Posts filed under ‘Relationships’

I’d like to thank Facebook for its invention: the Cyber Jackass

I’m not of the age that grew up with Facebook.
In a way, it’s amazing for its ability to link people together, some of which I haven’t heard from in more than 20 years.
But then I realized, there’s a reason for that.
Do I really need to see the photos of the nieces and nephews on my “wall” of a high school classmate that I lost contact with 25 years ago? I mean, we sat in the same classroom for four years and I can’t remember having one conversation with you. Now, I’m looking at pictures of your niece?
But it gets worse.
I’d like to petition Webster’s Dictionary to approve a new word: Cyber Jackass.
The “cyber jackass” is the guy who works on the other side of the office, who somehow tracked you down on Facebook and “invited” you to be his “friend.” Your gut instinct is to just ignore it. But then, his profile and that stupid picture of him giving the “thumbs up” just sits there in the waiting-to-be-approved folder like a sad puppy in a cage at that animal shelter.
You are GUILTED into accepting them into your life, like some annoying, distant relative who insists on stopping by every year. He’s now a “friend” and the only contact I’ve ever had was the uncomfortable once-a-month bump in at the elevator. I see you headed for the same restroom, I go to the one on the second floor because I just know you are a “bathroom talker.” You know the type, they can’t wait to make small talk with you while you are pissing at the urinal – the ultimate captive audience. “Look, dude. I got one rule in life. I don’t talk to other men while my dick is in my hand. Got it? Great.” And besides that man code/restroom faux paus reminder, I don’t think we’ve had a legit conversation in the five years we’ve worked at the same company.
And now, thanks for Facebook, I’m getting five minute updates on your life.
I don’t care if you are looking forward to the weekend. And I don’t care if you are making sure you will TiVo the final episode of Lost.
And the pictures you post are all of men. Not one hot chick to be found.
Whose idea was it with this Facebook and Twitter that we have become so self-involved that we have to update people with our lamest, boring, insignificant daily actions.
So, here’s a cliche.
Get a life. And when you get it, keep the updates to once a week!
And post a picture of a hot chick for once. And if you don’t know any, why the %&$^&%* are you my friend?


December 25, 2008 at 2:32 pm Leave a comment

Yo! Kid Rock. If you are penning a song about how much you hate the ex-, she’s won.

Memo to Kid Rock: Shut up about Pam Anderson.
Kid Rock and Pam Anderson filed for divorce after five months of marriage in 2006.
He punched Tommy Lee, Pam’s soul mate, at the 2007 VMA awards show and then told a radio station it had nothing to do with Pam.
In 2007, he dissed her on the Late Show With David Letterman. His album in 2007 “Rock N Roll Jesus” has a song called “Half Your Age” that is an obvious shot at Pam Anderson.
Kid. I’m with you here. I’m on your team.
But shut the fuck up.
Here’s a tip: When you write a song about the old lady, you’ve lost.
And when your song says you are dating another girl whose “twice as hot” as Pam Anderson, everyone knows you are full of crap. Nobody is twice as hot as Pam Anderson. It just SCREAMS “broken.”
Pam 1, Kid 0.
We are better than that.
You are a millionaire rock star.
Not a whiny, crybaby pussy.
You can find other Pam Andersons out there.
Do it.
And here’s another tip.
You don’t marry the stippers, you just nail them.
And then find another.
Because if you can’t get over a piece of ass, what hope is there for the rest of us?

December 21, 2008 at 1:13 pm 1 comment

Like ice cream, women come in many flavors, but none without nuts

Women are like ice cream.
You end up eating it once a week and you better be damn sure you get a flavor you can enjoy over-and-over for the next 35 years.
Or you’re screwed.
Because women come in so many flavors, you’ll be tempted to try others. Many a man has entered a marriage and ended up in Baskin-Robbins with that little wooden spoon trying to gobble up what he can in a pathetically small paper cup that looks more apt for collecting urine samples.
Take Mint Chocolate Chip. A traditonal classic. That’s good marrying material.
But, oh no. Here comes Pistachio Almond. A little nutty (read: the divorced ex-stripper who just moved in the neighborhood).
Hmmm. I remember that flavor. Wow. It was really good. In fact, it was the BEST DAMN ice cream I ever had.
You know why? Because I haven’t eaten it since 1985!
I’ve been shoveling Mint Chocolate Chip down my throat so many times that I hate the weird aqua-blue color.
But you know what?
After four weeks of nothing but Pistachio Almonds, you are reminded that pistachios can be a tasty nut, just not in ice cream. In fact, it really doesn’t work at all when mixed in ice cream. You end up thinking, “I’d rather just eat the pistachios alone.” But you can’t. It’s a package deal. And now I remember why I went 20 plus years without eating it.
However, orange sherbet? OMG. That is so good. And it’s on sale.
But no wait, the clerk is handing me Mint Chocolate Chip.
Oh. Thanks.
Dammit. Why’d I hook up with Mint Chocolate Chip?
Her sister “Regular Chocolate Chip” is such a better match for me. I love vanilla ice cream! That mint flavor has become overpowering. It completely ruins the taste of the chocolate chip.
And now, I have to pretend to enjoy eating it when “Regular Chocolate Chip” is right next to it. Double scoops! DOUBLE SCOOPS!
So many flavors.
Why do we always get stuck eating the same one?

December 20, 2008 at 6:10 pm Leave a comment

Round 4: Marge Simpson vs. Lois Griffin

Men all know Lois wins this battle, hands down.
But let’s take a moment to appreciate the challenger, Marge Simpson.
Yes, Lois and Marge are both forever linked to fat, stupid men – a longtime toon tradition that goes back to Bedrock times. But at least Peter Griffin has hair.
In Family Guy, Lois has been romantically linked to J. Geils, Daryl Hall, the Whitesnake singer and Kiss’ Gene Simmons. That’s a whole lot of STDs to dance around.
Marge isn’t a slut. But she does have a trace of the wild side in her.
In the episode Natural Born Kissers, Homer and Marge learn to spice up their love life by “snuggling” in very public places. After conquering a nearby barn and experimenting with at Sir Putts-a-Lot miniature golf course. They are trapped inside the windmill.
But take a look at these shots:
You see that body. Look at those curves. This is a woman who has given birth to three children within a nine-year period.
Now, look at Marge in an official-Simpson shot in the classic doggy style. A rare glimpse at Marge’s goods!
And don’t disregard the look of complete hopelessness in her eyes.
And finally, she’s been stuck with the most horrid hairdo in toon history. Look at young Marge and what a difference a normal hairstyle does for her.
Marge will NOT BE IGNORED.
The problem is that she’s not up against Betty or Wilma or even Miss Buxley, General Halftrack’s hot-ass secretary who appears to be a gold-digger disinterested in doing you unless you have four-stars on your shoulder.
Now, no disrespect to Marge, she is no Lois Griffin.
Lois is pure freak.
She’s got all the telltale signs of being a complete freak in bed.
She was Miss Teen Rhode Island. Beauty pageant contestants are one step above strippers when it comes to the “crazy gene.”
She’s got “daddy” issues – she has a strained relationship with her father Carter Pewterschmidt.
When Brian was presumed lost at sea, Lois married Brian – that’s the friggin’ dog!
She boinked President Clinton in an episode.
In epsiodes, she’s been a kleptomaniac and had gambling addiction.
She dressed up as the “dirty” Grimace of McDonalds for one sexual romp and in another bedroom episode yelled at Peter to slap her ass so she could climax.
She’s been dressed as a dominatrix in at least two Family Guy episodes I’ve seen.
This chick is pushing all my buttons!

December 13, 2008 at 7:43 pm Leave a comment

A parental plan on how to answer, “What age is the right age for your son to have a girlfriend?”

Tell him, “Women are like jobs. Once you start them, you got ’em your whole life. So enjoy your dating unemployment. Because the age 12 to 20 are the only years in life you’ll be eligible to be job/chick free. Some men have two jobs. Some are chronically unemployed. Some have the same job they started at age 18. Some changes jobs over and over their whole life. Some people lose interest in their job as soon as they start it. The point is, just about everyone gets one, so why the rush? Because once it starts, it never ends.”
Then get out a CD with the Meatloaf song, “Paradise By The Dashboard Light.”
My generation grew up listening to this song.
Today’s kids don’t have the attention span to hear the message Meatloaf taught an entire generation – hot ass don’t stay hot, it just stays.
So for this generation’s kids, get to the point.
Forward the CD to the 6:57 mark of the song and hit play:
“I couldn’t take it any longer
Lord I was crazed
And when the feeling came upon me
Like a tidal wave
I started swearing to my God and on my mother’s grave
That I would love you to the end of time
I swore that I would love you to the end of time
So now I’m praying for the end of time
To hurry up and arrive
Cause if I gotta spend another minute with you
I don’t think that I can really survive
I’ll never break my promise or forget my vow
But God only knows what I can do right now
I’m praying for the end of time
It’s all that I can do
Praying for the end of time, so I can end my time with you”


Are you deaf, woman!? He said he wants to sleep on it!

November 24, 2008 at 4:09 am 5 comments

Reporting an ass-tax siting ….

Any time a man buys some crap from an attractive office worker for her kids bullshit activity. In this instance, it was $15 for a hockey team fundraiser and the man got one jackass flower.

To read about just what an ass-tax is, I’ve provided the

November 16, 2008 at 11:30 pm Leave a comment

Ode to Old School, and what truths women will never learn from it.

In 2003, there was a movie that came out that became an instant classic. It made Will Ferrell what he is today.
I’m talking about Old School, one of the most-quoted movies by drunken men.
Yet, in the nearly six years since its been out, I haven’t found one woman who has enjoyed it.
And through the years, Ferrell’s tried to recapture that magic but has never come close.
Men have flocked to the movies to see if Ferrell could recreate that magic in Old School knock offs like Anchorman, The Legend of Ron Burgundy, Wedding Crashers and Step Brothers and have come away feeling a bit betrayed.
What was it about Old School?
The magic of the movie was that it captured on film five basic truths about relationships, cementing itself as the ultimate “Damaged Guy Movie.”

Women don’t like blow jobs:
There’s an old joke that goes like this. A man comes home from work and finds his wife packing her bags. “I’m leaving you and going to Las Vegas. I heard you can make $500 there for a blow job.” As the woman is packing her bags, she notices her husband is packing his bag, too. “Where are you going?” the wife demands. “To Vegas,” the husband says. “I want to see you try to make it on $1,000 a year.” Women don’t like blow jobs.
In Old School, Andy Dick plays Barry the oral sex instructor who is hired as the homosexual man who is an expert at blow jobs and is going to teach the house wives how to perfect the art. He uses vegetables to demonstrate.
Barry: Ladies, our thumbs are down, our wrists are flexed, and we’re gonna position ourselves for insertion.
Barry: Now you’re going to do the work, ladies. These carrots are not going to ejaculate themselves.

We all know women. Nobody has to teach them how to eat chocolate or how to nag about picking up your clothes.
Women become experts at that without trainers. Women don’t like sucking cock. They just do it because they think men like it.

Therapy sucks:
Men don’t believe in therapy. Why? Because it don’t work. Talking about why you are no longer into your piece of ass won’t change that. It only brings it out in the open. In front of the woman you are no longer into. That’s a toxic mix.
Yet, therapy is the No. 1 option for couples in a troubled marriage.
In Old School, Frank goes to see a therapist after he gets drunk and goes streaking and is caught by his new wife.
It starts out well.
The therapist explains the ground rules:

Therapist: Frank, this is a safe place. It’s a place where we can feel free sharing our feelings. Think of my office as a nest in a tree of trust and understanding. We can say anything here.
Frank: Anything?

Every man at this point of the movie says to himself, “Frank, he’s full of shit. Trust your instincts.”
Frank tells the therapist he understands he is married and he should be changed but he doesn’t feel changed.
Frank: I mean, suddenly you get married and you’re supposed
to be this entirely different guy. I don’t feel different.

His wife nods in agreement.
But what lies beneath betrays him.

Therapist: Frank, this is a safe place. A place where we can feel free sharing our feelings. Think of my office as a nest in a tree of trust and understanding. We can say anything here.
Frank: Anything? Well, uh I guess I, deep down, am feeling a little confused. I mean, suddenly, you get married, and you’re supposed to be this entirely different guy. I don’t feel different. I mean, take yesterday for example. We were out at the Olive Garden for dinner, which was lovely. And uh, I happen to look over at a certain point during the meal and see a waitress taking an order, and I found myself wondering what color her underpants might be. Her panties. Uh, odds are they are probably basic white, cotton, underpants. But I sort of think well maybe they’re silk panties, maybe it’s a thong. Maybe it’s something really cool that I don’t even know about. You know, and uh, and I started feeling… what? what I thought we were in the trust tree in the nest, were we not?

Every man silently nodded at the line.
We know, baby, there is no trust tree.
The next scene shows Frank was forced to move out of his home.

It’s better if you lie in relationships

If you ever read the e-Harmony want lists of all the single women in this country, somewhere in the top three desires in a mate is listed “honesty” or “trustworthy”.
Mitch comes home from an out-of-town conference and finds his girlfriend is about to have an orgy with strangers who are blindfolded.
Mitch: Be honest. Please tell me this is the first time
this has happened.
Girlfriend: Well, do you want me to be honest, or you
want me to tell you this is the first time?

The naive Mitch laments about his discovery during the toast at Frank’s wedding.
Mitch: True love is hard to find, sometimes you think you have true love and then you catch the early flight home from San Diego and a couple of nude people jump out of your bathroom blindfolded like a goddamn magic show ready to double team your girlfriend…

We like beer.
Men love beer, especially if we’ve been forced by the nagging significant other to stop drinking it.
Frank: [after funneling a beer] Once it hits your lips, it’s so good!
‘Nuff said.

If men think about it, sleeping with one woman the rest of your life really freaks us out.
Vince Vaughn’s character points that out to his friend Frank.
Beanie: Alright, let me be the first to say congratulations to then. You get one vagina for the rest of your life. Real smart Frank. Way to work it through.
Then, when Frank opens up to the therapist in front of his wife:
Frank: I guess what I’m trying to say is that now that I’m married, I’m definitely feeling a little freaked out about the fact that I’m gonna have sex with only one person for the rest of my life.
We tend not to dwell on that. It’s just an understood assumption we push off into the back of our minds.

November 15, 2008 at 4:49 pm 4 comments

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