and getting intoxicated with my irresponsible friends."

"Just saved a puppy. On my way to return him to his owner."

"Cleaning my room and making my bed."

"Shaving my goatee. Mom was right, it makes me look like a drug dealer."

"Watching a cooking show, they should just take lessons from my mom because she's the best cook ever."

"Brushing my teeth."

"Its chilly out today, I better wear a scarf so I don't catch a cold."

"I got invited on a trip to Las Vegas, but I'm not going to go because I wanted to visit my mom instead. Las Vegas is a bad place anyways."

"Eating a hearty breakfast. It's the most important meal of the day."

"Listening to some Barry Manilow."

"Wearing my SWEET new burnt orange sweater my mom gave me. She's right, it does make me look handsome."

"Abstinence is the way to go!"

"Starting this English paper early so I can have my professor proof read it and give me constructive criticism. That way I can re-edit my paper and get a good grade on it!"

"Getting my oil changed on time this time around. Don't want to go 10,000 miles over again."

"CAN'T WAIT to wake up early for work and do a good job and work hard. That way the boss will notice me and I'll get a promotion."

"Just threw away my XBOX and PS3 because they are time wasters and bad for my vision."

"I don't understand why some people choose to drink more than three beers in one evening. Two beers is more than enough for me."

"I'm going to stop cursing because it makes me seem like I am uneducated and crass."

"Studying instead of going out with friends because I go to college to learn, not to party."

"Doing my laundry so my mom doesn't have to do six loads by herself."

"I quit smoking. It really is a dirty habit and girls hate it."

"Can't wait for Church tonight! Gonna be religi-awesome!"

"Live. Laugh. Love."

Those are just a few of the gems I'll post to trick my mom into thinking I am an upstanding citizen who cares about the community, puppies and other bull shit. She'll buy into it, I'm sure.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009


Hey hey people. I'm making some little changes to my blogizzle. I'm gonna try to update it more often than just two times a week. I'll still post two new full blogs a week but I want to add a little extra as well, like random musings and stuff that isn't long enough to be an actual blog. This will be the first sidebar of many where I update ya'll on some upcoming blogs and get your opinions and what not. So if you have any ideas on blogs you think I should write or just want to tell me I suck, feel free. :) <--- smiley faces are gay. Also, vote on your favorite blog from last month... or die. Next Blog: "Fake Facebook For Mom."

Tuesday, December 1, 2009

No. 88 "Viva Las Vegas."

Ah, Las Vegas, the city of angels. Oh, wait... the city of brotherly love? No, that's not right. Well, its the city of something. Anyway, nothing gets a twentysomething more excited than a weekend trip to Las Vegas with a few of his closest friends and one dude he pretends to like because he's driving. Once you make it to Vegas, though, there is no telling what will happen in those 48 hours, which is why Las Vegas is awesome. Here are a few tips to make your trip to the city of sin even better.

Large Cups of Alcohol:
A twelve ounce cup of beer? What are you, some sort of pussy? 100 ounces or bust! I want my cup to be taller than most toddlers. Who cares if it's forty-eight dollars and is mostly juice, I've got something to prove. Don't you want to take that sweet picture of you and all your buddies holding up your over sized cups in unison? If you are low on cash, you can make your own large cup of alcohol by emptying half of a 2 liter of Pepsi and adding cheap whiskey to it. It may not look as cool, but it'll get the job done. And after drinking the long cup o' alcohol you can use it as a sword to drunkenly fight your friends in the casino before getting kicked out by unamused pit bosses.

Buying Drugs From Friendly Black Dudes:
OK, fine, they aren't all black dudes. Some are Mexican. We all know that if you do drugs in Vegas, it cannot show up on your toxicology report because What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas. Its simple science, really. But you can bet that while you are walking around the strip, a friendly man of color will ask you if you "want to party." When I was approached, I assumed he was inviting me to some sort of suburban house party. But he later explained that "partying" is sniffing cocaine through your nostrils. Pretending to be an undercover cop seems to scare these gentlemen away. Didn't know he could run that fast.

Kind of a strange name for these intelligent young ladies. They don't really escort anyone. Their name should probably be dick suckers or hand job aficionados. Maybe that name doesn't roll off the tongue quite as well, but it makes much more sense. You will find these kind women all over the Las Vegas strip. They tend not to pay much attention to you while you're in the food court eating McDonalds for the third time that day or while winning big at the penny slots. Many of these escorts will pose as legitimate females at clubs and bars, but once you get them into your hotel room for all-night make out session, they will start giving you a price breakdown for her "services." 500 bucks for anal? Not bad at all! Here's my mom's credit card.

It's just like an arcade, but instead of winning tickets, you lose all your money and get dragged and beaten by hotel security whence you throw your glass at the dealer. Everyone seems to have their own system. If its roulette, they always go with black, and after losing five spins in a row they put it all on red, then lose the rest of their money. Sports betting is fun because you get to watch for three hours as your money dwindles away because your favorite basketball player is a "mother fucking piece of shit." Slots are the best because you get to sit down and don't have to be bothered by casino employees trying to wake you up from your drunken slumber. You can also gamble more times for less money. Penny slots!

Bed Situation:
Unless you're one of those guys with a "real job," you'll probably be fitting six guys in a two bed hotel. There are many different ways to figure out sleeping arrangements. You can have a wrestling competition where whoever passes out from a choke hold ends up sleeping where they lay, or you could all bite the bullet and sleep in the same bed as another dude. I know, right now no man would admit to sleeping in the same bed as another dude. But, we've all done it. The floor just isn't that comfortable and if your bodies never touch, its not gay. If they do touch, its not that big of a deal. And if they try to touch your wiener its... oh wait! I'll be sleeping in the bath tub.

This is the best place to pick up chicks/hookers that pretend to be chicks. First, you have to pay the VIP cover. I know $5000 is a little expensive for a couple hours of partying. But, you get two bottles of vodka that retail for a grand total of $80. What a deal! The dress code is a bit different, though. Bouncers will not find it funny if you try to get into the club with a wet swim suit or a souvenir hat. They will probably take away your beer mug sunglasses and tell you that you have to wear dress shoes instead of flip flops. Once you get in though, that's the real fun. Hot girls will come up to your VIP table and be really, really nice. They will be so nice that you will forget that they drank all your vodka and left once you invited them to your super nice room at Circus Circus.

Pitying The Locals:
People that live in Las Vegas are like employees on cruise ships. You think that it would be awesome to live there and party all the time, but you don't stop and realize that once you live in Vegas, there is no going back. Lets forget about the massive drug, gambling and sex addictions that are bound to happen and remember that everyone that lives in Vegas works on the strip. Look it up. These kind souls have to get to serve you breakfast at 4 AM, and are privileged to see you have fun with all your friends while they work the graveyard shift at the Tropicana. Everything is catered to the tourists, while the locals get the scraps. So next time you are doing a line of coke off of a toilet, make sure to clean it up for that janitor that once had big dreams in the city of sin.

Who needs to brush their teeth on vacation? I'm sure all that alcohol will kill my gingivitis. You'll need a couple pairs of underwear though, because there is a ninety five point seven percent chance you will piss or shit yourself during one of your night's stay in the city of sin. And there is nothing more awkward than having to ask a buddy to borrow a pair of boxers. When it comes to contraception, there is no need for condoms or abstinence. The best way to be safe while fornicating is a half-empty Dorito's Salsa Verde bag. It will make sure you don't contract any diseases and it's extra spicy for her pleasure. Your lady friend will thank you after her pelvic exam.

There are some important pointers for going on a trip to Las Vegas. It is important to follow these guidelines if you want your man-cation or impromptu road trip to be a success. There are plenty of places you can go to for 48 hours of fun, but only one place where you can chug over sized guitars filled with liquor, max out your mother's credit card on women of the night, and converse with janitors that catch you railing lines of coke off of toilet seats. After all, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas. Also, don't forget to take a picture of yourself with your arms spread wide as you act like the world is yours while the strip is in the background. Before even taking the picture you know its gonna be your new Facebook profile pic.

Updated 8/4/10
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