Saturday, June 30, 2007


My phone has been dead for almost a month so I went and picked this little gem up the other day. It's officially the coolest thing I own. I already have an Ipod, so fuck an Iphone, and plus Apple is kinda gay.

My status in the world is increasing. I take it out and pretend to talk an awful lot more than ever. I can even read my own blog from it (and do), what more could you ask for?

It's got a stylus pen so I can scratch my balls and I can organize my week with it too. It's like having a secretary who will scratch your balls with a tiny stick (and not sue you.)

Yeah, it drained my bank account but it was so worth it. Who needs a positive balance when you've got such a sweet piece of machinery? Exactly.

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

And the colored voices in my head began to sing!

It would seem that summer is finally here. The oppressive heat, the blistering sun, and oh yeah: The ladies.

It appears the sun has defrosted whatever part of my brain that gives me the balls the hit on chicks, and though I hate myself for doing it, I give in every time. The girl at Borders, the woman behind me in line at 7-11, even people coming into my work; no one is safe from my smooth talking and relentless libido.

It dawned on me the other day, while eating Ramen noodles in my underwear at 1 in the morning and watching "Sean of the Dead" on Comedy Central: I need a woman. Not just any will do anymore, it's time to move up from the minor leagues and get back into the game.

My last sexual encounter was certainly less than spectacular (for me not her.) I won't go into the details, because I'm mildly disgusted with myself, but let's just say I faked it and couldn't look at her for the rest of the night. She wasn't my type in the least, and this is what I blame my sluggish performance on, but what exactly am I into?

I always hate to say a girl is "Not my type" since I'm not exactly sure what type is right for me. If it's got anything to do with past relationships, I'll take issues. Lack of self-esteem, paranoia, jealousy, ect. Those would be my turn ons, if we were taking that route. Real interests I have:

Glasses: No coke bottles or anything, but cute glasses are win. They make a girl look sophisticated, no matter how vapid she may be. Sure, I'll find out later of their resentment to killing lemons for lemonaid, but it certainly softens the blow.
Since I'm also a sucker for pretty eyes, if you have such eyes, they'll be magnified and I'll be able to see them even better.

Sense of Humor: If you laugh at my jokes, you're in. I don't care how off color or certifiably inappropriate it is, if you crack a smile, I'll love you. This also ties in with the ability to be candid, speak what's on your mind or just in general. Not that you should prattle on about things I could care less about, but awkward silences make for a bored and agitated Hans Strongo.

Vagina: Not really a preference but a prerequisite. At least one required for any type of relationship/one night stand/my attention during a donkey show,ect.

Down the road it helps if you can cook and you'll put up with my shit. Those three things will certainly help you get to that point, where you're cooking for me and dealing with my shit.

I'm contemplating running for mayor of my fair city, more to come on that later.

Proof reading is for suckers.

Monday, June 18, 2007

A timebomb ticking...motherfucker!

Everyone gets angry, it's impossible not to. These past few months, I've noticed a rise in my 'irrational and murderous rage' levels. Hands shaking, fists clenched, sweat beads cascading down my face and all from some extremely mundane things. In an effort to not actually kill someone for a minor annoyance, and keep things in order, I'll list them.

The Elderly: "Respect your elders" they say.... What says respect more than holding someone down, the grip on their Polident® smile slowly giving as the dentures slide to the back of their throat. Repeatedly kicking about the face and neck, as if to tenderize an old milk carton. Brittle ribs crack like nilla waffers, space age plastic hips give way to circa 1991 WWF style Leg drops and pizza dough skin quickly plums with broken blood vessels and blunt force trauma.

You're as old as the hills, wonderful! You deserve a discount because you're incontinent and cranky? They ask a lot of questions about different things but never seem to listen to a word of advise. It is my belief, that everyone over 75, with the exception of those with special permits, should be put somewhere and not allowed out.

White Trash revival: Larry the Cable guy isn't funny. Jeff Foxworthy isn't funny. Incest isn't funny. See a connection? When you don't bathe, you start to smell bad, and when your body fat percentage is over 30% you shouldn't wear just a tank top(no matter how hot it is!)
There's not a whole lot of ''Rednecks" in the North East, but there are dumb yokels nonetheless. Wearing NASCAR hats, holding the arm of their beautiful brides(Almost always over 200 lbs, waaay to short shorts, and a Tweety bird shirt with some mildly 'fresh' slogan on it.) You are white trash, please stop living.

Children: You shit yourself for the first 2-3 years of your life, then you become that which occupied your pampers for so long. Don't get me wrong, I like kids... just not when they're making noise. They cry and bitch and get their god damned way, every time! I had a kid flip out in line because the little twat wanted some random piece of confection. You know what their parents did? No, they didn't beat the brat in the middle of my store, they didn't even tell it to shut it's Gerber hole. They caved, gave the spoiled cunt what it wanted.

New public service from FYB: I will beat your kids! No longer do you have to feel the guilt of public discipline. Send me an email, we can set up an appointment. The next time little Suzie or Billy act up in public, I'm there, raining blows upon them like some sort of fucking psycho! They'll never throw a temper tantrum again..

When I was a kid, if I acted like a dick bag, it was always "Wait 'til your father gets home." My mother didn't have to say "Because you're getting your ass kicked," it was just implied. It got me into line real quick; that and the wooden spoon... But people don't beat their kids anymore! It's not politically correct these days. Instead of unleashing the fury to the ass of a child, it's all "Sit in the corner" or "Timeout." Learn to parent,plz.
"Blue tooth" headsets: You aren't important. I'm sorry, but you're not, and that stupid thing in your ear just makes you look stupid. Do you really think you're too good to raise your phone to your ear? This little device, if you didn't know, allows business men and poor people (who like to buy things they can't afford) feel like they are important. They keep these ridiculous things in their ears all day, having conversations with what appears to be themselves, then they get upset when you don't answer them right away. Oh I'm so fucking sorry! I thought you were on the phone....

Douche bags...

I only wish these came a lot larger so they could choke on them when I shove it down their throats. Business men en masse, all "linked up" with these things. It boils my blood,grinds my gears, gets my goat,ect. I want to walk up and rip them off their head,ear included, and crush them in my hand. Or smash them into a brick wall, user attached, until the conversation or person having it is dropped.

*Deep breath*


Friday, June 15, 2007

Chain-smokin',grease burnt,and tired..

My sincerest apologies for my lack of useless shit here at FYB, you're source for the dumbest stuff that pops into my head. When you work two jobs, sometimes being on your feet for 13 or more hours a day, it kinda makes you want to anything but come up with (not so) witty things to say for the few people you beg to read your blog. Still, I wouldn't trade it for the world.

I'm actually busy these days, having something to do is always a nice feeling. Sure, I don't get to stay up until 4 every night, drinking and playing Ultima Online, but you have to make sacrifices. Not that I really have anything I need at this point in time, thus making my whole 'sacrifices' argument useless, but still...

I've been working on some super secret things to give to my loyal fan(s). I've received almost 700 hits thus far, so someone is reading my stuff. This makes me happy, knowing that at least one person might get a chuckle out of these worthless ramblings. Good game lurkers, keep up the good work.

It's 5:27 AM. I've yet to sleep. Rather than slumber like any normal person, I watched "The Last Run." "The Wonder Year's" Fred Savage as a sex addict, need I say more? It had a good ending, the dialogue was strong, I give it an A- overall.

Well, until we meet again,or just when I become more interesting, I shall bid you all adieu.

Thursday, June 7, 2007

Justice? El oh El!

Paris Hilton was arrested and put on probation. She then violated said probation. The real kicker here is that they actually tried to send her to jail. Oh Paris, you poor little thing! The original deal was 90 days AND she'd get protective custody from the other inmates. Her sentence was cut down to 45 days(go figure.)

Oh Paris, it must have been terrible! You had to endure three (3!) days in Prison, separated from all the actual criminals (and people that don't have daddy's money to play with and the best lawyers , you know, they type that get spunk-depository Heiresses out of minuscule jail sentences for being irresponsible twats.)

She was released today after 72 hours! Three days and she's home, due to "Medical reasons" according to the news. I didn't know 'Cock Withdrawal' was a medical condition. To show that they still meant business, they've placed her on house arrest.


So for the next 42(?) days, she'll lounge by a pool. Text message her friends, make some sex tapes,ect. But she's being punished. Now go to your room,Paris, you get no dessert tonight.

At least Martha Stewart did 6 months.

Pork Fried Boredom

Has anyone noticed the amount of American characters Hugh Jackman has played? He's English (Aussie?) and yet Wolverine, one of the Penguins in Happy Feet, guy in The Fountain... Americans! Don't get me wrong, he's a great actor and all, but you've got to wonder where he got his technique, as he does it pretty well.


Now that it's five minutes until 2 in the morning, I think it's safe to say that I'm not going to be called back. Maybe it's karma, since I don't do very well with calling people back. Big plans were going to be made, jugs of Sangria would be consumed (like 3 of them, my idea) and bowling wouldst thus occur. But NoOoOo...

Went to 7/11 to buy a new lighter, because God knows where mine went. Now if I could get him to tell me where, I could have saved myself the awkwardness of saying to the lady in front of me, "How ironic" to her total of $7.11 (Pack of Marlboro lights and a Diet Pepsi.) Or even the disappointment when I was informed they were out of BICs for the rest of the week. I played it cool; bought a few packs of smokes, a slim jim,and some hardcore pornography and left.

Sorry, I lied about the Slim Jim, that part never happened. Regardless, the whole reason I went to the store was for a lighter. The whole reason I didn't mind going was because I was already dressed, waiting for friends to call. The whole reason I lost my lighter is because I was rushing around getting ready for a fun filled, alcohol fueled evening. Funny how things work,eh Charlie Brown?

"It was only one flipper baby!"

Monday, June 4, 2007

The Showdown

It's a hazy June day, not quite summer but hardly appropriate for that cardigan. Four men, dressed in the finest duds Marshall's has to offer, meander back to the office, their double knit slacks ride uncomfortably against their navels after an ever so powerful 'power lunch.'

With the music two notches past reasonable and bass long past the line of good taste, four men, dressed in the height of urban fashion available(without leaving the suburbs) cruise the main drag for any 'fly hoes' for which to 'holla at.'

A red light. An uneven sidewalk. Rod goes sprawling onto the pavement. 'C-dub' (Real name Charles) pulls his 'whip' (1994 Pontiac Sunfire,hunter green) to a stop. Noticing Rod's predicament from the corner of his eye, 'Loc da Mak' (Loke-the-Mack, real name Travis) let's out a bona fide 'gangsta' giggle.

Phillip, the brawniest of the group, standing at a towering 5'9, with what could have been muscles protruding though his navy blue,button down, Ralph Lauren shirt ($16.99), shot a cold stare into the direction of the heckling homies.

A volley of insults were exchanged, the 'fresh ride' pulled into an adjacent parking lot, and the two rival forces soon found themselves face to face in the middle of the outdoor food court.

To Be Continued

Sunday, June 3, 2007

Because it's sterile and I like the taste

June is here, May is gone. The beer is gone. Lost are the chilly mornings and jacket weather has become sooo last month. This is upsetting, in it's place comes sticky humidity and sunburns. Girls in next to nothing is a plus, but I'd trade the few attractive,scantily clad women I get to see for Eskimo garb any day. It's too damn hot, plain and simple, and it's not even that bad yet! As they say, "It only gets worse."

People bitch about the snow, I don't, I love it! Give me an excuse to wear my heavy jacket with a long sleeve shirt underneath. Thermals under my pants. Tucking my pants into my boots so they don't get wet, I can't get enough. I think part of the reason is that I don't have a car to dig out of 5 feet of snow. Or care about how icy and treacherous the roads are.

I don't drive! Yes! The secret to my infatuation with winter and shitty stormy weather. I don't have a license,and thus embrace the snowy season. I've been out of school almost two years now, but still get some sort of sick satisfaction watching the morning news for school cancellations. But now what? What do we have now? Brush fires and UV index warning, and douche bag meteorologists warning the elderly to stay in the air conditioning.

I'm finally going to break down and get my license. So if you see a blue Oldsmobile, blaring Devo through the suburbs, it's probably me. You should probably stay out of the street too if you're a pedestrian. Not that I'm a bad driver, but just a friendly warning.

While on the train the other day, the woman across from me wasn't wearing panties. Score right? This is an accurate depiction of the scene: