The other day I went to the mall with my family, why you may ask. Because I am a sadist or masochist or which ever one likes to be tortured. You see, not only was it about 1,000 degrees outside but the mall we were going to is very popular so it was a double dumbass day at the mall.
Just to give you a little peep into what was going to make this mall trip so much fun, my 3 year old son thought it would be a good idea to color instead of taking a nap like we told him too. But he didn’t color in a book. Nope he colored on himself, with a permanent marker none the less. There he is with his free hand tribal tats, all over his arms and legs. Thank god he didn’t go Mike Tyson on us and do his face too.
We tried to get it off of him but the best we could do was to make it fade a little bit. Wanna guess what it looked like? It looked like we force fed him about a half dozen Whataburgers, three pots of black coffee and a couple of jars of jalapenos then kept him out of the bathroom for a couple of days. The boy was a mess.
To make a long story shorter, while spending the afternoon at the mall we decided to get something to eat at the food court. As we are making our way to the food court I see a girl that I could best describe as a beefy suicide girl. The family makes their way to get something to eat, I wanted something from a different place, and I go find a table for us. When they get to the table I get my son to go over to their table, point to his arms and legs and say “Nice Ink”. Did you know that a human can shoot a mouthful soft taco a good 15 feet when they begin to laugh? And she got a pretty good spray too!
About the time that I found a table my kids see the vending machines and claw games that are in the food court and want to go play them. I had some change and didn’t care of they blew it trying to get a stuffed animal or something like that. What I didn’t know is that my son found the Hyper Mega Super Ball machine and used the change I gave him to buy one. This ball is not quite the size of a baseball but bigger than a golf ball. What I also didn’t know is that he realized that we were on the third floor of the mall. As I was watching him and just about the time I said “Oh no, surely he’s not going to…” this is when I learned that my son has one hell of an arm. He hurled that ball over the rail. I saw it make one bounce and then heard a lot of people yelling. Ooops! Do you have any idea how fast a 3 year old can haul ass back to the table when they realize that they have made a mistake?
As I said before I wanted to get something to eat from a different place than the rest of my family so I go and make my way to the restaurant that I want to eat at and get in line. Just as if someone had scripted it, this older woman and her (I guess) son get behind me in line. When it gets to be mine turn I tell the guy what I want and make my way down the line, just like most people with common sense. This lady is asking what everything is, what’s in it and so on. You could just see the guy behind the counter wanted to stab her in the eye with a spork. Since there were so many people in the mall that day there was a bit of a line. When it got to be my turn to pay I get out my card, hand it to the guy behind the counter and then grab a bottle of hot sauce and start to pour some onto my food. About the time the guy is handing me my card back the question lady asks me “What’s that?” and I simply could not resist. I reply to her “I don’t know, but it makes my poop funny colors. Burns like hell too” and just walked away.
Don’t get dead
Showing posts with label dumbass. Show all posts
Showing posts with label dumbass. Show all posts
Wednesday, July 01, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Slow your roll!
I don’t know if this is genius or sad but with the energy drink epidemic someone has come out with a “relaxation” drink, yeah the anti energy drinks. Its catchy little name is “drank”.
So knowing how stupid most of our society is, will this be the new “thing” or is it the new Pepsi Clear/New Coke? I can see legions of morons drinking this to be cool. And where do most people want to be seen? In their cool cars. Yeah, think the developers thought this one out? Let’s see, a drink that makes you sleepy that you can pick up in a gas station for a long night of cruising. Someone was overflowing with foresight eh. Sure, let’s get behind the wheel and go to sleep.
I don’t know a hell of a lot of about the energy drinks other than from what I hear they taste like what I would guess a menstruating skunk’s ass would taste like. So what does this marvel of modern creation taste like? I am guessing that it is grape flavored because the whole damn thing is purple.
But wouldn’t it just make more sense to not drink something with caffeine or sugar in it if you needed to relax? Here’s a nutty idea, drink water or some booze (not while driving kiddos) or milk or something, just not a soda or coffee. Hell, don’t drink anything unless you are really thirsty. But do you really need to drink something to relax? That just doesn’t make sense to me. Won’t you just get tired on your own? And if you did drink this tallboy sized can of crap, I mean “relaxation” drink, wouldn’t you have to wake up to pee? Defeats the purpose of drinking this to relax if you are going to have to get up to make your bladder gladder?
And after checking out the website I see that they are a publicly traded company. I may have to look into investing in these guys because you know what they say about a fool and their money. Because there are dumbasses everywhere and they will probably buy this crap by the case. I just don’t understand…
Don’t get dead
So knowing how stupid most of our society is, will this be the new “thing” or is it the new Pepsi Clear/New Coke? I can see legions of morons drinking this to be cool. And where do most people want to be seen? In their cool cars. Yeah, think the developers thought this one out? Let’s see, a drink that makes you sleepy that you can pick up in a gas station for a long night of cruising. Someone was overflowing with foresight eh. Sure, let’s get behind the wheel and go to sleep.
I don’t know a hell of a lot of about the energy drinks other than from what I hear they taste like what I would guess a menstruating skunk’s ass would taste like. So what does this marvel of modern creation taste like? I am guessing that it is grape flavored because the whole damn thing is purple.
But wouldn’t it just make more sense to not drink something with caffeine or sugar in it if you needed to relax? Here’s a nutty idea, drink water or some booze (not while driving kiddos) or milk or something, just not a soda or coffee. Hell, don’t drink anything unless you are really thirsty. But do you really need to drink something to relax? That just doesn’t make sense to me. Won’t you just get tired on your own? And if you did drink this tallboy sized can of crap, I mean “relaxation” drink, wouldn’t you have to wake up to pee? Defeats the purpose of drinking this to relax if you are going to have to get up to make your bladder gladder?
And after checking out the website I see that they are a publicly traded company. I may have to look into investing in these guys because you know what they say about a fool and their money. Because there are dumbasses everywhere and they will probably buy this crap by the case. I just don’t understand…
Don’t get dead
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Dear Sweezey - The Whole Plunging Neckline on a XXXL Spaghetti Strap Tank Top Thing?
Dear Sweezey,
On Monday I was returning to Florida from Chicago. I am at the airport. It is 35 degrees outside and 3 inches of snow in April. It is windy and cold.
I am looking at a very overweight hispanic girl, maybe in her mid-twenties with a black tank top on. She has her hair done up like pom-poms on the top of her head. Her black jeans are way too tight and her waistband is folded over, under her gut. This is a very tight tank top. With a very plunging neckline. This very tight tank top has spaghetti straps. All I see is sweaty, untanned flesh and an amazingly large gap where the cleavage should be. Her boobs are spread apart and sagging, unsupported, braless and resting upon her rolls. I cannot quite distinguish where her boobs and her rolls are supposed to be separated. They are all flabby and resting upon themselves.
The fact she's out like this in 35 degrees is one thing, but out in public dressed like this is another. All this in itself is a little curious.
But she also has a pink bra strap sticking out off her shoulder, like, perpindicular to her arm. Obviously not supporting anything that should have been supported since she was eight years old. "Gross," I said out loud to nobody listening, "At least go fix that strap."
My plane is delayed and for an hour, and the heifer in the black tank top does not fix her bra strap. She doesn't fix her bra strap!
We board the plane and lo' n' behold guess who is on my flight and guess who cannot walk down the aisle without turning sideways? She is so big, she cannot walk straight down the aisle. With her tight ol' black tank top and plunging neckline she is whacking the sides of the poor people in the aisleway...
I can only say that I am glad I did not have an aisle seat. What if I didn't see her coming, and my mouth was open? All I saw were aisle-seated-men with grimaces on their faces as they dodged the oncoming blubber of flesh and boobage.
!WITH THE PINK STRAP STILL STICKING OUT HALFWAY DOWN HER ARM!
Please help me understand why a woman would do this?!
Living on the beach, I've begun to wonder why bikini manufacturers would actually market a flesh colored bikini in a size 14 or larger.
This just reinforces my confusion. Please help me. Gawd, I hope she's not related you.
This isn't something I can blog about on my blog because I only have a readership of 3 and one is my sister and one is my mom. Thanks for following me. It's nice to have someone to turn to.
Sincerely,
Thedadmandiaries
Dear Thedadmandiaries,
Sorry that I am late responding to this, every time I read the description I kept throwing up.
Did you read my post on MILFs? That is exactly what I am talking about. What has happened is that someone, even harder up than she is, told Senioretta Sasquach that she was either hot, sexy, fine, beautiful or whatever and she believed them.
And real quick, hell no she isn’t related to me.
Had to clear that up real quick. Now back to your questions, when you visibly can’t tell where the tits end and the gut begins it is obvious that there is a sever lack of self respect. Anyone who doesn’t respect themselves always has an attitude/perception problem with the rest of society. And if they don’t respect themselves they are not going to respect your senses, vision or any others. $100 says she was loud and smelled too. Plus she probably thought that the bra strap, low neck line and painted on jeans were “sexy”. And she thinks so because at least once in her past someone was nice to her and told her that she was sexy.
I firmly believe that it’s these hard up little F’ers who are fully to blame for this. They feed (pun intended) this nasty women what they want to hear and then these half tons of fun start to believe it. I know these dudes want to get laid but people in hell want ice water too. If these dudes would stay out of the chat rooms and gaming message boards and join the rest of normal society the world would be a better place. You see it is circular. Poindexter is on a mission to have sex at least once before he dies that he will tell any woman anything that she wants to her so that she will give him some. And desperation breeds persistency and changes your perception. Sort of like if you were starving a steak from the waffle house would taste fantastic, but if you were just a little hungry it would make you want to barf. Get what I mean? So here the geeks feed the freaks ego enough to cause the freaks to believe what the geeks tell them. If someone told you that you were the best at something and they told you over and over again, you would start to believe them. Look at professional athletes and the egos that they have. Same thing with Mount St Saggy. So now she thinks that she is hot and that she has to have hot girl attitude. A la the bra strap. She was teasing you with her sexiness.
Now onto the flesh colored bikini. It’s simple actually, the bikini makers know that they can charge a premium for the plus size bikini version of a normal bikini and they will get it too. It amazes me how backwards socity is, it is like pulling hens teeth to get the women you want to see nude out of their clothes and you can’t keep the ones you don’t want to see covered up enough.
I fully believe that there should be an exam for lots of things and clothing is one of them. Take bras for example, if you have to pour yourself or perform some sort of coordinated crane dance to get a bra on you should not be allowed to own, wear or borrow a sexy bra or a push up bra. If there is enough of an altitude change that your boobs experience a climate change, sorry no sexy undies for you! Its granny panties and those lunch lady bras from the Sears catalog. And you damn sure better not have a belly button ring!
Same goes for low cut tops, tight pants, and thongs. You should at least have to fill out some sort of form that has to be approved.
Don’t get dead
On Monday I was returning to Florida from Chicago. I am at the airport. It is 35 degrees outside and 3 inches of snow in April. It is windy and cold.
I am looking at a very overweight hispanic girl, maybe in her mid-twenties with a black tank top on. She has her hair done up like pom-poms on the top of her head. Her black jeans are way too tight and her waistband is folded over, under her gut. This is a very tight tank top. With a very plunging neckline. This very tight tank top has spaghetti straps. All I see is sweaty, untanned flesh and an amazingly large gap where the cleavage should be. Her boobs are spread apart and sagging, unsupported, braless and resting upon her rolls. I cannot quite distinguish where her boobs and her rolls are supposed to be separated. They are all flabby and resting upon themselves.
The fact she's out like this in 35 degrees is one thing, but out in public dressed like this is another. All this in itself is a little curious.
But she also has a pink bra strap sticking out off her shoulder, like, perpindicular to her arm. Obviously not supporting anything that should have been supported since she was eight years old. "Gross," I said out loud to nobody listening, "At least go fix that strap."
My plane is delayed and for an hour, and the heifer in the black tank top does not fix her bra strap. She doesn't fix her bra strap!
We board the plane and lo' n' behold guess who is on my flight and guess who cannot walk down the aisle without turning sideways? She is so big, she cannot walk straight down the aisle. With her tight ol' black tank top and plunging neckline she is whacking the sides of the poor people in the aisleway...
I can only say that I am glad I did not have an aisle seat. What if I didn't see her coming, and my mouth was open? All I saw were aisle-seated-men with grimaces on their faces as they dodged the oncoming blubber of flesh and boobage.
!WITH THE PINK STRAP STILL STICKING OUT HALFWAY DOWN HER ARM!
Please help me understand why a woman would do this?!
Living on the beach, I've begun to wonder why bikini manufacturers would actually market a flesh colored bikini in a size 14 or larger.
This just reinforces my confusion. Please help me. Gawd, I hope she's not related you.
This isn't something I can blog about on my blog because I only have a readership of 3 and one is my sister and one is my mom. Thanks for following me. It's nice to have someone to turn to.
Sincerely,
Thedadmandiaries
Dear Thedadmandiaries,
Sorry that I am late responding to this, every time I read the description I kept throwing up.
Did you read my post on MILFs? That is exactly what I am talking about. What has happened is that someone, even harder up than she is, told Senioretta Sasquach that she was either hot, sexy, fine, beautiful or whatever and she believed them.
And real quick, hell no she isn’t related to me.
Had to clear that up real quick. Now back to your questions, when you visibly can’t tell where the tits end and the gut begins it is obvious that there is a sever lack of self respect. Anyone who doesn’t respect themselves always has an attitude/perception problem with the rest of society. And if they don’t respect themselves they are not going to respect your senses, vision or any others. $100 says she was loud and smelled too. Plus she probably thought that the bra strap, low neck line and painted on jeans were “sexy”. And she thinks so because at least once in her past someone was nice to her and told her that she was sexy.
I firmly believe that it’s these hard up little F’ers who are fully to blame for this. They feed (pun intended) this nasty women what they want to hear and then these half tons of fun start to believe it. I know these dudes want to get laid but people in hell want ice water too. If these dudes would stay out of the chat rooms and gaming message boards and join the rest of normal society the world would be a better place. You see it is circular. Poindexter is on a mission to have sex at least once before he dies that he will tell any woman anything that she wants to her so that she will give him some. And desperation breeds persistency and changes your perception. Sort of like if you were starving a steak from the waffle house would taste fantastic, but if you were just a little hungry it would make you want to barf. Get what I mean? So here the geeks feed the freaks ego enough to cause the freaks to believe what the geeks tell them. If someone told you that you were the best at something and they told you over and over again, you would start to believe them. Look at professional athletes and the egos that they have. Same thing with Mount St Saggy. So now she thinks that she is hot and that she has to have hot girl attitude. A la the bra strap. She was teasing you with her sexiness.
Now onto the flesh colored bikini. It’s simple actually, the bikini makers know that they can charge a premium for the plus size bikini version of a normal bikini and they will get it too. It amazes me how backwards socity is, it is like pulling hens teeth to get the women you want to see nude out of their clothes and you can’t keep the ones you don’t want to see covered up enough.
I fully believe that there should be an exam for lots of things and clothing is one of them. Take bras for example, if you have to pour yourself or perform some sort of coordinated crane dance to get a bra on you should not be allowed to own, wear or borrow a sexy bra or a push up bra. If there is enough of an altitude change that your boobs experience a climate change, sorry no sexy undies for you! Its granny panties and those lunch lady bras from the Sears catalog. And you damn sure better not have a belly button ring!
Same goes for low cut tops, tight pants, and thongs. You should at least have to fill out some sort of form that has to be approved.
Don’t get dead
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Hot Rods and Spring Break in Panama City Beach (long)
Growing up I was friends with a couple of brothers whose father owned a couple of car garages. And they had a huge car barn where we built hot rods and worked on our own cars. The coolest part about building these hot rods was that we got to drive them from time to time. You want to talk about feeling like a bad ass, be in high school and roll up to the school in a blown 23 T-Bucket or a 32 Ford Coupe with a chopped top and suicide doors, shaved door handles and exhaust loud enough to set off ever alarm in the parking lot.
A little before spring break one year, one of the brothers and I was talking about going to Panama City Beach for spring break. Of course moolah was the biggest concern. We were in high school after all. My friend mentioned that his parents were going down and that we could stay with them. This guys parents where cool as hell, what time we came and went was absolutely no concern, knowing his parents they were going to stay in a nice place (bonus). Then he laid the deal maker down on me, if I went we got to take the T-Bucket and the 32. Can we leave now!
Think about it, a young guy with sweet hot rods at the biggest spring break spot, I was in heaven. Spring break couldn’t get there fast enough.
The day of the trip comes and we are both smiling like a couple of rats eating cheese, even though it was a bit cool (probably in the 50’s). In typical fashion we make a quick check to make sure that we have everything before we head out and then go to fill up before we head out. Since these where hand made cars we stopped every now and then just to make sure that they were running fine and so on. At one point my friends dad had decided that the cars where fine and that we didn’t have to stop any more.
There we are heading down the highway being the center of attention to everyone going in both directions. My friend’s parents in the lead in the 32 with my friend and I following in the Bucket. For those of you who might not know what a 23 T-Bucket looks like mash here and if you don’t know what a 32 Ford coupe looks like mash here. Damn we were cool …and cold, but we were cool. Damn it was cold. Very shortly after the trip started we both opted for leather jackets. Not long after that we looked like freaking bank robbers, ski masks, gloves, two jackets, sun glasses and scarves. But we were cool. Shivering like a Chihuahua trying to shit out a peach seed, but we were cool.
Smelling that salt air when we finally got there made it all worth while. The girls in bikinis didn’t hurt either. It was awesome, we were damn near famous. We check in and couldn’t wait to get out and cruise. But we had to play it cool and not geek out. So we went and got something to eat with the parental units and put our plan together. We hopped in the 23 and scoped out the area, made sure to cruise by the beach to make our very loud presence know and so on. That night we decided to cruise the strip and look for tail… I mean see how everyone was doing. It didn’t take us long to realize that this car, which had about the same horsepower as the space shuttle, was not made to cruise in barely moving strip traffic. It was so powerful and geared so low that when we were stopping I had to pull up on the steering wheel to hold the brake pedal down. It didn’t take long to decide that when we were not moving to put it in park. Oh, one thing about that, this car had a slap shifter in it, but was put in backwards on purpose (long story, don’t ask), so instead of park being at the top of the column it was at the bottom. It can be a little confusing. So there we are with the car in park being too cool for everyone around us when traffic finally starts to move, I put the car in what I thought was drive but apparently it was reverse. I figured this out when I pushed down the gas pedal and we went backwards. You know that saying “frozen in fear”, that was the girl behind us in the little Honda Civic that we damn near plowed into. Fortunately I was able to stop the car from changing the aerodynamics of her Civic. I get it in drive and off we go, in the right direction this time.
Ironically I had just told my friend that I bet that car would cause a wreck that week because of people not paying attention, I know, I am good!
After cruising for a bit we needed some petrol and pulled into a gas station. Just as an FYI, if you accidentally put diesel into a blown 23 T-Bucket because you were looking at chicks, when the diesel gets to the cylinders and ignites it will shoot a big ass flame out of the blower. So we had to call the dad and he had to get a bucket from the maintenance guy at the condos so that we could drain the 8 gallons of diesel that some brainchild put into this car. Even as we were sitting there with draining the diesel out we were still cool. After making us feel like complete dumbasses his dad went back to the condo and we went back to cruising the strip for a bit. Remember how I was telling you about how powerful this car was and how it was not built for all of the cruising, well there is another reason this is true. The engine on this car gets hot, damn hot. It didn’t take us long to realize that we needed to get some air blowing over the radiator or we were going to have a problem. So we pull off of the strip to go hit some of the back roads for a bit. No sooner had we pulled off had I decided that to get air blowing on the radiator that we had to get moving so I punched it. If you looked at the pictures in the links above you realize that there isn’t much to this car, so the simple math of light weight car + extremely strong motor + dumbass standing on the gas pedal = the front wheels launching off the ground and two idiots screaming (literally) down a side road while doing a wheelie in a car. Thankfully my cat like reflexes told me to get off the gas pretty quickly. After repeating “holy shit” about 50,000 times each we both did a quick “are we dead” check and decided that we survived.
But we still had to get the car cooled off and we didn’t want to wait on it to cool on its own. As we are making our way to one of the back roads so we can haul ass and get the temps down some jackass in a mustang is trying to race us, yeah we smoked his ass and he suddenly decided that he had to turn, pussy. So we get the car cooled off and head back to the strip. After another hour or so of bumper to bumper, barely moving traffic the temps go up again. But this time we were at a prime place to actually pull over and let the car cool off, right in the middle of the strip. We pull off the road right by the beach (nice breeze blowing, I am a smart cookie) and proceed to hang out on the car watching the traffic. It was great, we were getting cat calls and invited to parties like it was going out of style. It was like the girls where coming out of the sand they were everywhere, life was great. A couple of girls pulled over behind us and where chatting with us for a bit when I noticed that there was no more traffic on the road in the direction that we were facing. The last car was right beside where we pulled over and then nothing as far as we could see. It was weird. Right after I noticed that I kept hearing this noise, this sort of winding noise. I checked and the fan on the car wasn’t running, the fuel pump wasn’t running but I could not figure out what this little noise was and it was getting louder. About this time I see a little light flickering in the distance. It was some guy on a scooter and he was hauling ass (for a scooter). As he got closer we could tell that he was not paying attention to the traffic but was looking at us. Then BAM he slammed at full speed into the car that was beside our car. He flew over their car and crashed face first into the back windshield car in front of them. His little red scooter literally broke into pieces. But it was like something from the circus, the guy rockets himself head first into the back glass of this car, lands on his feet does a 360 looking around and then collapses on the street. A complete WTF moment. Out of instinct we start to pick up the pieces of his scooter and someone went to go call the medics. When we realized that this guy was going to probably be ok was the exact same time that we realized that we had been drinking and that we need to bounce! We were out of there, slinging sand all along the way. Sorry, but I am not going to jail because of the human crash test dummy.
Some time later we were back on the strip and happened to be in the area where the human spitwad tried to carpool at 50 MPH when a cop motions us over. F’ing great, we are going to jail and there are so many reasons why: no seat belts; I have no idea if this car is street legal; the tail lights had this blue piece on them that made them light up purple which I heard was illegal; minor intox; no catalytic converter; being loud as fuck; DUI; oh and that hauling ass after that dude went X-games with that scooter. We pull over and shut the car off and I start to go for my wallet when the cop starts to ask me all of these questions, none of which were can I see your licenses. He says that he has seen us around and then proceeds to ask if the blower is really hooked up to which my friend interjected “You damn right it is!” Thanks jackass. So the cop just keeps asking questions like how many horses does it have, what size is the motor, this and that. Which I am sure is going to be used against us in a court of law. And then he ask us if we can fire it up and let him hear it. Sure, why not, if I’m going to the pokey might as well make it a good one right. So I crank the car and the cop says “rev it up” and I give it this little baby rev. The cops says “no man, get on it” and grabs the fucking throttle and opens that bitch up. People all around jumped, car alarms are going off, people are coming out of their hotel rooms to see what was going on. Turns out he is just a gear head too. So now we are playing this to our advantage we got a cop buddy. Man we let him sit in it, rev it like a drunken hells angel, take pictures and anything else he wanted. After about 20 minutes or smoozing with local law enforcement he ask us if it would spin the tires (33 inch Mickey Thompsons) we told him no because there is just too much traction and not enough weight. He doesn’t believe us and says he wants us to get on it to see. So he stops traffic and lets the traffic on the road get a good ways down the road. Then he tells us to “get on it but don’t half ass it”. So we pull out onto the road, I tell my friend to hang on and we punch it again. We pulled the wheels off the ground about two to three feet or so and got off of it long enough for the tires to touch the ground again and kept on keeping on. When we circled back around this cop was waving and giving us a big thumbs up. I just knew we were going to jail. It was getting late and we had enough fun for one night so we decided to head back to the condo.
I don’t know what we did but for some reason my friend’s dad was really happy the next day and let us carry the 32 out that night. We loved that car. It was totally pimp with a TV, cell phone (this was almost 20 years ago) and the most important thing heat/ac.
After the 8,372,623 time we heard “hey, ZZ Top” it started to get a bit annoying and people started seeing the back of our middle fingers. The car was red just like the car on the cover of “Eliminator” but we also realized that it looked like that car, even way back when we made it. So we didn’t need every geek on the strip to remind us. That car was sweet and so much fun to drive and you would be surprised how many girls you can cram into a car like that. After scoring some brew we wanted to head to a place where we wouldn’t get so much attention so we headed to this steak house and parked out back to drink for a bit. One of the kitchen staff guys came out to have a smoke and saw the car, we thought we were busted but he was cool and wanted to check out the car. Then he went and got some of his buddies and they will all kinds of excited and wanted to take pictures with the car and so on. Being the jackass that I am, I told them if they could score me and my friend a couple steak dinners we would let them take all the pictures that they wanted and I will be damned if they didn’t hook us up. Snap away fellas. Even the manager came out to get his picture taken with it. We just wanted to drink beer without getting busted by the cops, like I said we were still in high school.
After the free meal we decided to see just how lucky we were, off to the bars Batman! We roll into the parking lot of one of the biggest clubs on the beach, La Vela, and just ask the door guy if there was a place we could park where no one would mess with the car. The guy moves some cones so that we could park right by the door and he welcomes us in. We realized that something about those cars made door guys forget to id us. Advantage us! And since those were the only two cars we had with us we had to take one of them every time we went somewhere. Not getting carded makes up for all of the other hi-jinks.
Don’t get dead
A little before spring break one year, one of the brothers and I was talking about going to Panama City Beach for spring break. Of course moolah was the biggest concern. We were in high school after all. My friend mentioned that his parents were going down and that we could stay with them. This guys parents where cool as hell, what time we came and went was absolutely no concern, knowing his parents they were going to stay in a nice place (bonus). Then he laid the deal maker down on me, if I went we got to take the T-Bucket and the 32. Can we leave now!
Think about it, a young guy with sweet hot rods at the biggest spring break spot, I was in heaven. Spring break couldn’t get there fast enough.
The day of the trip comes and we are both smiling like a couple of rats eating cheese, even though it was a bit cool (probably in the 50’s). In typical fashion we make a quick check to make sure that we have everything before we head out and then go to fill up before we head out. Since these where hand made cars we stopped every now and then just to make sure that they were running fine and so on. At one point my friends dad had decided that the cars where fine and that we didn’t have to stop any more.
There we are heading down the highway being the center of attention to everyone going in both directions. My friend’s parents in the lead in the 32 with my friend and I following in the Bucket. For those of you who might not know what a 23 T-Bucket looks like mash here and if you don’t know what a 32 Ford coupe looks like mash here. Damn we were cool …and cold, but we were cool. Damn it was cold. Very shortly after the trip started we both opted for leather jackets. Not long after that we looked like freaking bank robbers, ski masks, gloves, two jackets, sun glasses and scarves. But we were cool. Shivering like a Chihuahua trying to shit out a peach seed, but we were cool.
Smelling that salt air when we finally got there made it all worth while. The girls in bikinis didn’t hurt either. It was awesome, we were damn near famous. We check in and couldn’t wait to get out and cruise. But we had to play it cool and not geek out. So we went and got something to eat with the parental units and put our plan together. We hopped in the 23 and scoped out the area, made sure to cruise by the beach to make our very loud presence know and so on. That night we decided to cruise the strip and look for tail… I mean see how everyone was doing. It didn’t take us long to realize that this car, which had about the same horsepower as the space shuttle, was not made to cruise in barely moving strip traffic. It was so powerful and geared so low that when we were stopping I had to pull up on the steering wheel to hold the brake pedal down. It didn’t take long to decide that when we were not moving to put it in park. Oh, one thing about that, this car had a slap shifter in it, but was put in backwards on purpose (long story, don’t ask), so instead of park being at the top of the column it was at the bottom. It can be a little confusing. So there we are with the car in park being too cool for everyone around us when traffic finally starts to move, I put the car in what I thought was drive but apparently it was reverse. I figured this out when I pushed down the gas pedal and we went backwards. You know that saying “frozen in fear”, that was the girl behind us in the little Honda Civic that we damn near plowed into. Fortunately I was able to stop the car from changing the aerodynamics of her Civic. I get it in drive and off we go, in the right direction this time.
Ironically I had just told my friend that I bet that car would cause a wreck that week because of people not paying attention, I know, I am good!
After cruising for a bit we needed some petrol and pulled into a gas station. Just as an FYI, if you accidentally put diesel into a blown 23 T-Bucket because you were looking at chicks, when the diesel gets to the cylinders and ignites it will shoot a big ass flame out of the blower. So we had to call the dad and he had to get a bucket from the maintenance guy at the condos so that we could drain the 8 gallons of diesel that some brainchild put into this car. Even as we were sitting there with draining the diesel out we were still cool. After making us feel like complete dumbasses his dad went back to the condo and we went back to cruising the strip for a bit. Remember how I was telling you about how powerful this car was and how it was not built for all of the cruising, well there is another reason this is true. The engine on this car gets hot, damn hot. It didn’t take us long to realize that we needed to get some air blowing over the radiator or we were going to have a problem. So we pull off of the strip to go hit some of the back roads for a bit. No sooner had we pulled off had I decided that to get air blowing on the radiator that we had to get moving so I punched it. If you looked at the pictures in the links above you realize that there isn’t much to this car, so the simple math of light weight car + extremely strong motor + dumbass standing on the gas pedal = the front wheels launching off the ground and two idiots screaming (literally) down a side road while doing a wheelie in a car. Thankfully my cat like reflexes told me to get off the gas pretty quickly. After repeating “holy shit” about 50,000 times each we both did a quick “are we dead” check and decided that we survived.
But we still had to get the car cooled off and we didn’t want to wait on it to cool on its own. As we are making our way to one of the back roads so we can haul ass and get the temps down some jackass in a mustang is trying to race us, yeah we smoked his ass and he suddenly decided that he had to turn, pussy. So we get the car cooled off and head back to the strip. After another hour or so of bumper to bumper, barely moving traffic the temps go up again. But this time we were at a prime place to actually pull over and let the car cool off, right in the middle of the strip. We pull off the road right by the beach (nice breeze blowing, I am a smart cookie) and proceed to hang out on the car watching the traffic. It was great, we were getting cat calls and invited to parties like it was going out of style. It was like the girls where coming out of the sand they were everywhere, life was great. A couple of girls pulled over behind us and where chatting with us for a bit when I noticed that there was no more traffic on the road in the direction that we were facing. The last car was right beside where we pulled over and then nothing as far as we could see. It was weird. Right after I noticed that I kept hearing this noise, this sort of winding noise. I checked and the fan on the car wasn’t running, the fuel pump wasn’t running but I could not figure out what this little noise was and it was getting louder. About this time I see a little light flickering in the distance. It was some guy on a scooter and he was hauling ass (for a scooter). As he got closer we could tell that he was not paying attention to the traffic but was looking at us. Then BAM he slammed at full speed into the car that was beside our car. He flew over their car and crashed face first into the back windshield car in front of them. His little red scooter literally broke into pieces. But it was like something from the circus, the guy rockets himself head first into the back glass of this car, lands on his feet does a 360 looking around and then collapses on the street. A complete WTF moment. Out of instinct we start to pick up the pieces of his scooter and someone went to go call the medics. When we realized that this guy was going to probably be ok was the exact same time that we realized that we had been drinking and that we need to bounce! We were out of there, slinging sand all along the way. Sorry, but I am not going to jail because of the human crash test dummy.
Some time later we were back on the strip and happened to be in the area where the human spitwad tried to carpool at 50 MPH when a cop motions us over. F’ing great, we are going to jail and there are so many reasons why: no seat belts; I have no idea if this car is street legal; the tail lights had this blue piece on them that made them light up purple which I heard was illegal; minor intox; no catalytic converter; being loud as fuck; DUI; oh and that hauling ass after that dude went X-games with that scooter. We pull over and shut the car off and I start to go for my wallet when the cop starts to ask me all of these questions, none of which were can I see your licenses. He says that he has seen us around and then proceeds to ask if the blower is really hooked up to which my friend interjected “You damn right it is!” Thanks jackass. So the cop just keeps asking questions like how many horses does it have, what size is the motor, this and that. Which I am sure is going to be used against us in a court of law. And then he ask us if we can fire it up and let him hear it. Sure, why not, if I’m going to the pokey might as well make it a good one right. So I crank the car and the cop says “rev it up” and I give it this little baby rev. The cops says “no man, get on it” and grabs the fucking throttle and opens that bitch up. People all around jumped, car alarms are going off, people are coming out of their hotel rooms to see what was going on. Turns out he is just a gear head too. So now we are playing this to our advantage we got a cop buddy. Man we let him sit in it, rev it like a drunken hells angel, take pictures and anything else he wanted. After about 20 minutes or smoozing with local law enforcement he ask us if it would spin the tires (33 inch Mickey Thompsons) we told him no because there is just too much traction and not enough weight. He doesn’t believe us and says he wants us to get on it to see. So he stops traffic and lets the traffic on the road get a good ways down the road. Then he tells us to “get on it but don’t half ass it”. So we pull out onto the road, I tell my friend to hang on and we punch it again. We pulled the wheels off the ground about two to three feet or so and got off of it long enough for the tires to touch the ground again and kept on keeping on. When we circled back around this cop was waving and giving us a big thumbs up. I just knew we were going to jail. It was getting late and we had enough fun for one night so we decided to head back to the condo.
I don’t know what we did but for some reason my friend’s dad was really happy the next day and let us carry the 32 out that night. We loved that car. It was totally pimp with a TV, cell phone (this was almost 20 years ago) and the most important thing heat/ac.
After the 8,372,623 time we heard “hey, ZZ Top” it started to get a bit annoying and people started seeing the back of our middle fingers. The car was red just like the car on the cover of “Eliminator” but we also realized that it looked like that car, even way back when we made it. So we didn’t need every geek on the strip to remind us. That car was sweet and so much fun to drive and you would be surprised how many girls you can cram into a car like that. After scoring some brew we wanted to head to a place where we wouldn’t get so much attention so we headed to this steak house and parked out back to drink for a bit. One of the kitchen staff guys came out to have a smoke and saw the car, we thought we were busted but he was cool and wanted to check out the car. Then he went and got some of his buddies and they will all kinds of excited and wanted to take pictures with the car and so on. Being the jackass that I am, I told them if they could score me and my friend a couple steak dinners we would let them take all the pictures that they wanted and I will be damned if they didn’t hook us up. Snap away fellas. Even the manager came out to get his picture taken with it. We just wanted to drink beer without getting busted by the cops, like I said we were still in high school.
After the free meal we decided to see just how lucky we were, off to the bars Batman! We roll into the parking lot of one of the biggest clubs on the beach, La Vela, and just ask the door guy if there was a place we could park where no one would mess with the car. The guy moves some cones so that we could park right by the door and he welcomes us in. We realized that something about those cars made door guys forget to id us. Advantage us! And since those were the only two cars we had with us we had to take one of them every time we went somewhere. Not getting carded makes up for all of the other hi-jinks.
Don’t get dead
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Dear Sweezey - Question about divorce, and kids
Dear Sweezey,
The courts seem to give custody of the kids to the woman most of the time, with the view, that they will be better suited with the mother.
If this is true, why do we have so many screwed up kids over the years?
I mean really, since divorce has become the norm in this country, along with mothers getting the kids, we sure have had alot of bad kids in this country.
- Decisions from the courts
Dear Decisions from the courts,
Ok numb nuts, the courts give custody to the parent who seems to be best suited to take care of the children on a daily basis. The reason the courts seem to side with the mother is because most of you dads are shit heads and aren’t man enough to take care of yourself much less dependent children. You see these children are, as you say, screwed up because of dildos like you. Why don’t you man up and be responsible for your actions? Woah, crazy thought huh. Yeah, why don’t you put away guitar hero and spend time with your children? It’s real easy to blame the mom when you are looking for a reason to blame on why your kids are shitheads as opposed to actually trying to do something about it. Yeah, F it, take the easy road. Isn’t that what your dad taught you?
I got $100 that says you got some guido over styled/gelled hair do and some oversized designer shades and a closet full of Armani Exchange t-shirts. Am I wrong? And after you get divorced I bet you will have an apartment in the coolest part of town, with your leased Mercedes in the parking lot. Once you conceive a child, the adult thing to do is to focus on doing everything in your power to take care of that child in every way possible, NOT to figure out a way to spend more time with your boys so that you don’t have to be bothered by being an adult. Moms aren’t men so they can’t always be both the female and the male role model is a child’s life. The children need to know that their dad is there and that he is worth a damn. If I was ever to get divorced, I would fight tooth and nail for my children and my wife is a great mom. And the mom doesn’t always get the children dipshit. I have a very good friend who has custody of his boys and he takes very good care of them. He even stepped up and is raising one of his ex-wife’s boys who isn’t his. Why? Because it’s what a real man does.
I suggest that you find a way to pull your head out, drop those losers that you hang out with and go find a real man to model yourself after. Go find out where your local cub scouts meet and try to make friends with the scout leader. Trust me EVERYONE will come out better in the long run.
Believe me it’s not the moms who are screwing up children it’s the dads. There are very few single mothers that I have even seen, much less known who have not busted their ass to do everything they can to raises their children the right way. And for the most part, they don’t say anything.
So quiet being a pussy boy and grow a pair.
- Sweezey
E-mail me for advice on anything at DearSweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
The courts seem to give custody of the kids to the woman most of the time, with the view, that they will be better suited with the mother.
If this is true, why do we have so many screwed up kids over the years?
I mean really, since divorce has become the norm in this country, along with mothers getting the kids, we sure have had alot of bad kids in this country.
- Decisions from the courts
Dear Decisions from the courts,
Ok numb nuts, the courts give custody to the parent who seems to be best suited to take care of the children on a daily basis. The reason the courts seem to side with the mother is because most of you dads are shit heads and aren’t man enough to take care of yourself much less dependent children. You see these children are, as you say, screwed up because of dildos like you. Why don’t you man up and be responsible for your actions? Woah, crazy thought huh. Yeah, why don’t you put away guitar hero and spend time with your children? It’s real easy to blame the mom when you are looking for a reason to blame on why your kids are shitheads as opposed to actually trying to do something about it. Yeah, F it, take the easy road. Isn’t that what your dad taught you?
I got $100 that says you got some guido over styled/gelled hair do and some oversized designer shades and a closet full of Armani Exchange t-shirts. Am I wrong? And after you get divorced I bet you will have an apartment in the coolest part of town, with your leased Mercedes in the parking lot. Once you conceive a child, the adult thing to do is to focus on doing everything in your power to take care of that child in every way possible, NOT to figure out a way to spend more time with your boys so that you don’t have to be bothered by being an adult. Moms aren’t men so they can’t always be both the female and the male role model is a child’s life. The children need to know that their dad is there and that he is worth a damn. If I was ever to get divorced, I would fight tooth and nail for my children and my wife is a great mom. And the mom doesn’t always get the children dipshit. I have a very good friend who has custody of his boys and he takes very good care of them. He even stepped up and is raising one of his ex-wife’s boys who isn’t his. Why? Because it’s what a real man does.
I suggest that you find a way to pull your head out, drop those losers that you hang out with and go find a real man to model yourself after. Go find out where your local cub scouts meet and try to make friends with the scout leader. Trust me EVERYONE will come out better in the long run.
Believe me it’s not the moms who are screwing up children it’s the dads. There are very few single mothers that I have even seen, much less known who have not busted their ass to do everything they can to raises their children the right way. And for the most part, they don’t say anything.
So quiet being a pussy boy and grow a pair.
- Sweezey
E-mail me for advice on anything at DearSweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Dear Sweezey - Why chivalry is dead
Dear Sweezey,
So this woman in a store is frantic because she lost her billfold, so I went to find the manger while she continued to look around. It had been turned in up front and I pointed her out to the manager. No big deal. I only took a moment out of my day to do the right thing and without me she would have gotten it back anyway. But then she brushed right past me without a word, then later nearly ran me over in the parking lot. So she was in a hurry. Aren't we all? I have no sense of entitlement, but geeze, not even a thank you. The luxury sports car with vanity plates and the fact that her ass is as wide as my kitchen table may be an indication of what she is, hmm?
- Paula
Dear Paula,
Chivalry is defined as the sum of the ideal qualifications of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor, and dexterity in arms.
And you say that you “have no sense of entitlement”. Entitlement is defined as the act of entitling. To save you some time, entitling means to give (a person or thing) a title, right, or claim to something; furnish with grounds for laying claim.
Now you claim that you have no sense of entitlement yet you felt compelled to write and bitch about some other dame not bowing down to kiss your ass when even you yourself said that she would have gotten her billfold back anyway. And then you go on to belittle this woman. What a bitch.
Even think that maybe she was “frantic” because she had been looking for her billfold for so long that it made her late to pick up her 9 year old son from soccer practice and that there would be no one there to stay with her son and that the little boy and that there was a child molesting maniac who likes to hang out by the soccer fields? Yeah, how dare she want to keep that poor 9 year old little boy safe and sound instead of bending over backwards to tell you what a fantastic person you are for doing next to nothing.
So tell me what does a luxury sports car, vanity plates and as you say an ass as wide as your kitchen table indicate? It sounds to me like it indicates that she has some money. Is that what pisses you off? That her life is good and that yours sucks and that you are pissed off because of all of the bad choices you have and continue to make? Since I am a gambling man, I am willing to bet that she is MUCH more attractive than you are and that is the reason that you feel the need to lash out and the only think you can, her ass. And I will double up my bet that the only person who thinks that she almost ran you over in the parking lot is you.
You need meds, seriously, you know happy pills.
So if chivalry is dead you are an accomplice to murder.
- Sweezey
Email for advice on anything at dearsweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
So this woman in a store is frantic because she lost her billfold, so I went to find the manger while she continued to look around. It had been turned in up front and I pointed her out to the manager. No big deal. I only took a moment out of my day to do the right thing and without me she would have gotten it back anyway. But then she brushed right past me without a word, then later nearly ran me over in the parking lot. So she was in a hurry. Aren't we all? I have no sense of entitlement, but geeze, not even a thank you. The luxury sports car with vanity plates and the fact that her ass is as wide as my kitchen table may be an indication of what she is, hmm?
- Paula
Dear Paula,
Chivalry is defined as the sum of the ideal qualifications of a knight, including courtesy, generosity, valor, and dexterity in arms.
And you say that you “have no sense of entitlement”. Entitlement is defined as the act of entitling. To save you some time, entitling means to give (a person or thing) a title, right, or claim to something; furnish with grounds for laying claim.
Now you claim that you have no sense of entitlement yet you felt compelled to write and bitch about some other dame not bowing down to kiss your ass when even you yourself said that she would have gotten her billfold back anyway. And then you go on to belittle this woman. What a bitch.
Even think that maybe she was “frantic” because she had been looking for her billfold for so long that it made her late to pick up her 9 year old son from soccer practice and that there would be no one there to stay with her son and that the little boy and that there was a child molesting maniac who likes to hang out by the soccer fields? Yeah, how dare she want to keep that poor 9 year old little boy safe and sound instead of bending over backwards to tell you what a fantastic person you are for doing next to nothing.
So tell me what does a luxury sports car, vanity plates and as you say an ass as wide as your kitchen table indicate? It sounds to me like it indicates that she has some money. Is that what pisses you off? That her life is good and that yours sucks and that you are pissed off because of all of the bad choices you have and continue to make? Since I am a gambling man, I am willing to bet that she is MUCH more attractive than you are and that is the reason that you feel the need to lash out and the only think you can, her ass. And I will double up my bet that the only person who thinks that she almost ran you over in the parking lot is you.
You need meds, seriously, you know happy pills.
So if chivalry is dead you are an accomplice to murder.
- Sweezey
Email for advice on anything at dearsweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Dear Sweezey Prostitution/Dating
Dear Sweezey,
I see a Women I think she is sexy,attractive etc: as a single man I ask her out knowing I want to have Sex with her 7 she knows she wants the same. So we go to dinner,movies etc: I might spend hundreds of dollars before we have sex & I might not all women are different in that way but they to want the sex...............................I see a Pic & info on a web site of a attractive sexy women up front I know for $100 I can have sex immediatly is there really that much difference ...........between the women I have to spend money on or the women I just give it to! Just a thought??
- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous,
The difference is that the hookers you are looking at online will do anyone or anything with the cash. And the girls who you take to dinner and so on won’t have sex with a illiterate moron like yourself in fear that one of your retarded super sperm actually reaching their egg.
I hope that they talk you into taking them to the best places in town and that they are some how able to keep stringing you along long enough to spend every penny you have on them.
Maybe if you took the time and effort that you are spending on trying to get laid and focused it on making a better person out of yourself your luck might change. Apparently you are not graced with rugged good lucks or personality, at all, in the very least.
Try letting the big head do the thinking for a while, we got more than enough idiots in this world already.
- Sweezey
Email me for advice on anything at dearsweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
I see a Women I think she is sexy,attractive etc: as a single man I ask her out knowing I want to have Sex with her 7 she knows she wants the same. So we go to dinner,movies etc: I might spend hundreds of dollars before we have sex & I might not all women are different in that way but they to want the sex...............................I see a Pic & info on a web site of a attractive sexy women up front I know for $100 I can have sex immediatly is there really that much difference ...........between the women I have to spend money on or the women I just give it to! Just a thought??
- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous,
The difference is that the hookers you are looking at online will do anyone or anything with the cash. And the girls who you take to dinner and so on won’t have sex with a illiterate moron like yourself in fear that one of your retarded super sperm actually reaching their egg.
I hope that they talk you into taking them to the best places in town and that they are some how able to keep stringing you along long enough to spend every penny you have on them.
Maybe if you took the time and effort that you are spending on trying to get laid and focused it on making a better person out of yourself your luck might change. Apparently you are not graced with rugged good lucks or personality, at all, in the very least.
Try letting the big head do the thinking for a while, we got more than enough idiots in this world already.
- Sweezey
Email me for advice on anything at dearsweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
Thursday, March 05, 2009
Dear Sweezey - My standards must be SO high
Dear Sweezey,
Maybe tabloid media has skewed my reality, but some of these guys who think they are hot... just aren't. I can't believe some of you. Granted I see no problem with a couple extra pounds from too many nights out with the fellas drinking beer, but anything more than 10-15 pounds overweight there is just no excuse for unless it's something glandular.
I know I'm gonna get a lot of hate responses to this but seriously fellas... Put some effort into your appearance, get to the gym a couple days a week, actually look to see if the clothes you put on your back look well put-together or not, do something with your hair, & maintain good hygiene PLEASE!
Some of you look like you haven't done anything in weeks but play Halo and mainline big macs, yet you expect women who are attractive and take care of themselves to wanna hit it? Think again, Pal!
If you want a female that is on my level looks-wise, then you gotta be on my level looks wise too.
And spare me the reply rants of how narcissistic I am to judge based on looks. I don't think it's too much to ask with all the people in the world out there that a guy I take interest in be both stellar looks wise and personality wise.
- Seriously
Dear Thinks Entirely Way Too Much of Herself, I mean Seriously,
First off, you’re an idiot. Why did you e-mail me? Nowhere in your diatribe of bitterness did you ask for advice on anything. Is it that you just want to bitch because you are so unhappy with yourself and your life?
You lost all credibility when you said “tabloid media”. You Britney Spears loving, sweating what Paris Hilton is doing, Lindsey Lohan following twit I noticed that you failed to include a photo of yourself so that the world could be enlightened with by your beauty. I got a feeling that you look like what a vulture threw up.
So you are ok with 10 - 15 pounds? Why not 16 pounds? For some reason that’s just gross? How many extra tons are you hauling around in those Venezia jeans? Did you set 10 - 15 pounds as an acceptable amount because you have convinced yourself that you can get down to 10 - 15 pounds overweight with no problems?
Moving on, when you are not busy butchering modern grammar and English using words like “wanna” and “gotta” as opposed to “want to” and “got to” what are you doing to know what guys who play Halo and mainline Big Macs look like? Ever hear the phrase that you can smell your own kind? *sniff sniff*
The funny thing is you come off as wanting a man who is so built and handsome and perfect in everyway. But we all know that you would be on your knees polishing the most grotesquely fat/ugly man’s knob if he had enough in the bank. And you would do it with a big smile on your face. And you would go from being a bitch to being a whore, either way it suits you.
You see the guys who are hitting on you are on your level, but it’s your social level. So if you want guys who are on your levels looks-wise as you say, why don’t you move up levels tact-wise? Trust me you have lots of room for movement. A little decorum goes a long way.
Oh and I don’t think that you are narcissistic, I think that you are a dumb ass. Remember, bitch only comes in one flavor and it’s you. Enjoy being alone for the rest of your life.
- Sweezey
E-mail me for advice on anything at dearsweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
Maybe tabloid media has skewed my reality, but some of these guys who think they are hot... just aren't. I can't believe some of you. Granted I see no problem with a couple extra pounds from too many nights out with the fellas drinking beer, but anything more than 10-15 pounds overweight there is just no excuse for unless it's something glandular.
I know I'm gonna get a lot of hate responses to this but seriously fellas... Put some effort into your appearance, get to the gym a couple days a week, actually look to see if the clothes you put on your back look well put-together or not, do something with your hair, & maintain good hygiene PLEASE!
Some of you look like you haven't done anything in weeks but play Halo and mainline big macs, yet you expect women who are attractive and take care of themselves to wanna hit it? Think again, Pal!
If you want a female that is on my level looks-wise, then you gotta be on my level looks wise too.
And spare me the reply rants of how narcissistic I am to judge based on looks. I don't think it's too much to ask with all the people in the world out there that a guy I take interest in be both stellar looks wise and personality wise.
- Seriously
Dear Thinks Entirely Way Too Much of Herself, I mean Seriously,
First off, you’re an idiot. Why did you e-mail me? Nowhere in your diatribe of bitterness did you ask for advice on anything. Is it that you just want to bitch because you are so unhappy with yourself and your life?
You lost all credibility when you said “tabloid media”. You Britney Spears loving, sweating what Paris Hilton is doing, Lindsey Lohan following twit I noticed that you failed to include a photo of yourself so that the world could be enlightened with by your beauty. I got a feeling that you look like what a vulture threw up.
So you are ok with 10 - 15 pounds? Why not 16 pounds? For some reason that’s just gross? How many extra tons are you hauling around in those Venezia jeans? Did you set 10 - 15 pounds as an acceptable amount because you have convinced yourself that you can get down to 10 - 15 pounds overweight with no problems?
Moving on, when you are not busy butchering modern grammar and English using words like “wanna” and “gotta” as opposed to “want to” and “got to” what are you doing to know what guys who play Halo and mainline Big Macs look like? Ever hear the phrase that you can smell your own kind? *sniff sniff*
The funny thing is you come off as wanting a man who is so built and handsome and perfect in everyway. But we all know that you would be on your knees polishing the most grotesquely fat/ugly man’s knob if he had enough in the bank. And you would do it with a big smile on your face. And you would go from being a bitch to being a whore, either way it suits you.
You see the guys who are hitting on you are on your level, but it’s your social level. So if you want guys who are on your levels looks-wise as you say, why don’t you move up levels tact-wise? Trust me you have lots of room for movement. A little decorum goes a long way.
Oh and I don’t think that you are narcissistic, I think that you are a dumb ass. Remember, bitch only comes in one flavor and it’s you. Enjoy being alone for the rest of your life.
- Sweezey
E-mail me for advice on anything at dearsweezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, March 03, 2009
Dear Sweezey - I want to sell my kidneys!!!!
Dear Sweezey,
I want to sell my kidneys. Can I get money for one of my kidneys?
- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous,
I’ll give you a dollar for one or $20 for the set, but only if you take them out yourself.
- Sweezey
E-mail me for advice on anything at dearsweeezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
I want to sell my kidneys. Can I get money for one of my kidneys?
- Anonymous
Dear Anonymous,
I’ll give you a dollar for one or $20 for the set, but only if you take them out yourself.
- Sweezey
E-mail me for advice on anything at dearsweeezey@gmail.com
Don’t get dead
Friday, February 13, 2009
Guys rules for going to a club
Guys, this one is for you. With “Singles Awareness Day” or as some call it “Valentines Day” being tomorrow I thought that I would share with you some rules to help you find that lovely lady.
First off, women don’t want to be with some push over smuck. So be confident. Nice is for pussies, be a man. Jesus son, grow a pair! So if you ask a chick to dance and she brushes you off, tell her that you didn’t ask her for head just to dance and that she shouldn’t be such a cunt and to lighten up. They love that, drives them crazy.
Another thing that would help you is if you are so inclined to actually “dance” (god help you) remember these few rules for being a man while dancing (shiver).
• NEVER let your arms get above your shoulders. What are you some kind of queen? You’re not bringing sexy back if you look like it’s raining men, get it?
• Don’t ever ever ever ever ever sing along with the song. I don’t care how great of a song it is, never sing along with it.
• For the love of everything holy, don’t do the running man, the lawnmower, the sprinkler or the shaking dice thing. You only make yourself look like a bigger goober.
• Remember that dames think of dancing like vertical sex, so turn her around, bend her over at the waist and pound away!
• Never dance to more than one song at a time. Trust me, if you are a guy, you don’t dance well. Don’t make a huge ass out of yourself. And if you do actually have decent moves, leave them wanting more.
• No fucking techno, EVER!
Let’s move along to drinking. Beer is fine but is gives off a certain financial limit vibe. Drink mixed drinks. And not some fruity crap either. No drinks with umbrellas or fruit in them. What are you, Fabio? And for the sake of men everywhere, no bright colored drinks! Ever! Drinks should be dark in color. Come on you pansy, man up! And another thing, don’t drink out of a fucking staw, you are not in kindergarten. You got fuzz on your peaches right? Show it!
Make sure that you don’t dress like a dildo too. You’re going to a club to try to get laid, not an interview. No starch in anything you are wearing. And more than two buttons (starting at the very top of your shirt) unbuttoned is completely unacceptable. Come on dude, not t-shirts or anything with a hole in it. And don’t wear sneakers or tennis shoes, if you don’t have normal shoes you are not ready for a woman anyway. Wear a belt but don’t clip ANYTHING to it. And make sure that the belt and the shoes match. And no loud colors! Ever! If you are so inclined as to wear cologne pay very important attention to this part, JUST A FUCKING LITTLE BIT OF IT. Don’t bath in the shit. Let me give you some help here, go to the mall and look at the price tags of the colognes in the case. Find one that is more than you would pay for a bottle of cologne and find that tester bottle. Two sprays of it, no more. And if your hair looks like you just got out of a wind tunnel, well you are on your own, I can’t help you. Oh and no sunglasses. The more accessories that you have, the more you look … well just sad. Drawing attention to yourself = got nothing going for yourself.
Talking to chicks is crucial. Keep saying this handy little phrase to yourself “shut the fuck up”. And remember it. If you are talking, you are fucking up. Well if you are talking too much. Talking to women is sort of a moving target. Too little talking and you look like the guy who jerks off to Disney movies. Too much talking and you look like the guy who lives with his mom. Work on it, but never ever practice in a mirror. Two sentences at the most and no more than say eight words in a sentence. You want to look smooth, not spastic.
Just trying to help.
Don’t get dead
First off, women don’t want to be with some push over smuck. So be confident. Nice is for pussies, be a man. Jesus son, grow a pair! So if you ask a chick to dance and she brushes you off, tell her that you didn’t ask her for head just to dance and that she shouldn’t be such a cunt and to lighten up. They love that, drives them crazy.
Another thing that would help you is if you are so inclined to actually “dance” (god help you) remember these few rules for being a man while dancing (shiver).
• NEVER let your arms get above your shoulders. What are you some kind of queen? You’re not bringing sexy back if you look like it’s raining men, get it?
• Don’t ever ever ever ever ever sing along with the song. I don’t care how great of a song it is, never sing along with it.
• For the love of everything holy, don’t do the running man, the lawnmower, the sprinkler or the shaking dice thing. You only make yourself look like a bigger goober.
• Remember that dames think of dancing like vertical sex, so turn her around, bend her over at the waist and pound away!
• Never dance to more than one song at a time. Trust me, if you are a guy, you don’t dance well. Don’t make a huge ass out of yourself. And if you do actually have decent moves, leave them wanting more.
• No fucking techno, EVER!
Let’s move along to drinking. Beer is fine but is gives off a certain financial limit vibe. Drink mixed drinks. And not some fruity crap either. No drinks with umbrellas or fruit in them. What are you, Fabio? And for the sake of men everywhere, no bright colored drinks! Ever! Drinks should be dark in color. Come on you pansy, man up! And another thing, don’t drink out of a fucking staw, you are not in kindergarten. You got fuzz on your peaches right? Show it!
Make sure that you don’t dress like a dildo too. You’re going to a club to try to get laid, not an interview. No starch in anything you are wearing. And more than two buttons (starting at the very top of your shirt) unbuttoned is completely unacceptable. Come on dude, not t-shirts or anything with a hole in it. And don’t wear sneakers or tennis shoes, if you don’t have normal shoes you are not ready for a woman anyway. Wear a belt but don’t clip ANYTHING to it. And make sure that the belt and the shoes match. And no loud colors! Ever! If you are so inclined as to wear cologne pay very important attention to this part, JUST A FUCKING LITTLE BIT OF IT. Don’t bath in the shit. Let me give you some help here, go to the mall and look at the price tags of the colognes in the case. Find one that is more than you would pay for a bottle of cologne and find that tester bottle. Two sprays of it, no more. And if your hair looks like you just got out of a wind tunnel, well you are on your own, I can’t help you. Oh and no sunglasses. The more accessories that you have, the more you look … well just sad. Drawing attention to yourself = got nothing going for yourself.
Talking to chicks is crucial. Keep saying this handy little phrase to yourself “shut the fuck up”. And remember it. If you are talking, you are fucking up. Well if you are talking too much. Talking to women is sort of a moving target. Too little talking and you look like the guy who jerks off to Disney movies. Too much talking and you look like the guy who lives with his mom. Work on it, but never ever practice in a mirror. Two sentences at the most and no more than say eight words in a sentence. You want to look smooth, not spastic.
Just trying to help.
Don’t get dead
Monday, February 09, 2009
Nothing says love like …
… a pre-ban assault rifle!
That’s right, nothing screams loving like Glock.
What am I talking about? On the way to work this morning I see a sign for a gun and knife show on Valentines Day over in Fort Worth. I know that EVERY girl that I ever spent Valentines Day with wanted nothing more than to go to a gun show.
So if you are looking for that special gift idea for your loved one on Valentines why not a banana clip for her AK-47? Or maybe a .50 cal?
The thing that I really wonder the most about was, did the person who scheduled this really think this through? Here you have Bubba with access to weapons galore when he has just had his heart broken by Linda Lou all on the day that the words “If I can’t have her nobody can!” get said more than any other time of year. Smooth move ex-lax! Maybe they just need more training or something.
Don’t get dead
That’s right, nothing screams loving like Glock.
What am I talking about? On the way to work this morning I see a sign for a gun and knife show on Valentines Day over in Fort Worth. I know that EVERY girl that I ever spent Valentines Day with wanted nothing more than to go to a gun show.
So if you are looking for that special gift idea for your loved one on Valentines why not a banana clip for her AK-47? Or maybe a .50 cal?
The thing that I really wonder the most about was, did the person who scheduled this really think this through? Here you have Bubba with access to weapons galore when he has just had his heart broken by Linda Lou all on the day that the words “If I can’t have her nobody can!” get said more than any other time of year. Smooth move ex-lax! Maybe they just need more training or something.
Don’t get dead
Wednesday, February 04, 2009
So is that a couple of pigeons in your pants or are you just happy to see me?
So there is a news story where some jackass from Sydney had a couple of pigeons in his pants on a flight (http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090204/ap_on_fe_st/as_odd_australia_pigeon_pants;_ylt=AhNsIhf.qbtjnicNFwyJEcvtiBIF) which was found after some eggs where discovered in a vitamin container in his luggage. So that makes me wonder, what in the hell is this moron doing with pidgins in his pants? Ever see a pigeon? They are winged sewer rats. I saw one eat some barf that a homeless dude left on the sidewalk one day. So what was he doing with them? Actually I guess I should ask why? They are not endangered or worth anything. Damn sure not worth the $70,430 fine that he has now.
But why pigeons? You don’t think he was going to do some creepy sexual thing with them do ya? Do you think he had to turn his phone service off and still felt the need to communicate with others and was going to bring back the carrier pigeon craze?
I think the most ironic part is that he had them on a plane. Like they where never going to experience flight on their own.
Don’t get dead
But why pigeons? You don’t think he was going to do some creepy sexual thing with them do ya? Do you think he had to turn his phone service off and still felt the need to communicate with others and was going to bring back the carrier pigeon craze?
I think the most ironic part is that he had them on a plane. Like they where never going to experience flight on their own.
Don’t get dead
Friday, January 30, 2009
You got to be kidding me
So I was checking out some news today when I came across this article.
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090130/ap_on_re_us/octuplets
And we all know about the Dugger’s with 75 children or what ever and then there is that damn Jon and Kate plus 8 and gobs of hillbillies with their own softball teams too. So this begs the question of ladies, what in the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, you need keep shitting out kids like some kind of goddamn magic trick?
I understand that for some it’s a religious thing, but seriously if you got six kids, pack it in. God said it’s ok. And for the love of everything holy, stop fucking. While you might think it’s great, the rest of the country hates you. And no we aren’t jealous, you are a goddamn drain on society. And even if your not, you are annoying as fuck. Because we all know you are going to take your entire gaggle of weirdo kids to the store with you while you are shopping and I know it will be while I am at the damn store too.
If you have four or more children, go get a library card or the internet or cable tv or something. Ladies, your vagina is not a clown car.
Plus, come on how good can the sex be if your crotch looks like the tunnels used by the Viet Kong? Who wants to screw a coffee can? Your birth canal must be like a damn slip and slide. I bet you don’t even have to push while in labor, they just slide out like a water slide. Are you going for distance during the delivery by the time you have kid #7?
That’s got to be a shit load of snotty noses and dirty diapers. I am going to go check on getting a vasectomy now.
Don’t get dead
http://news.yahoo.com/s/ap/20090130/ap_on_re_us/octuplets
And we all know about the Dugger’s with 75 children or what ever and then there is that damn Jon and Kate plus 8 and gobs of hillbillies with their own softball teams too. So this begs the question of ladies, what in the fuck is wrong with you? Seriously, you need keep shitting out kids like some kind of goddamn magic trick?
I understand that for some it’s a religious thing, but seriously if you got six kids, pack it in. God said it’s ok. And for the love of everything holy, stop fucking. While you might think it’s great, the rest of the country hates you. And no we aren’t jealous, you are a goddamn drain on society. And even if your not, you are annoying as fuck. Because we all know you are going to take your entire gaggle of weirdo kids to the store with you while you are shopping and I know it will be while I am at the damn store too.
If you have four or more children, go get a library card or the internet or cable tv or something. Ladies, your vagina is not a clown car.
Plus, come on how good can the sex be if your crotch looks like the tunnels used by the Viet Kong? Who wants to screw a coffee can? Your birth canal must be like a damn slip and slide. I bet you don’t even have to push while in labor, they just slide out like a water slide. Are you going for distance during the delivery by the time you have kid #7?
That’s got to be a shit load of snotty noses and dirty diapers. I am going to go check on getting a vasectomy now.
Don’t get dead
Thursday, January 29, 2009
Elementary My Dear Watson
Believe it or not but Sherlock Holmes is a real person and until this morning was alive and kicking. Ok, seriously there was a gentleman who was honestly named Sherlock Holmes and sadly he was found murdered in his home this morning, and he was only 68.
http://www.myfoxdfw.com/dpp/news/Sherlock_Holmes_Found_Dead_in
Now this sucks because apparently this man was very nice and caring. But the name, what where his parents thinking? Did they just want the man to be picked on his entire life? I bet you ole Sherlock could rough it up with the best of them, he would have to. Or be able to tote an ass-whopping with the best of them.
The ironic part of this is that just earlier tonight I was watching the movie “Office Space”, you know the movie that had the ass clown Michael Bolton.
I almost wonder if it is an epidemic. I went to school with a guy named Richard Head, just think of the nick name, and yeah it used to echo the halls of my high school. I also know cousins named Spring and Summer. Sisters named April, May and June and their cousin August. Oh and I know a William Williams Jr, yeah, WWII.
And I have been told that there was a former Texas Governor Jim Hogg who had daughters named Ima and Ura. I swear, Ima Hogg and Ura Hogg. Their social life must have been hell.
So what is it that goes through peoples mind when naming their children? Do they really think these are good names? My last name starts with an S so I have been very cautious of what any of my children’s initials are, so there is no way that I am going to give them some goofy name. I mean come on, could I really have a child named Alex Shawn S (ASS) or Gary Alan S (GAS)? No, the answer is that I could not.
So what is it that makes people give their children these names? Is it that they want people to remember them but don’t think that they will any talent or personality?
But back to Sherlock, his family and friends are in my thoughts and prayers. I am honestly sorry that this man, who seems like a nice guy, was murdered.
Don’t get dead (not what it sounds like, click the link)
http://www.myfoxdfw.com/dpp/news/Sherlock_Holmes_Found_Dead_in
Now this sucks because apparently this man was very nice and caring. But the name, what where his parents thinking? Did they just want the man to be picked on his entire life? I bet you ole Sherlock could rough it up with the best of them, he would have to. Or be able to tote an ass-whopping with the best of them.
The ironic part of this is that just earlier tonight I was watching the movie “Office Space”, you know the movie that had the ass clown Michael Bolton.
I almost wonder if it is an epidemic. I went to school with a guy named Richard Head, just think of the nick name, and yeah it used to echo the halls of my high school. I also know cousins named Spring and Summer. Sisters named April, May and June and their cousin August. Oh and I know a William Williams Jr, yeah, WWII.
And I have been told that there was a former Texas Governor Jim Hogg who had daughters named Ima and Ura. I swear, Ima Hogg and Ura Hogg. Their social life must have been hell.
So what is it that goes through peoples mind when naming their children? Do they really think these are good names? My last name starts with an S so I have been very cautious of what any of my children’s initials are, so there is no way that I am going to give them some goofy name. I mean come on, could I really have a child named Alex Shawn S (ASS) or Gary Alan S (GAS)? No, the answer is that I could not.
So what is it that makes people give their children these names? Is it that they want people to remember them but don’t think that they will any talent or personality?
But back to Sherlock, his family and friends are in my thoughts and prayers. I am honestly sorry that this man, who seems like a nice guy, was murdered.
Don’t get dead (not what it sounds like, click the link)
Friday, January 23, 2009
The Glove
This is one of the reasons that I am leery of the drive-thru. A while back I went to grab a quick bite to eat at a Burger King and we decided to go in and eat in the restaurant. You know the typical routine, wait in line, order your food, wait for your number to be called, come pick up your tray and go to your seat. So I made my way through the line and am waiting off to the side for my number to be called. As I am waiting I notice that the guy working the register is the one who is getting the orders together and he is kind of, well a dipshit.
I just had this feeling that my order was going to be wrong or something so I was watching him as he was ringing up orders and filling them. So as I am watching I see him get a tray ready, open a bag, scratch his nuts, put a burger into the bag and call my number. OH HELL NO. So I tell him that I got to speak to his manager. After a dirty look he calls the manager over and mumbles some crap.
So the manager comes over and ask me what he could do for me and I told him that I was going to need a new burger. Of course he ask why and I tell him that his employee just scratched his balls then put my burger in the bag.
The manager actually had the audacity to tell me, “Sir, he is wearing a plastic glove”. Dude, I see the glove, the glove is what touched his boys just before he put the burger into the bag. Hell, I would almost rather that he took the glove off to pick up my burger at that point. Just because he is reusing the same plastic glove that is probably the only one he has ever worn doesn’t mean that it is some kind of magic sterile glove that can never get contaminated. Damn dude, you eat the burger then.
So there is no telling what happens that we never see while waiting in the drive-thru.
Enjoy your lunch!
Don’t get dead
I just had this feeling that my order was going to be wrong or something so I was watching him as he was ringing up orders and filling them. So as I am watching I see him get a tray ready, open a bag, scratch his nuts, put a burger into the bag and call my number. OH HELL NO. So I tell him that I got to speak to his manager. After a dirty look he calls the manager over and mumbles some crap.
So the manager comes over and ask me what he could do for me and I told him that I was going to need a new burger. Of course he ask why and I tell him that his employee just scratched his balls then put my burger in the bag.
The manager actually had the audacity to tell me, “Sir, he is wearing a plastic glove”. Dude, I see the glove, the glove is what touched his boys just before he put the burger into the bag. Hell, I would almost rather that he took the glove off to pick up my burger at that point. Just because he is reusing the same plastic glove that is probably the only one he has ever worn doesn’t mean that it is some kind of magic sterile glove that can never get contaminated. Damn dude, you eat the burger then.
So there is no telling what happens that we never see while waiting in the drive-thru.
Enjoy your lunch!
Don’t get dead
Monday, January 05, 2009
Snuggie and other stupid crap
We have all seen the commercial for the “Snuggie” right? Where the woman is unhappy about having to pay her electric bill so she keeps the house cold in the winter time. And then the announcer comes out and tells you how the “Snuggie” is a blanket with sleeves. We have all seen this stupid ass commercial right? Is it just me or is the “Snuggie” just a bath robe put on backwards? What a novel “invention” (insert eye roll here)! How bloody stupid do you have to be to go out and buy one of these?
And while we are on it, since it is a backwards bath robe without a belt when you get up aren’t you going to be cold again? Just like wearing a hospital gown.
Let’s look at this with some common sense shall we. First off, they just started offering this stupid thing in December. You know, when it is already cold. Then the small print says to add 2 to 6 weeks for delivery. SIX WEEKS?! Do the math, that’s mid-February if you order right now. You really think that a terry cloth bath robe is going to keep you warm in February?
Additionally, if you do the math the “Snuggie” is $19.95 (plus tax if you live in NY or CA) plus $7.95 for shipping. So that is $27.90 (plus tax if you live in NY or CA). Since it is already January, are you really going to save roughly $30 is your heating bill by turning your heat down a little between now and mid-February? You know, the very coldest part of the year, where you heat is going to run anyway? Oh and if you don’t live alone you got to dish out another $7.95 for one more, what if you live with 4 other people? Seriously, do the math, how much are you going to save?
It’s also kind of funny that you have a 30 day money back guarantee but may take six weeks to get to you, nice touch Snuggie. Oh and don’t forget that crappy book light. I would love to have been in the marketing meeting that produced this. Who was their target audience? The mentally handicapped?
You know what, I got a closet full of “Snuggies” in a lot more colors than the three that they offer on TV. And I will get them to you a hell of a lot quicker than six weeks. So send me $20 bucks and I will send you a robe, uhh, I mean a “Snuggie”. And if you order now, I will give you the opportunity to order our new two piece, fully enclosed “Snuggie” called sweatpants and a sweatshirt or sweater.
Oh and the “Shamwow”, give me a break. Shammys have been around for years and years. If I went to one of my friend’s house and they had a “Shamwow” as a bathmat I would laugh right in their face.
The people who buy this stuff must be the tinfoil hat wearing population of America.
But the worst of all is the late night electric wheelchair commercials from the Scooter Store. Have you seen the one where it looks like they left the door to the old folk’s home open? They show all of these senior citizens roaming town in their “powerchair”. First off, my grandmother had one of these and she couldn’t drive it for shit. You could tell everywhere she had been because the walls where all fucked up where she was running into stuff. Since she couldn’t drive it in her house, do you really think ANYONE would let her drive it to town? Where other cars where? And secondly it looks like a geriatric biker gang. They looked like the Hells Door Step Angels. Come on Scooter Store, do you watch your own commercials? If you really wanted to show what life with a powerchair is like, show the old people riding them with motorcycle helmets on and offer some kind of discount on doorframe repair. Oh and Scooter Store, just as a bit of free advice your R&D department might want to take a look at bumper cars. Seriously, pad the edges.
Oh and the damn watering globe, Jesus H. Tap Dancing Christ, how lazy are you that you can’t pour some water into a pot every now and then. Shit, do like we do, just let them die a quick death. Don’t fill the plant with false hope that it might actually live.
But I do want one of those sliders grill things.
Don’t get dead
And while we are on it, since it is a backwards bath robe without a belt when you get up aren’t you going to be cold again? Just like wearing a hospital gown.
Let’s look at this with some common sense shall we. First off, they just started offering this stupid thing in December. You know, when it is already cold. Then the small print says to add 2 to 6 weeks for delivery. SIX WEEKS?! Do the math, that’s mid-February if you order right now. You really think that a terry cloth bath robe is going to keep you warm in February?
Additionally, if you do the math the “Snuggie” is $19.95 (plus tax if you live in NY or CA) plus $7.95 for shipping. So that is $27.90 (plus tax if you live in NY or CA). Since it is already January, are you really going to save roughly $30 is your heating bill by turning your heat down a little between now and mid-February? You know, the very coldest part of the year, where you heat is going to run anyway? Oh and if you don’t live alone you got to dish out another $7.95 for one more, what if you live with 4 other people? Seriously, do the math, how much are you going to save?
It’s also kind of funny that you have a 30 day money back guarantee but may take six weeks to get to you, nice touch Snuggie. Oh and don’t forget that crappy book light. I would love to have been in the marketing meeting that produced this. Who was their target audience? The mentally handicapped?
You know what, I got a closet full of “Snuggies” in a lot more colors than the three that they offer on TV. And I will get them to you a hell of a lot quicker than six weeks. So send me $20 bucks and I will send you a robe, uhh, I mean a “Snuggie”. And if you order now, I will give you the opportunity to order our new two piece, fully enclosed “Snuggie” called sweatpants and a sweatshirt or sweater.
Oh and the “Shamwow”, give me a break. Shammys have been around for years and years. If I went to one of my friend’s house and they had a “Shamwow” as a bathmat I would laugh right in their face.
The people who buy this stuff must be the tinfoil hat wearing population of America.
But the worst of all is the late night electric wheelchair commercials from the Scooter Store. Have you seen the one where it looks like they left the door to the old folk’s home open? They show all of these senior citizens roaming town in their “powerchair”. First off, my grandmother had one of these and she couldn’t drive it for shit. You could tell everywhere she had been because the walls where all fucked up where she was running into stuff. Since she couldn’t drive it in her house, do you really think ANYONE would let her drive it to town? Where other cars where? And secondly it looks like a geriatric biker gang. They looked like the Hells Door Step Angels. Come on Scooter Store, do you watch your own commercials? If you really wanted to show what life with a powerchair is like, show the old people riding them with motorcycle helmets on and offer some kind of discount on doorframe repair. Oh and Scooter Store, just as a bit of free advice your R&D department might want to take a look at bumper cars. Seriously, pad the edges.
Oh and the damn watering globe, Jesus H. Tap Dancing Christ, how lazy are you that you can’t pour some water into a pot every now and then. Shit, do like we do, just let them die a quick death. Don’t fill the plant with false hope that it might actually live.
But I do want one of those sliders grill things.
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Just don’t talk to me!!
As I have written about before, sometimes things in the bathroom are funny. Mash here and here and here and here and here and finally here.
But damnit dude, don’t talk to me while I am peeing! I don’t want to talk about plans for the upcoming weekend/holiday, I don’t give a damn what your kids did in soccer OR basketball, I don’t want a recap of a recent meeting, I don’t want to hear about some new restaurant that you took your wife too and I damn sure don’t want to discuss the weather with you. I just want to piss, wash my hands and get out of there. I am not hanging out in the shiter because I think it’s cool, I just want to drop off what ever it is I came in there to drop off and leave. If you ask me what my upcoming plans are while I am holding my junk, you are going to get a very honest answer and you’re probably not going to like it. So if I hear, “hey man, got any plans for the big weekend?” while I am holding my dork, the response you get might be, “I think I am going to try to stick this in my wife”. Just letting you know. There is no need for epic conversations while in the head, that is gay.
And if you see me go into a stall you better damn sure not strike up a little chat because at the very most you will get a grunt or some sort of animal noise out of me and that’s about it.
I now know why monkeys throw shit. It’s to get you to leave them the hell alone while they are taking a dump. Damn, can I get no peace?
Don’t talk to me in the can.
And
Don’t get dead
But damnit dude, don’t talk to me while I am peeing! I don’t want to talk about plans for the upcoming weekend/holiday, I don’t give a damn what your kids did in soccer OR basketball, I don’t want a recap of a recent meeting, I don’t want to hear about some new restaurant that you took your wife too and I damn sure don’t want to discuss the weather with you. I just want to piss, wash my hands and get out of there. I am not hanging out in the shiter because I think it’s cool, I just want to drop off what ever it is I came in there to drop off and leave. If you ask me what my upcoming plans are while I am holding my junk, you are going to get a very honest answer and you’re probably not going to like it. So if I hear, “hey man, got any plans for the big weekend?” while I am holding my dork, the response you get might be, “I think I am going to try to stick this in my wife”. Just letting you know. There is no need for epic conversations while in the head, that is gay.
And if you see me go into a stall you better damn sure not strike up a little chat because at the very most you will get a grunt or some sort of animal noise out of me and that’s about it.
I now know why monkeys throw shit. It’s to get you to leave them the hell alone while they are taking a dump. Damn, can I get no peace?
Don’t talk to me in the can.
And
Don’t get dead
Tuesday, December 02, 2008
Have a little fun
Remember a while back I wrote about things that I do when I get bored. Well here is something that falls into that category that you can have a little fun with during this busy holiday season.
Sometimes while I am in a stall in a public restroom and someone gets into or is already in the stall next to me I will ask in a serious voice, "Agent 17, do you have the data?" This has gotten responses from, "Hey man, there aint no Agent 17 here" to laughter to silence to a quick flush and someone hauling ass out of the mens room.
Another thing that is fun to do is to use some sort of knock on the stall wall and in the same serious voice say something that sounds like it is out of a spy movie. My favorite one to use is "The CROW flies at MIDNIGHT" really putting emphasis on crow and midnight. I think one guy pinched off what he was doing and just left when I did this once.
Now if you really want to screw with someone take a folder into the restroom with you and have some documents in it, I just type up various text that looks like it had to be decoded to read on various sheets of paper. Then I will knock on the wall, slide the folder under the stall wall and say something like, "Godspeed!" or "the package has been delivered" (maybe into your phone) or "destroy this after reading" or "the nation thanks you" and then just leave the restroom.
This is a great time of year to do stuff like this because so many people are out shopping. This is also fun to do at airports!
Don't get dead
Sometimes while I am in a stall in a public restroom and someone gets into or is already in the stall next to me I will ask in a serious voice, "Agent 17, do you have the data?" This has gotten responses from, "Hey man, there aint no Agent 17 here" to laughter to silence to a quick flush and someone hauling ass out of the mens room.
Another thing that is fun to do is to use some sort of knock on the stall wall and in the same serious voice say something that sounds like it is out of a spy movie. My favorite one to use is "The CROW flies at MIDNIGHT" really putting emphasis on crow and midnight. I think one guy pinched off what he was doing and just left when I did this once.
Now if you really want to screw with someone take a folder into the restroom with you and have some documents in it, I just type up various text that looks like it had to be decoded to read on various sheets of paper. Then I will knock on the wall, slide the folder under the stall wall and say something like, "Godspeed!" or "the package has been delivered" (maybe into your phone) or "destroy this after reading" or "the nation thanks you" and then just leave the restroom.
This is a great time of year to do stuff like this because so many people are out shopping. This is also fun to do at airports!
Don't get dead
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Trippin
I am by no means a saint. I know this may come as a shock to some of you, but sadly it is true. The reason that I am no saint is because I had one hell of a good time growing up. And by good time I mean we did a lot of bad shit. If this is news to you, you must be new to my blog. Trust me, go read my older post you will love them. And that’s one thing about my blog, the old post are still gold! But this post isn’t about my older post it is about one particular night while in high school. Let’s all pile into the way-back machine shall we!
One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.
For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.
Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.
As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.
Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.
During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.
As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.
This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.
Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!
Don’t get dead
One cool Saturday night in the winter of my senior year of high school I was on my way to a bonfire party. When I got to this party it was no surprise to see about 40 of my friends who I used to run with already at the party. Since I was a wee lad of only 17 years on this earth it should come to no ones surprise that the majority of us were consuming beverages that may contain a percentage of alcohol. Who am I kidding we would drink Scope if we couldn’t get someone to buy us booze. So anyway we were on our way to Shitfacedville, population all of us. Like I said, it was a Saturday night. Now this group that I used to run with liked to get a little wild and sometimes we might get a little loud and we might raise just a little hell every now and then. Shock, I know.
For what ever reason someone slipped a hit of acid or something into one of my buddies beers that night. Of course at the time we didn’t know this. Now this particular friend was a small guy, kind of quiet and didn’t really look for trouble but it always seemed to find him. Another little tid bit about this guy is that he is HORRIFIED by grave yards, funeral homes and hospitals. Anything to do to with death and dying freaks him out royally. Not to worry, I got a story about that too, but that is for later. So anyway this guy, whose mom was a nurse ironically, would just geek out being around funeral homes, grave yards and hospitals. I mean this guy could spot an ambulance a mile way. I have no idea where this comes from but it has always freaked him out ever since we were little.
Back to this particular night, we are at this party and he is acting a bit odd but hell I just thought his sack dropped and he finally hit puberty. But as the course of the night went on he keeps finding me and telling me that he feels weird and that we need to go. So I tell him to haul ass, he didn’t need my permission to take off, which was always followed by calling him a light weight or something like that. Yeah, I am a dick. So after a couple of hours of this he finds me again and tells me that we need to go. Of course I can’t be nice and concerned about my friend so I ask him, “what’s this “we” you speak of white man?” and tell him that I was fine just where I was. Around this time he pulls me away from who ever I was talking to and hands me his keys and says, “Take me to the hospital, I am freaking out”. Now he has my attention for two reasons. One, as I mentioned the whole freaking out about hospitals thing and two, he NEVER lets anyone drive his car.
As we are walking towards his car this girl that he has been sort of seeing yells for us to wait up and ask where we are going. My friend, not wanting to make himself look like a major pussy, says that we were just going to go for a ride and that he wanted to show me something that he did to his car. Nice job McFly, thinking fast on your feet. *BOOM* did you hear that? Yeah, that was the sound of his plan backfiring. She wants to go with us. You have heard of non-verbal communication before right? Well his face screamed “oh fuck” if there ever was an “oh fuck” face. I tried to interject and tell her that we would be right back but she still wanted to go. Sorry fuckface, I tried. So he quietly ask for his keys back and sort of shuffles to his car. Now I am torn, while I am a bit concerned about my fried and his safety/health, the thought of watching him suffer through trying to not geek out in front of some chick he was trying to nail was going to be to much to pass up. “Shotgun” I called but was rejected because of that damn Y chromosome. Fine with me, the cooler is in the back anyway. So we are on our little trip down a very dark country road when all of the sudden in one swooping move lasting about a split second, my buddy throws the car into neutral, jerks up the parking brake, opens the door and bails out like a fucking paratrooper while the car is still moving. HOLY SHIT! What the fuck was that all about? Where the hell did he go?! All of that went though my mind in about one millisecond. Oh the chick, she was just screaming her ass off. So there I am steering this car from the back seat wedged between the front seats with this bitch piercing my ear drums with one long continues note.
Finally after what seemed like 20 miles the car stops and I figure out how to let myself out of this two door car from the backseat, oh and the girl, still screaming. About the time that I finally get out of the car, my buddy comes walking up like it was nothing. So I ask the fall guy, “dude, what the fuck was that all about” and he calmly replies, “oh nothing, I thought that I felt a bug on my arm”. You go airborne ranger out of a car on me while doing 40 miles an hour when I am in the back seat and it’s “nothing”. If ole Janet Leigh back there hadn’t given me a migraine I would kick the crap out of you here and now. Get you monkey ass back in that car now. No sooner had he got back in the car and started turn the key had he flinched and jumped out again. Come to fine out, it was the air conditioning blowing the hair on his arm that he was feeling. Ok numbnuts, time for a new driver. Of course instead of his buddy who he had known for almost his entire life, he ask this squish to drive. Fine, the cooler is still back here even if the beer is a bit shaken up after that little Robbie Knievel stunt back there, plus it’s your interior so what do I care if I spill a little beer.
During the course of this little road trip he cleverly gives her directions back towards town. What he also did was start to relax a little bit which in turn caused him to fuck up his cool. You see, since he started to relax, he forgot that the girl didn’t know he was freaking out.
As we are getting closer to the hospital I notice that every so often my friend would spastically change the radio station. We would be listening to one station and then as one song would end he would franticly start hitting the seek button, finally settling on a station. Then he leans back, exhales a big breath and I see him start to tap his foot. After this series of events happened a couple of times I asked him, “Dude!” (giving the WTF look) and he looks back at me with this crazy face. “What’s with you freaking out on the radio” and he says, “I have to keep finding a station that has a song playing”. To which I asked, “Why?” and he tells me that he has to tap his foot to the beat of the music to keep his heart beating and that every time that the DJ would talk or if they played a commercial he would loose the rhythm and he might die.
This would be the exact moment when the girl looks over at him, much like Stiffler from the “American Pie” movies, and says, “What the fuck are you talking about?”
I almost flooded his car with urine as I was laughing so hard.
Now he has to explain the whole thing to her and somehow save face with her. Not only did he pull this off, he managed to talk her into circling the hospital for at least a half hour. I finally told them that I had had enough of this bullshit and that they needed to take me back to my car or find someone to buy us more beer. Fortunately, the girl felt the same way, well about the having enough of this bullshit part and decides to drive back to the party, have her girlfriend follow her to his house so that she could drop him off and then they would go home too. Good times!
Don’t get dead
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Dear Sweezey - Crazy Weather
Dear Sweezey,
You know you live in Texas when its warm one day and cold the next. Brrr, it was a chilly this morning. Had to turn on the oven to warm up the place. Thinking of lighting the pilot on the furnace. Is it too early? Or should I tough it out? The extended forecast shows a few cooler nights.
Thanks,
Winter Wonderer
Dear Winter Wonderer,
Have you read my Dear Sweezey post before? You really came to me with a weather question? Ok, here is what I think you should do, you should not light the pilot on the furnace until June or July. Oh and another thing that you should do is to open all of the windows in your house, especially at night. And then you should go get a cold bath late at night and then don’t dry off and go right to bed. But don’t dry off and sleep on top of the covers.
Look jackass, its NOVEMBER, if someone has to tell you to turn on the heat when it is cold out, you deserve anything you get. How stupid are you? Do people have to tell you to wipe after you have crapped? Do you need some strangers’ advice on eating when you are hungry? Why do you need someone to tell you to light the pilot on your heater when it is cold? I mean, the economy is not the best right now but how much are we talking about spending? Probably less than a dollar a month.
- Sweezey
Don't get dead
You know you live in Texas when its warm one day and cold the next. Brrr, it was a chilly this morning. Had to turn on the oven to warm up the place. Thinking of lighting the pilot on the furnace. Is it too early? Or should I tough it out? The extended forecast shows a few cooler nights.
Thanks,
Winter Wonderer
Dear Winter Wonderer,
Have you read my Dear Sweezey post before? You really came to me with a weather question? Ok, here is what I think you should do, you should not light the pilot on the furnace until June or July. Oh and another thing that you should do is to open all of the windows in your house, especially at night. And then you should go get a cold bath late at night and then don’t dry off and go right to bed. But don’t dry off and sleep on top of the covers.
Look jackass, its NOVEMBER, if someone has to tell you to turn on the heat when it is cold out, you deserve anything you get. How stupid are you? Do people have to tell you to wipe after you have crapped? Do you need some strangers’ advice on eating when you are hungry? Why do you need someone to tell you to light the pilot on your heater when it is cold? I mean, the economy is not the best right now but how much are we talking about spending? Probably less than a dollar a month.
- Sweezey
Don't get dead
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