Friday, December 30, 2011


One thing about being a magnet of crazy people is that they give me something to blog about.
Alright,  as in my earlier post about the demon child at the mall, I must reiterate that if psychopaths were flies, then I’m the brightest lantern in the fuckin’ world.

So, I finally manage to get out to lunch with my sister and a few of my coworkers from my new job. We meet up at a bar, and as soon as I enter, the craziest dude offers to buy me a drink. After several attempts of shoving the money back in his face, I finally succumb. He said something along the lines of “Let me buy you a drink; I don’t do this often. I just need a place to sit.” It didn’t completely register in my mind to what he was talking about until he planted his insane ass at the same table as us. His monotonous voice first led me to believe it was just a simple speech impediment, but now it is apparent what it’s from (copious amounts of drugs).

Anyway, the events that followed are almost too strange to put into words. Basically, this guy must’ve been on depressants or some eccentric shit because he was absolutely bat-shit crazy.
Through his psychopathic rantings, I learned this much about the dude:

·         He believes he is proclaimed as the world’s biggest douche bag.
·         He hates himself and wishes he would die.
·         He believes/doesn’t believe in Jesus (it’s hazy)?
·         He wanted to be a poet, but his father through away his material whilst calling him a fag.
·         He plays the guitar in a band, I guess?
·         He’s had several jobs; several of which he’s been fired from due to his alcoholism.
·         He’s been to jail several times for drunk driving.
·         He’s going back to jail.
·         He’s going to visit his friend who just had a baby, and they are going to get “shit-faced, do tons of drugs, and eat chicken wings”
·         He hates “spics” claiming that they beat the shit out of him in jail and broke his glasses.
·         He claims to know fluent Spanish, but would only tell me the Spanish term for “faggot.”
·         His favorite third-world leader is “Fu Man Chi.”
·         He thought Gaddafi was a great leader.
·         And his life’s calling his to be a “human servicer”/guitar poet.

I mean, at least this guy knew what he liked and didn’t like. Anyway, before he could be ushered out of the bar by the waitress who finally noticed our desperation, he managed to feel me up several times, steal my tie, and try to give me free money by attempting to stuff it in my shirt pocket. The dude even came equipped with a Charles Manson scar. I mean, I usually know how to conduct myself around crazies, but this guy made me look like a rookie in the field of ‘pwning’ psychopaths.

So, does anyone know where I can get some crazy people repellant because I really, really need that shit, badly.

If you read my blog, expect to hear several more of these stories because they are bound to happen. 

It's because she's a retard.

Slutbook on Manly Clones

Don't ask me about the title. I don't know. Anyway:

I've been reading Facebook statuses once again, and it got me thinking.

Cindy Poostain omg boys are all exactly the same. They are so retarded... like wtf fml. #cantbetrusted #immafaggot like hmu girls!!1

Alright, if you've got a Facebook, you've definately come across these statuses posted by the dumbest slut on land. But, why is it so hard for these girls to realize that the problem may not be the billions of men in the world that somehow wound up being exactly alike? Now, the multitude boys this cesspool has probably put out for all have one thing in common. There is one denominator they all share. They've all been with this same girl. Now, I'm no mathematics major, but if I had to guess, maybe the girl seems to be the issue?

I mean I could be wrong. Maybe every man in the world really is exactly the same. In that case, I actually wouldn't be upset. I mean if I shared any of Tom Brady's qualities, I'd be a very happy man. Ah anyway, bored on my lunch break.

Wednesday, December 28, 2011

Bitchy High Heels

Ladies, no offense but your high heels make you sound like a bitch. I mean on occasion it’s nice to see a woman dressing up and slapping on a pair of clodhoppers, but when you where them in a casual or work related environment, it just doesn’t have the same effect. I mean, a concessionist at the movie theater I work at (last day’s tomorrow!) wears a pair of high heels to work every day. There is nothing in the grimy, concession food industry that can justify you wearing these heels. It’s like I’m running to grab some flour or something for the kitchen and then I hear it. It start in the distance *clop… clop… clop.* I quicken my pace to keep ahead of it, but it only gets louder *Clop, Clop, Clop.* It sounds like a bitch is steadily approaching. Pretty soon I’m at a nervous gallop and, *CLOP! CLOP! CLOP!* The bitch is right behind me! I dive into trash room to avoid getting trampled.

I mean, she’s probably a very nice woman. I’ve never talked to her really. But, damn those fuckin’ high heels make it sound like she’s late for a Red Hat Society meeting. Every ‘clop’ echoes through the halls: *Move bitch, I’m right behind you bitch, Imma rape you bitch.*

And for fucks sake, don’t you dare complain to me about how much high heels bother you. It’s basically the equivalent of me attaching a mouse trap to my ball sack and bitching about it.

It's creepy how the crowd claps in unison as the models ankle bones are pulverized into a fine powder.

Leave Tebow Alohohone!

No talent comedian, Bill Maher, calls out Tim Tebow?

Alright, I think it's time we give Tebow a rest. He may not have the greatest pass percentage in the game, but he also doesn't have the greatest recievers either. Seriously, who does he have? Eric Decker? That's about it. He may not put on the loveliest of performances, but he gets the job done plain and simple.

Besides, his two recent losses were to very good teams: The Buffalo Bills and The New England Patriots (aka 'The Mutha Fuckas', aka 'Dem Boyz', aka 'Straight Up Ballas', aka 'Simply the Greatest Team Ever Constructed in the Game Forever'). He's still a rookie people. Keep that in mind.

Face it. The only reason he has so many haters is because he's a proclaimed Christian. Basically, every hipster liberal in American mocks him for his beliefs as they dance around fires twirling their rain sticks with cow shit smeared on their junk. Since when did it become so wrong to express your beliefs? For crying out loud, this poor kid has more haters than Muhammed Saddam Osama Husein bin Laden.

Anyway, focus on the game you fuckin' haters. If you want to make fun of his above average rookie start, then back it up with something more than bias, hippy bullshit. This is why the NFL is not made for hipsters. I'm not a Tebow lover; I'm just sick of people who know nothing about the game coming out of right field to cash in their counterfeited two cents.

Monday, December 26, 2011

Facebook Complainers

If you are able to translate your biggest problem of the day to Facebook from anything other than a 20 year old public library computer, I regret to inform you that your life is not that bad. Furthermore, you look like a big ol' whiny bitch. So, stop complaining to your friends about your broken iPhone, minor headache, or various other forms of American middle-class problems. Unless the problem has to do with a sweet explosion, an intense car crash, or having to dodge some bullets, I don't want to hear about it.

Also, don't post any of those comments that are like , "OMG! I hate people!! I wish my car wasn't at the bottom of the ocean...fml," than take 40 hours to respond to your friends eager to find out what happened.

And now for a completely unrelated video:

Friday, December 23, 2011

Pokemon Red/Blue "Secrets"

So I’m assuming (or least I hope) that the demographic for readers of my blog are of a mature age. Since that’s most likely the case I’m going to talk about Pokémon today!

I was recently thinking back to my youth and how revolutionary Pokémon was when it came out. I waited in anticipation even when the television only whetted my appetite with commercials bearing no game play but only cartoons of monsters being trapped in cages.

Anyway, the topic of this post has more to do with the effects of Pokémon on the internet community. Does anyone remember while searching for secrets/codes/cheats for Pokémon the absolutely ridiculous, lengthy, disturbing articles you came across? Some of you may know what I’m talking about, but for those who don’t, there were several websites that came out during the period of Pokémon Red/Blue that claimed to reveal secrets in the plot. Anyway, some of this “secrets” claimed that if you did some absurd feat in the game, something incredible would happen that would so divert you from the main story that your head would spin.

A few of the “secrets” I remember reading were:

<!--[if !supportLists]-->1)      <!--[endif]-->If you pressed left and right really fast when you are approaching Prof. Oak after beating the Elite Four, you could break free from the cut scene and move to the side of the trophy room. In the bottom right corner of the room, there is a door that would lead to a whole new Pokéland for of new monster and tougher gym leaders. It’s like two games in one!

<!--[if !supportLists]-->2)      <!--[endif]-->If you do some devastating shit, the next time you return to your house your mom will be dead. But, here’s the twist, her tormented soul will be waiting for you. You will have to use your bench players to take out this bitch’s ghost because for some reason she’s pissed at you. When you beat her, her soul comes to rest and you win shit or something.

<!--[if !supportLists]-->3)      <!--[endif]-->Then finally, the most fucked up one I remember. You do some more devastating shit like catch ‘Missingno.’ and throw him into liquid shit or something. After that, you return home, and your mom says she’s been raped by Prof. Oak. So you go to his house and beat this mutha fucka up. But, he has an arsenal of ridiculous Pokémon, some the likes which have never been seen. Then you beat him, but your Mom’s scars will never heal… since she’s now pregnant!

Anyway, those are just a few of the fucked up “secrets” my fragile mind had to read when I was a wee-little-lad. So, did Pokémon revolutionize games, or did it make way for disguised smut to creep into innocent children’s minds? 

By the way, I searched for a while, but this is the only site remotely similar to the sites I was talking about:

Templet Change

Why? Because I'm bored at work, and I don't give a fuck. Beautiful blue sky, glimmering green grass, and whatever those weed things are called gentle being kissed and dispersed by the wind. If you think that's not epic then you can get the fuck out. Beautiful landscape. Beautiful. #ballsohard

P.S. I need to take a shit, yet everytime I go to the fuckin' bathroom there's someone in one of the two stalls. There's like three and a half people in today. I don't like taking shits 3 feet to the right of some dude.

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Psycho Demon Child

So, strange story I have for you guys today.

I was finishing up the last of my Christmas shopping in the mall. As I was wondering around sucking at shopping, I felt hungry; so, I decided to make a trip to the food court. I ordered from the Thai food place of which I am a regular at sadly enough, and perched my ass at a table. As I was eating and minding my own business, a little Mexican child of about 4 started pounding on the chair next to me while maintaining a dense, death glare at the side of my head. His mother who was about two seats away was facing the other direction, and like a good mother, ignoring that her child exists when he behaves like a psychopath. Anyway, after a solid minute of this, I glanced over at the child and flashed a quick smile and then resumed eating. The kid probably stopped for half a second before he started pounding on the seat again while not once blinking while intently staring at me. But, I kept strong and ignored him by reading some gay advertisement on the table. After about 2 more minutes of this, the kid finally stopped.

"Mommy, mommy. This man beat me!" he yelled. "This man beat me," he continued. His finger was fastened in my direction. Not knowing what to do, I continued eating and refused to give eye contact. After shouting for what seemed the longest 20 seconds of my life, the mother got up and then left. That's it. They just got up and left.

I looked around and caught glimpse of the people surrounding me, and most were giving me the "dese-niggas-is-crazy" look; so, I knew I was in the clear. Also, the food court was packed with screaming children so not to many witnessed the child trying to get me arrested for no reason.

I don't know what it is. No matter where I go, the crazies always seem to find me. I don't know if it's my cologne or the smell of my farts or what. They always seem to single me out of a crowd. These fucking psychos always find me!

Anyway, Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and whatever other holidays there are.
P.S. School's done with. I'm back mutha-fuckas.

Monday, December 19, 2011

Twitter, Just So Y'Know

So basically, I got a Twitter profile with like 2 followers. Just thought I'd let anyone who actually reads this blog know that my Twitter profile name is 'Chiz_Chat'. I'm not huge into updating it because I usually forget that I have it, and I know no one is reading my posts. But, it's a good place to go to see what I'm actually up to in my exhilarating life and to see what my plans for the blog are. The more followers I get, the less I will forget that I have it. Anyway, I'm just giving you guys a heads up. Also, don't be turned off if I show my lack of knowledge about what propose hashtags hold.
In other news... yeah, I don't got much other news. Soon though. Soon.

P.S. Post some feedback or blog ideas on my Twitter, and I promise you I will weigh in on your ideas.

Saturday, December 17, 2011

Good News and Papers on Pedos

Hello to you and you,

Alright I'm almost done with school. Got an incredibly 1 page out of 10 done for my paper on the Supreme Court's stance on 'virtual child' pornography due Thursday (no. I didn't come up with the topic myself). But, I'm coming down to the wire, and I will soon be able to rip my head out of my asshole, take a shower, and get back to splooging nonsensical words onto this otherwise unpopular blog. In even better news, I have a full-time job in Boston so you know what that means right? Of course you don't. I'll have more opportunities to write blogs on the train. That means a new blog post almost every day starting Jan. 3rd! Get excited children!

Anyway, after reading several documents on 'virtual child' pornography (basically advanced CGI pictures or young-looking adults according to the court), I'm am still very fuckin' confused on whether this shit is illegal or not. Is it illegal under federal laws but not in the court? I don't fuckin' know. Damn judicial system and its confusing, unnecessary choice of words. Why can't they just blatantly say whether it's illegal? Anyway, I chose this topic out of a list the professor gave us. I thought it would be the easiest to argue. I now feel very creepy and regret my decision wholly. Anyway, I'm not gone. I'll be back with a vengeance or something cliche and gay.

And, like always when my blogs contain not actual content. Here's a funny video:
Scarily accurate.

Thursday, December 15, 2011

I Can't Even...

Stark has released one of his new prototypes to the public. If I ever get rich, fuck buying a house. I'm pouring all my dough into investing in one of these psycho machines:

I swear if I had one of these, I'd be the first to travel around the world with it.

Accepting all donations starting now.

Monday, December 12, 2011

I'm a Big ol' Poofaht

Sorry I've been lacking on the updates recently. Finals week is coming up, I working on hopefully gaining a new career, and I got bit by a tick so I think I'm dying. Anyway, December 22nd is when I'll flush all my excuses down the toilet and get back to writing about stupid shit that nobody cares about.

Over n' out.

P.S. I've been trying to upload some pics of Occupy Boston from my phone, but my phone randomly started blowing big peeps. But when I manage to get them on the internet, I will upload them along with a very late and untimely blog. Get exciteeeedddd ohboi!

Friday, December 9, 2011

Hollister Poop

(Took me forever to think of that title)

I know it may be hard for you to admit it, but have you ever stepped foot in a Hollister clothing store? I’m sure many of you have seen them as they are basically the punk teen driver of the mall store community. They blast music with their windows wide open and frequently showcase half naked men. Anyway, if you’ve been in one then you most likely notice they’re extreme marketing flaws such as an eerie darkness that’s so black that you actually think you look good in the clothing until you walk out the door (On second thought, that’s more of ingenious than flawed). Also, the music is turned to a velocity that makes it impossible to ask any questions to the otherwise clueless employees while the perfume makes it incapable to emit words out of your face hole. I feel like a fucking Helen Keller when I enter that place.

Now all you Hollister employees are probably thinking to yourself: “Oh this Chiz-guy must be jealous of our extremely good looks. Dat’s why he’s hating” *commence high five*. Well although some of that may be true, I feel as though I’m entitled to such mockery because *dun dun dun* I was an employee myself *gasp*. I know, it’s hard to believe that a child such as I would be allowed into such a prestigious position as a Hollister rep, but unfortunately, it happened.

Their obsession of accurate clothes folding that borders OCD and their extremely shallow view on customers became very irritating at times, but I managed to stay employed there for a whopping 5 months despite my apparent lack of folding abilities.

Anyway, what really made this job was the increasing sense that I did not belong there. Mothers would come up to me wielding jeans and pressing them against my temple would ask “do you think these would look good on my 14 year old daughter!?” Since it was (I think) illegal for a 22 year old man to answer that, I would cleverly answer there question with another question: “I don’t know. What does she like?” Genius, I know.

Well, I forgot why I started writing about this subject. I think it was pretty much my lack of ideas today due to my severe sleep deprivation. Anyway, long story short, they didn’t exactly fire me. They kind of just pretended they didn’t recognize me when I transferred back to my original store.

On top of all that, they promote bestiality:

P.S. I know I’m a hypocrite. If anything, I’m more judgmental than these Hollister employees. Also, not all of them were really all that bad. I just like being a dick I guess. I don’t know.

Wednesday, December 7, 2011

African Facebook

(My best attempt at concocting a Facebook status update)

Oseye Saburi
       Roasted malaria and sand for dinner! (posted at 9:37PM)
Jibade Omariba   Ah screw you!!1 I had nothing again… fml (posted at 9:40PM)
Radhiya Zuri   Well at least you didn’t have insurgents shoot up your hut (posted at 9:42PM)
Oseye Saburi   Not feeling very well… (posted at 10:03PM)
Jibade Omariba   Oh guess it’s better that I didn’t eat again lol (posted at 10:06PM)
Radhiya Zuri   ring worm again? (posted at 10:08PM)
Cindy Smith   fuck I no exactly how you guys feel. My iphone shit the bed in the middle of    philosophy class. God does prof Higgins have an annoying voice… hmu <3 (posted at 10:17PM)

Monday, December 5, 2011

Random Blog Promotion

In attempt to try and reel in more traffic to my blog, I’ve come to the realization that my blog is next to impossible to search for on any blog directory. The reason for this is when I am asked to choose from a list of specific categories my blog falls under, it doesn’t fit any of them. There is no category labeled “random shit.” I mean, I could always select a category that normal people would visit such as “news” or “family,” but I’m not a deceiver. This is what brings me to the argument: why must a blog have a specific focus?

I believe that bloggers should write about anything that pops into their head that they deem somewhat interesting. I mean music and news is great, but after a while you have to get the urge to write about something with tenacity, something worth going on a tangent about. I don’t know why people feel it’s taboo to write about whatever bullshit arises in your fucked up head. On another note, how do these people writing about how wonderful their family is get so many followers? Is there something so mysterious about an American, middle-class, white family?

“Little Jimmy finally wiped his own ass today. My breath was taken away as I realize he almost completely rid himself of all poo stains. He didn’t need to tag me until the very end.” Great, Sarah! That’s fuckin’ awesome! I’m glad your family is so wonderful. If only all families were as pure and righteous as yours!
Anyway, I don’t know what people find so interesting about those blogs. I guess it can be compared to reality shows on MTV (except these blogs leave out all the good shit like fighting, deception, and verbal insults leading to reevaluating of one’s self).

Also, why do so many blog promotion tutorials believe that blog posts should be short? I’m going to make my rant as long as I damn well please. I know it doesn’t make sense that I have so much shit to rage about seeing as I have no legitimate problems in my life, but… Yeah, I got nothing to back that up with. Anyway, back to my point. Bloggers should have no limits to their writing. How are you going to learn to expand your boundaries in real life if you can’t even go buck wild on a webpage reserved for you and only you?

I know none of this makes sense which is probably the real reason I have no followers. Anyway, my point is blogs about random shit shouldn’t be so hard to promote because they have diversity.

P.S. This woman here would make a much more interesting blogger than any of these fairy queens:

Sunday, December 4, 2011

Dare to Dream

Never give up on your dreams.
You can do anything.

P.S. Tomorrow another one of my overly popular, lengthy rants will be posted. To the millions of people who read my blog, try to hold the poop in your butt hole.

Friday, December 2, 2011

So-Called Great Thinkers

(unrelated) There is nothing more frustrating than being denied Magna Cum Laude because of a philosophy class. Not that it was really all that important, but Philosophy! Really! I took this class because is useless, and you can bullshit your way to an A. I was on the path to getting an A (which I need to get Magna Cum Laude) until I received my most recent test score, which most likely bumped my grade down to a B. (unrelated)

But, surprisingly, that’s not what angers me most. It’s the fact that the teacher favors these philosophy majors in my class for their superior wisdom (or so they’re taught to believe). I can’t help but notice that these philosophy majors chose this line of study only because they are at a loss of something they actually excel in. Half these students were little pompous shits before they enrolled in college, but now that they’ve been taught how to be “great thinkers,” they’ve found the great poop fountain of enlightenment which supposedly allows them to critically analyze all aspects of life through a third eye. Alright, I shouldn’t be the first to say that everyone has the cognitive capacity to thoroughly analyze some aspect of life and shit out a bogus conclusion that’s never been thought of before. That doesn’t make you a “great thinker” it just makes you an asshole with a depressing sense of superiority.

Dear Philosophy Majors,

I realize it’s ignorant of me to include you all in this concentrated cloud of poofahts. I know there are some of you who study this field for the same purpose that someone studies history. But, I believe that you must realize by now that that’s the case, for there isn’t a broad base of careers in Philosophy. Again, I apologize to the truly “enlightened” ones.


Now that that’s out of the way, the rest of you assholes need to cut the crap and erase your passive superiority complex. You’re not an individual in a world of sheeple. Everyone thinks the same thoughts as you, you’re just too arrogant to realize. Stop judging people for being “simple-minded” and start using your “incredibly advanced state of minds” to philosophize the fact that everyone thinks as you do but are humble enough to keep it to themselves.

P.S. Don’t get me wrong, Philosophers have shaped the way we incorporate modern science. However, ignorant as it is for me to say, modern science can no longer be improved by philosophy, only first-hand experimentation of proposed hypotheses. And, don’t say hypotheses are a form of philosophy; that would be like saying “where’s the shitter?” is philosophical question.
Sorry I’m such an asshole.

Wednesday, November 30, 2011

Black and Red Friday

Man dies after collapsing in shopping center during Black Friday (Link)

Phew, and I thought America was beginning to have a soul. Am I seriously the only one that sees this coming every Black Friday? Have these department stores realized that they need stationed guards and mounted turrets to keep these fuckin’ animals under control? You think they’d learn.

And I can definitely imagine the thoughts of the soulless shoppers that passed over the poor man’s body. “Was that a dead guy? Ah well, I’m too far past him. The next customer will help him out.” Oh, and future warning to those of you with heart conditions: You wouldn’t put yourself in the midst of a herd of buffalo. Why is this situation any different? Animals are animals.

P.S. At least this man had some good taste. It was Target he was at after all.

The Sandman's a Dick

So, I’m almost too tired to write a blog post today. If I stop making sense (which is nothing unusual for me) ignore it. Anyway, my state of condition has actually brought about my choice of topic for today: an expression of my unbelievable hatred towards whoever it was that decided that America should start working long before the sun comes up.

Every morning I venture into Boston for work, the owls are still hooting and coyotes are howling. Now, I’m not positive, but I’m pretty sure that colonial America used to use the appearance of the sun in the morning as a sign that it’s time to get to work. Fuck, our forefathers probably did the same shit. I thought we were supposed to be a progressive nation, yet we are subjecting ourselves to abnormal and probably unhealthy sleep patterns. How are we supposed to create more Steve Jobses when we are numbing our minds by lack of sleep?

I would prefer to wake up and see the sun smiling in my face and birds chirping: “Chiz! Chiz! Oh, what a glorious morning to make progress in your otherwise dull, meaningless life!” Instead, I got crickets and owls talking shit about me: “What’s this piece of shit doing up at this time? This is our time to chill and shit, and this muthafucka’ is ruining it.” Getting up this early isn’t only detrimental to my psyche but also the animals’ chill-time.

So, who the fuck woke up at 4:00am one day and said, “well, I’m up…” The only rational conclusion I can conjure up is that one day, Billy was frightfully awoken by the scariest dream ever. He couldn’t stand being in his house because it related too much to his nightmare. So, Billy got out of bed and went to work early. Billy’s boss, Barney, caught wind of Billy’s supposed enthusiastic willingness to start the work day early from the office fat mouth, Becky. Barney was so inspired by Becky’s account of Billy’s initiative, that he forced every other employee to come in at the same time. Surrounding companies heard that their competition was getting more shit done through this new initiative; therefore, they instituted the same fuckin’ shit, and it spread like herpes. Companies began fucking each other and had shit babies with dumb shit gahhh.

Anyway, I think it’s silly, plain and simple.

Monday, November 28, 2011

Occupy This

The content of today’s rant is regretfully less frivolous than those previous. I know I said I would never dabble with politics, and I aim to keep that promise. The fragile topic of this post is the Occupy movement. But, don’t fret, I will attempt to keep my political views concealed and solely criticize the unfortunate course this protest has taken.

When the protest began, it was to my understanding that the 99% included all citizens under the wealthy 1%. However, recent events have shown that a majority of protesters have forgotten this. The activists believe that anyone who opposes their point of view is included in this 1% no matter their wage. I’m going to pull some South Park shit and urge them to rethink their campaign if this is what they hold true. It seems that the majority of Occupy now believes in the 70% and the 30%.

However, is this a result of a protest that has become tragically misinterpreted? I should tell you now that I work in the Financial Reserve Building by South Station in Boston. The site of Occupy Boston is located right out from of my place of work. Therefore, I can testify that the progression of this movement has been horrifically damaged and overrun by pseudo bohemians and uninformed extroverts. I walk by the site nearly every day and I see protesters waving their arms emphatically and twirling around most likely due to some psychedelic trip. I even see activists performing rain dances. These extreme leftists seem to disparage all religions, yet they resort to pagan rituals themselves. It’s pretty fuckin’ odd if you ask me.

Also, when this movement appeared in Boston, every day I worked I would see coordinated marches and speeches. Now, all I see is tattered tents and tumbleweeds. Don’t blame it on the weather either; it’s been beautiful in Massachusetts this winter.

I believe that Occupy is now stacked to the brim with unknowledgeable hipsters and drug traffickers. This video below proves my point:

What got me started on this topic today was after getting my 5th medium-blueberry-iced-coffee-with-milk-n-sugar I happened to witness one of the protesters approaching a nearby police officer to report a theft within the site. This frustrated me because these people are doing unto each that which they accuse the 1% of doing. They are receiving donations from several localized businesses, but they seen to lack restraint in delivering harm unto each other.

Void of whether I support these ideas of not, Occupy needs to get its shit together. Also, sorry I'm so unorganized with my rants.

I’m sorry that I’m not sorry if I’ve offended anyone. But, I am sorry for writing about serious stuff. On a lighter note, anyone think that King Hyperion is the most badass villain to hit the theaters since Heath Ledger’s Joker?

Friday, November 25, 2011

Silly Cat Videos

As you can tell by the videos I post, I am unhealthily addicted to retarded videos on YouTube. Have you every been surfing YouTube, and wind up on something so completely unrelated to what you were additionally looking for that you begin rethink your life? Well on this fine morning I started looking at trailers for The Divide (which looks like a great movie I might add). I then obviously migrated over to the part of YouTube featuring talking animals (who could resist), and finally ended at what appears to be the end to all ends of YouTube: silly cat videos. I'm not even a huge cat fan; I just find the videos fucking unbelievably hilarious.

It has been a whole hour, and I have not left my bed. I think I may have discovered the downfall of civilization.

Thursday, November 24, 2011

Happy Thanksgiving!

I just wanted to wish everyone a Happy Thanksgiving, and for those intellectual pseudo bohemians who believe that Thanksgiving is a holiday all about robbing Native Americans of their land, you've got it wrong, this is about giving thanks for the things you have. You're thinking of Columbus Day; that shit's passed. If you're going to try to ruin Thanksgiving for everyone, meet up with all your extroverted friends and go boycott something by starving yourselves or whatever it is you things do. To all you who are celebrating the holiday like a true American: Happy Thanksgiving! Go stuff your faces!

This video makes me cry every time:
If you didn't shed a tear for this poor girl, you are a monster.

Monday, November 21, 2011

Again, Sorry

Once again, the evil demon of procrastination has got the best of me. I am also once again sorry for the terrible blog entry. I have horrific bags under my eyes; so, I'm going to make this quick before I turn into a cartoon character.

My brain is sore from the overload of bullshit. No, it's not aching from the intake of bullshit rather the output. What could cause this rare event of overflowing bullshit expel-age? My Western Philosophy paper of course! Similar to my blog post dismantling the inspiration of poetry, philosophy requires the same vomit meets paper technique. I have no idea what the hell I'm talking about in the paper, but let's leave it to the good old excuse: "I'm leaving it up to interpretation."

And, since I let you guys down once more, here's a silly video to make you giggle:

The only thing that got me through that paper was imagining this is how Socrates truly was.

Saturday, November 19, 2011

To The Few

Sorry, I haven't been updating my blog as much as I'd been hoping to recently (Although it's not like anyone is noticing). I'm busy attempting to do something with my life... Actually, that's a lie. I've just been busy with the two jobs on top of school. But don't you fret my imaginary internet friends. I fully graduate college in December and will have plenty of time to sit on my deflated ass and rant about more trivial things.

P.S. What's with 90% of my viewers being from Russia all about? It says my blog is being linked from sites displaying videos all about conspiracy theories. I hope I'm not relaying my democratic views to these commies, and I certainly hope I'm not considered a threat to any international governments.

Anyway, I will keep posting. I just won't be posting many of my typical long, drawn-out rants.

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Death Metal Rooster

Seeing as there are countless blogs devoted to Death Metal, I'm deciding to sell out by offering a video that most of you blog surfers will enjoy.

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

[Insert Title Here]

I can’t stand when I am moving around the blogs on this site and I encounter countless blogs with the title literally being “[Enter Brilliant Title Here]” or other variation of the same concept. Why one person’s lack of creativity drives me so insane is beyond me. Maybe it’s due to the fact that these so titled blogs usually contain entries of some lame family talking about how their children’s bowel movement went that day. Granted, no one likes my blog or even knows it exists, but at least ‘m making an effort to provide whoever happens to stumble upon this monstrosity with some original content. Believe me, I’ve tried finding blogs that share the same distorted views on trivial things as I do. But, try as I may, the only blogs that are constantly reoccurring are the people attempting to make their uninteresting family relevant, dedications to satanic metal, or numerous Muslim rantings.

Monday, November 14, 2011

Proper Popcorn Etiquette

Popcorn by jayneandd
Popcorn, a photo by jayneandd on Flickr.
Have you ever graciously shared a bowl of popcorn with your friend and have them disrespect you for it? Well that’s how I feel when I’m shoveling down popcorn and my popcorn partner disrupts me by rudely saying “Why do you eat popcorn by the handful,” as their limp, faggy hand grabs one piece at a time. Is there any other way to eat popcorn other than by the handful?

You don’t eat M&Ms one at a time; excavators don’t grab one grain of sand at a time; ravenous wolves don’t munch on deer blood cells one at a time. I’m fuckin’ hungry and if you think I’m gonna eat my popcorn like a snooty fairy king then you can go microwave your own bag. There is no enjoyment in eating popcorn one at a time because as soon as it touches your tongue is dissolves into nothingness wherein all you end up swallowing it slightly salty spit. It’s offensive.

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Guide to Becoming Famous Poet

You want to be a world famous poet? No? Well no one gives a shit which is why I’m giving you people the gift of my foolproof, 5 step guide to making girls swoon and dudes do whatever they do when they read poetry. Prepare to detoxify all metha-don’ts and inject your mind with LSD (Literary Science… Dicks).

1) If it doesn’t make sense, you’re doing it right.

Choose any world renowned poet and analyze their highest regarded piece. Do you find yourself finding many interpretations and alternate views to a simple verse? The more a poem is open to interpretation, the greater attention it receives.
Therefore, do as most famous poets do and write a completely nonsensical arrangement of phrases. It doesn’t matter what order it’s in, it just matters that it looks like the structure that a typical poem would hold. Take my example for instance: “The rooster crows loudest in the East.” I just made that phrase up, but most overanalyzing literary scholars would attempt to find some hidden meaning. The simple truth is, I thought it sounded cool. I have no clue what I mean by this. When asked what you mean by this puzzling phrase, say, “I cannot reveal such details as it open for all interpretations.”

2) Use big, confusing words.

If you succeed in making the audience feel stupid, then you’re on the right path. Take a look at my next example: “Brandished by the unforeseeable light, the vicar brought forth his heavenly projection.” Do these words work together in this context? Are these words even real? I don’t know, but I think it sound pretty fucking smart. Remember, a thesaurus is your best friend.

3) Leave the rhyming to Dr. Seuss.

Ever wonder why poets often don’t rhyme in their works? It’s probably because they’re too high or lazy to do so, right? Well, yeah, pretty much, but they also do so to not sound childish (at least that’s what they say). Don’t burden yourself with thought; just write. If you’re spending more than 3 minutes on a poem then you’re thinking waaaay too much.

4) Capitalize random words.

This step works much in the same as step 1. If I take my example from before and capitalize a word, it brings about a whole other way of interpreting my meaningless sentence. For instance: “The rooster Crows loudest in the East.”

5) Originality is better kept in your butt hole where it belongs.

Stick to the basics: love, love lost, nature, some gay beauty thing. No one has ever gotten far by                        writing about what hair products Hitler used. I know originality is always taught to the young boys and girls, but fuck that useless shit and save yourself the trouble. Famous poetry is completely void of uniqueness.

The finish product should look something like this:

(P.S. Titles don’t matter. Make something up…

“The rooster Crows loudest in the East,”
Said the Father unto his child.
Brandished by the unforeseeable light,
The vicar brought forth his heavenly Projection.

The adolescent treaded through the river,
Unknowing of what his father bestowed upon him.
The current pressed Hard against his fragile mind.
The boy thought his Will might shatter under the pressure.

He found an elevated point in the river.
As he propped himself up, the sky sank closer.
And over the turmoil and Chaos of the rushing water,
He could hear the faint caw of a Rooster.

Okay, I timed myself and that took about 4 minutes. A bit longer than I had expected, but you guys will surely rush through these poems with more practice. Bullshitting is an art my friends. Now go and awe the literary world with your brain farts.

Friday, November 11, 2011

The Anatomy of Farts

Alright, so I have a job at the Federal Reserve Building in Boston. It’s veteran’s day and there are hardly any people in the building. I was even one of the last to leave the office. Anyway, let me get to the point. So, I’m leaving the office when I have the sudden urge to fart. I don’t like holding in my farts because they give me a tummy ache. It’s probably vital to tell you at this point that I do not know how to burp; therefore, the only way for me to expel gas is out my butthole. Nevertheless, I reach the elevators at 4:45pm. Usually on Fridays the elevator makes a straight B line to the bottom floor as everyone has usually left by now. I enter the elevator and the vent is blaring… perfect condition to release. As soon as the doors close I shoot the fahts out my ass. The elevator stops moving… but at a snail’s pace. Why you ask? Because of fuckin’ course it stops at the next floor. An old woman steps on the elevator. It’s starts to move again, and meanwhile, the woman is violently sniffing the air to let me know she smells my fumes. Whatever, what’s one person to think I’m inhumane. But then, the elevator stops at another floor… and then another floor. Pretty soon the elevator is full of snobby business men loudly sniffing my fahts. “What’s that smell?” each of the business people utter as they continue to pile on the elevator. I lied in agreement “Yeah, it smells like fahts doesn’t it?” They could all see through my lies; I was sure of it. Finally, after what appeared to be an elongated process of marinating in my own poop soup, the elevator reached the ground floor. The doors opened, and the people fled as heat from my fahts hit the cold air of the lobby and created a violent front.

I mean, that’s basically my story. However, the reason I relayed you that wonderful and magical story is to ask you this question: Why is it that every time you fart, there is always someone close by to come barging in to witness it?

It always happens to me. I’m at work, in the break room; no one has shown for several minutes. I take it as my chance to let loose. The sick heat seeps out my butthole, and as soon as the smell fills the air, some creeping person opens the door.

I feel like there is some sort of scientific explanation for this. There has got to be. I feel like human farts contain a hormone that attracts other surrounding people. If anyone knows anything about this, please clear the air (pun completely intented).

P.S. If you’re wondering why I switch from ‘fart’ to ‘faht’ at points well… it’s essentially for my own amusement. I feel like the different dialects act in various ways. Put simply, I’m a fucking lunatic who laughs to himself in public.

Thursday, November 10, 2011

Big Trucks, Big Wheels

Being a man who drives a Nissan Versa doesn’t exactly elevate my manliness factor to the highest degree, but as you are about to see, these big, rustic pick-up trucks aren’t the epitome of manliness either. Now, don’t get me wrong, carpenters, construction workers, landscapers, and other such workers have every right to own a pick-up truck. In fact, they need it. But, it is a select few people who completely ruin my image of people who drive trucks: Those who purchase trucks to boost their “manliness.” Here’s what I mean:

Picture a college student by the name of Chet. Chet is an over-privileged child whose parents pay for everything. Chet hates gays and all races. To assert his manliness and compensate for his lack of social skills and penis size, Chet uses his parents’ money to buy a big ass truck. This truck guzzles 3 gallons to the mile and, by itself, contributes to 7.3% of the world’s noise pollution. But, despite the economic and  environmental issues that accompany this slow moving hunk of machinery, Chet takes pride in his truck as he scoffs at all the sedans and hatchbacks that speed by him on the highway has he pushes his truck to the limits.

Why does Chet feel he is entitled to such superiority of mankind? Because trucks prove to be the iconic symbol of the physically embodied working man. Even though Chet works part-time at his father’s company filing papers, Chet wishes to include himself in this group (One can see this as an extension of my Northern Redneck rant, but it’s a case I must argue in its own).

Well let me tell you this, my car will last at least 100,000 miles more than any truck. My car gets 31 mpg. It can go above 60 mph. I don’t need to compensate for shit. Therefore, in the long run, my car will keep me financially stable while maintaining speedy access from point A to point B.

So all you assholes who think owning a truck automatically makes you the essence of manliness, have fun living in a pick-up truck down by the river. Plain and simple, if you don’t actually need a truck for the purpose in which it was created, stick to a car that will conceal your douche baggery and expenses.

Wednesday, November 9, 2011

Movie Review: In Time

I get free movie tickets because I work at a cinema. Despite that fun fact, I’ve never felt the need to walk out of a movie… until was subjected to “In Time.”

I initially thought it was going to be a great movie. Justin Timberlake plays the main role, and there isn’t a thing he’s not incredible at. Well, at least that’s what I thought. As soon as the movie began and I heard JT utter his first line, I immediately thought to myself, “wow, Justin isn’t acting very well.” I think we have finally discovered the one thing that JT isn’t good at. That is acting in this particular movie.

I also figured it was a pretty original movie idea. However, I realized that I already think of currency in terms of time. For instance, I bought Modern Warfare 3 yesterday and pooped my pants a little when I realized it is costing me an entire work day to pay for this (I got Elite cause I’m aweso—a sucker). So we can cast aside that notion.

Now, besides the horrendous acting, let me guide you through the rest of the reasons that drove me to prematurely leave.

I realize that clichés are unavoidable and sometimes necessary to convey a point in most movies. However, when entire dialogues are composed of nothing but cliché lines, it’s hard to take the characters seriously. The following is essentially the jist of most of the dialogues:

Fuck 1: “That’s a nice watch you have.”
Fuck 2: “I get that a lot.”
Shitstain 1: “Can you tell me the time?”
Fuck 2: “It’ll cost you a minute or two.”
Shitstain 1: “I got all the time in the world.”

I’m sorry, but that is basically the formula to which every conversation was comprised of.

Aside from my distant stance from the characters, there wasn’t any action in the first 45 minutes or so I saw of the movie. It was the same conversation over and over again. Finally, when we made the decision to leave the theater, a chase scene commenced. Finally, this is what we’ve been waiting for. However, after the 20 second chase scene, a car careens off the highway and is brilliantly displayed in some of the worst special effects I’ve seen in the past decade. SciFi channel originals put more time into their graphics. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not an asshole who’s obsessed with special effects; I’m an asshole who is bothered by poorly constructed special effects.

I could keep going about the overall poor quality of this movie. But, my train’s about to hit the station so I’ll bottle up my rage and let it loose on someone’s dog later (I fucking love dogs; I would never do that).

Bottom line: Don’t waste your…time… on this movie.

Overall rating: 6 poofahts.

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Drunk Facebooking is So Cool

Steven Chisholm wrote: “Woaaah… I’m so drunk!!!1 I can barly speel I’m so drunk!. Man My lyf is so coo! Wah I’m such an alcoholic! hmu”

Yep… That’s the issue I’m taking on today… The drunk Facebook update. Now, as you well know by now, I’m the one to get worked up over the stupidest shit, and this is no exception. Of course all you Facebook users out there are well aware of the various statuses that socially deprived users are capable of posting. We’ve got the “I’m-ugly-please-tell-me-I’m-pretty” status, the “boys/girls-are-all-stupid” status, the “desperate-plea-for-help-due-to-some-minor-negative-occurance-in-my-otherwise-incredibly-opportunistic-life” status, and the obviously reoccurring “here’s-some-song-lyrics-to-express-my-depression” status. But, out of endless cesspool of attention whoring updates, the one that pops the most blood vessels are the “I’m-drunk-I-have-a-life-I-swear” statuses.

“Why, Chiz! How come you don’t just ignore them if you hate them so much?”

Good question stereotypical dumb respondent. However, the answer is… because I have a big heart. What am I talking about you ask? Well, whilst scrolling down my news feed, I come across these statuses displaying horrendous spellings and emitting an aura of desperate struggle. I immediately think: “Holy shit, someone’s having an epileptic seizure. This person needs help!” I halt my scanning of the news feed to frightfully locate clues of the whereabouts of this person or some other floating hint of their distressed situation. Panicking, I finally come to the conclusion that this person—this… fraud—is simply creating a ploy for attention. But, I’m not angry at how I responded to the update. No, I’m angry at how well the status performed its goal of forcing me to read it. Now I’ve got this image of a lonely drunk at a party Facebooking on his phone, a sober child who’s trying to gain attention, or some clam cake drinking by himself in my mind. It’s frustrating. Forget that important subject I was thinking about before. I can kiss those thoughts goodbye. Now, I’m focused on this monstrocity of a status. It enrages me… I’ve already forgot what I was writing about it worked so well.  Bah, well that’s about it. The vents are clogged.

Monday, November 7, 2011

Most Horrific Diss in History

Smoking pot never looked so uncool.

He's going to need a glacier to ice that burn. Little do people know that this commercial stopped airing because the drug dealer died from 3rd degree burns. Who's the true killer here? I am so funking tired.

P.S. Michelangelo is clearly blasted and has the munchies.

Indestructible iPods

I picked my iPod out of the washing machine the other day. I read the dark error message on the screen that was clouded by the iPod’s newly acquired water stain. However, for a change, I wasn’t ferociously infuriated. I looked back on how many times the iPod should’ve been destroyed in the past:
  1. Whilst driving on the highway, I reached for my iPod that was attached to a wired cassette. You     know,    because such an advanced piece of technology asks for the company of primitive machinery to level out the coolness. Well, when I couldn’t locate the iPod, I decided to follow the cassette cord. To my surprise, the cord let out of my car door and into the harsh blizzard that was raging outside my vehicle. I quickly open the door while flying down the highway and reeled in my iPod which was somehow connected to the cassette. It was covered in snow so I brought out my technological familiarity and devised the perfect plan to blow on it until it was dry. And since I’m such a genius, once the iPod rid itself of all the snow forced into its hardware, it began working again.
  2. Once more, a trip through the washing machine, and in addition, the dryer.
  3. Multiple launches off of treadmills. 
  4. Several high dives into varying depths of puddles.
  5. Torturous water logging from spilt beverages.
  6. …and the general wear and tear that comes from high altitude drops onto concrete,
Anyway, I was ready to say goodbye to my courageous iPod. I couldn’t blame it for leaving at this point after all I had put it through. So, I did what any good person would do, and I laid it to rest on the floor in my room. Hours passed. Much television was watched. But it was 4am, and that meant it was time for bed. So I ventured up to my room and saw the lifeless shell of a once brilliant piece of technology. I picked it up to give it one more look… when all of a sudden. The iPod awoke from its slumber. A beam of light projected from the screen, and I had to shield my eyes. Once they had adjusted to the glow, I stared down and my iPod was already playing Don’y Wanna Stop Me Now. It was then I discovered the most indestructible matter in the universe.

Now, I propose this my friends:

In the future, after we are discovered by a more advanced light form and become extinct after the 20 day world war. The Earth will be void of everything… everything but cockroaches fashioning sick iPods. So, whatever matter these iPods are fused with, why not inject it in the human skeleton. Think of the new extent of the human condition! We will understand true and everlasting life!  No longer shall we worry about the future! We will rule the present!

Yeah, that’s all I got today. Sorry.

Conspiracy of 'Rest'

 rest (n.) 1. the refreshing quiet or repose of sleep (Definition from

There's something ecoustically pleasing in the word 'rest'. Despite its flow, why are so many lacking in 'rest'? I will show you:

Say 'rest' repeatedly fast like so: 'restrestrest'

Do you notice something offsetting? Well, you should because saying rest in such a manner gives the illusion that you are repeatedly saying 'stress'. (stressstressstress)

There's something sinister in the word 'rest'. There is a conspiracy that's only solution requires the abolishment of the word. For this word has adverse effects on the human psyche.

Sorry, I'm stuck in my tiny cubicle. I will post a more extensive and thoughtful blog later. Hope I didn't waste too much of your time.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

The Pen Trick

Brilliantly constructed rhetoric of the construed mindset of a tortured Irish news anchor.

You can't argue with that logic.

The Undeserving Citizen Kane

Take a gander at any movie database or film critic website. Why is it that Citizen Kane is still rated the best film of all time? I vaguely remember having to slam my head against the desk to keep myself from slipping into a coma while being forced to watch this monstrosity in one of my college film classes. Why is this movie still critically acclaimed? It fucking enrages me.

First, let’s all take a look at the premise of this movie. Sure, the story of a big shot newspaper executive sounds like the makings of a genius movie plot, right? Just kidding, that’s a terrible idea. But why are we honoring a movie based on unrealistically accumulating wealth? Sorry Tiny Tim, no wealthy man is ever going to come take you from your shit parents and turn your shit life into a vast landscape of unimaginable wealth, castles, and rainbows. No, fuck you Kane with your unobtainable ambitions.

 If children in the upcoming generation realize this wealth is out of reach, they’re going to construct unbelievable elaborate crimes to obtain this wealth. If Kane enjoyed himself that much in the 1920s, think of the shit we can do with that wealth now. So much electronic shit. I can turn my mansion into Tron then construct a reenactment of the Battle of Helmsdeep with midgets equipped with tazers. Shit’s nuts. Anyway, the movie’s a menace to modern society and stuff.

But my main argument against this movie comes from the ending. Yes, the ending was ridiculously bad. Rosebud is a fucking sled? Are you kidding me? I mean, I know it represents his loss of childhood and innocence, but who the fuck would want his shitty childhood over immense riches? But, no… That’s not the true reason this movie sucks. A lot of other films pull that same morality crap. It is the sole fact that the ending of this mystery, this MYSTERY, was the use of a scapegoat. Not once in the movie was it referenced that the sled’s name was Rosebud. There is no way the audience could partake in this “epic” mystery for the only one who had any hint towards the ending was the selfish screenwriter himself. But yeah, those are my basic rants about the film. It sucks, and it should be held with such esteem.

Saturday, November 5, 2011

The Future Scares Me

I asked a wise old man when the world would end. He told me, "when the smiling dog bears its face." I spit in his food and laughed...

...I am now fearful.

Northern Rednecks

I try to make myself fairly open to all lifestyles, but try as I may, there is one emerging group of people that slowly eat away at my already fragile tolerance. Being a Massachusetts resident all my life, nothing boils my poofarts more than helplessly viewing fleshbags convert to what I like to refer to as Northern Rednecks. I'm sure many of you from the North might already realize what I'm getting at, but for those unlearned folk, let me indulge you in this horrific epidemic. Consider the disease in “28 Days Later.” Imagine that same widespread epidemic, but those infected can give you rabies without any physical contact. To spot a Northern Redneck, look for these signs:     

      1) Constantly request shitty country music about sheep herding and sheep fucking (i.e. Toby Keith, Tim     McGraw, Garth Brooks, etc.).

      2) Drive obnoxiously loud and big trucks (P.S. Don’t worry about their gas consumption; their parents got that covered).

      3) Wear cowboy hats or pre-shredded mesh hats with some super faggy southern symbol or bottom of the barrel beer logo.

      4) Proudly display the confederate flag on any piece of shit they own (i.e. things their parents bought for them).

Now, I shouldn’t even have to write about these fucking idiots because they already demean themselves enough on their own (They associate themselves with the Confederacy. Confederates lost the war, making them losers. Therefore, if A=B and B=C, then A=C and that means they’re losers). However, I feel that this atrocity needs to be recognized before MTV makes a reality show out of them.

Don’t get me wrong though, I don’t mind southern-born Rednecks. They’re inbred; they can’t help how deformed their brains are. But, these Northern Rednecks were born with a silver cock in their mouth and only seek the redneck lifestyle in an attempt to shed their image as a spoiled rich child. I assume it’s to appear more independent and rugged then they actually are. So my suggestion to those who know (or God forbid are) one of these mentally unstable souls, confront them, have an intervention, tell them that they don’t need to pretend to be inbred, or prejudice, or stupid,… or ugly,… or put on a fake southern accent… Ah, fuck it. These people are helpless.

Friday, November 4, 2011

Mirk and Soda

While ordering my fourth Dunkin Donuts coffee of the day, I noticed an unfamiliar employee working the counter. I ordered my usual “medium-blueberry-iced-coffee-with-milk-n-sugar.” It wasn’t hard to tell that this old woman was straight off the boat. She copied my order back to me to verify if it was correct. “You want a brooberry ice coffee wit mirk and soda.” Wait… soda? Well since she probably wasn’t accustomed to American culture, I replied, “no, sugar.” To which she replied “what kind?” I hesitated and said “regular sugar?” So she left the counter and headed to the fridge and pointed at a Coca-Cola. I didn’t really know what to do. Just then, a follow employee, who was probably smelling fahts in the back, came to my aid and corrected her. I finally got my coffee and exited the building to the sounds of learning.

I sipped on my coffee in enjoyment as I galloped back to my wonderful job. But then I stopped… “No fucking way,” I thought. Little did I realize, that foreign lady was a freaking genius! They make coffee flavored caffeinated beverages; why not make soda flavored coffee then? It would have the roasted flavor of coffee mixed with the fizzy kick of a soda. I should’ve fucking listen to her. With the combination of my lack of business sense but amazing skill of bullshitting and her surreal sense of innovation, we could make millions... Fuckin’ billions.

On the realization of this, my world collapsed. I awoke in a blurry daze and stumbled back to Dunkin Donuts only to realize that the foreign lady wasn’t there… her coworkers had no recollection of her… the foeign woman never worked there… Did I encounter an angel?

Thursday, November 3, 2011

The Revolution

Before I publicly release my first blog post, you are to review the following warnings:
         1)      If you are easily offended, don’t read my posts.
I am not particularly concerned about your feelings; I just don’t care. I mean, I enjoy a good debate now and then. But, if I see anyone commenting on my choice of words or my general concern for frivolous things, you can be sure that I will… not really give a shit. 

         2)      I’m not trying to influence your view of society. I AM changing your view.
You are ordered to cast aside all your opinions and heed my words of wisdom. You are my students, and I am your teacher.

         3)      I don’t argue politics because they are boring.
I don’t need any captions to back this up. Politics are really mind-numbingly boring and make me constipated.

         4)      Don’t take anything I say seriously... unless it’s serious.
Yes. I am contradicting my previous warnings. But, I realize there are weird people who will read this garbage and take it as a rallying call to do weird shit with their weird friends (or lack thereof).

Other than these stupid warnings I made up in the last 5 minutes, have fun reading about the stupid shit I go on lengthy rants about. Also, I’ll post random things now and then that I find interesting. I will try to get a blog up every two days. 

Blah blah blah. Enjoy.