Friday, February 26, 2010
Do I care about children in the Congo? Yes. Do I want to stop and talk to you? No. Do I like the smell of patchouli and poo? Not a huge fan. Does that dog look like he hasn’t had his shots? Absolutely. Is his name Kenya? Probably. Would I punch you in the balls if I didn’t think Kenya would attack me? Without a doubt. Do your parents know where you are? Nope. Is your mom worried sick? Heck yeah. Do they regret paying all that money to send you to a small liberal arts college in Maine? You betcha. Is your dad still disappointed you quit the lacrosse team? Dang right. Do white people look good with dreads? Kinda. Are you going to end up starving to death while living with mountain goats in Alaska? Highly likely. Do I like it when people ask and answer their own questions? Shit no. Is that fodder for a future peeve? I don’t see why not.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
You know what sucks balls? Decorative balls. Not only are they not that cool looking, they’re a recipe for social disaster at the inevitable 30-something vino-jam you’re forced to attend. After a couple Shirazes masculinity takes over. Suddenly, you’re juggling them like a freak and dishing no-look dimes to Todd over there in the turtleneck sweater. That puts him in an awkward position because he has to act annoyed even though he wants to play living room wiffle with the salmon plate bat as much as you do. Now your cush 150K-a-year consulting job is in jeopardy because Todd is your boss and Tina demands to see some heads roll for making a mockery of her special night of forced maturity.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Please trust me when I tell you to avoid these like the plague. That is some explosiveness your intestinal tract does not need at this juncture. If you find yourself at or Jose’s Hunan Garden or Mei Mei’s Imperial Cantina, for the love of god, head for the hills. And I’m not talking about Chinese-Mexican fusion, which doesn’t exist but could be awesome if done by the right Mariachi Zen Master. I’m talking about – the left side of the menu is Chinese food and the right side is Mexican. If your Chinese restaurant isn’t cutting it and you make the business decision to start whipping up chimichangas, it means you can’t do either worth a crap. So, if you happen to wander into Pablo’s Golden Panda or Lotus Caliente or Bandido’s Bamboo Palace, knock over some chairs and run screaming out of the place. Especially if it’s a buffet situation, for that is the final element in the perfect storm of agony so violent Senor Buddha himself would cry tears of misery.
Posted by This Guy at 11:35 AM
Friday, February 5, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
If you're anything like me you'll agree that fruit salads are the absolute cat's meow. For my taste, there's nothing like an assortment of wet, pre-cut pieces of nature's candy packaged in an environmentally irresponsible container and ready to be devoured. But why so expensive? We're talking upwards of $8 a pop. Look, I have nine kids - several of which I take financial responsibility for. You think it's easy to tell little Pierre he'll have to go without shoes for a couple months? How about when sweet Mackenzie discovers she has to act sick on field trip day because we can't afford the $5 to go see the monkeys. It's not a good feeling, but I think it's a nice character builder for them. Meanwhile, papa gets to kick back and savor the succulence.
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
I feel like I'm supposed to like him because my dad does. So did his dad and his dad's grandpa before him. But every time I'm unlucky enough to catch him on TV I can't help but think, "Wow, this really is the worst fucking story I've ever heard in my life." Are you supposed to put quotes around something you think? Screw it, I'll check that later. The last Rooney story I watched was about fruit. It went a little something like this: Fruit is fascinating. It comes in all kinds of different shapes and sizes. Sometimes it's big. Sometimes it's small. It also comes in different colors. I generally like fruit that is yellow, like bananas and melons. I don't know what the yellow melon is called, I just know that I like it. They make square watermelons in Japan. I get my fruit at a local bodega. You might say I'm a fruit nut. Is a nut a fruit? I don't even know, but I like both.
Mickey Rooney was a pain in the ass too.
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Monday, February 1, 2010
They actually sell these. People actually buy them. They have the holes, but the tongue is glued to them so it can't speak of the atrocities befalling it. Why don't you just pee on the American flag, wrap it around an apple pie and wing it at a bald eagle while listening to Hendrix's rendition of The Star Spangled Banner while you're at it, Chairman Mao? Oh I see, because you're too busy punching Ronald McDonald in the balls.