Dude

 Spoof on Bud Light Dude commercials.

 

Couple F Bombs

Fuck you fat lady who is constantly announcing the new diet you’re on, but never lose a single fucking pound. Funny thing is that throughout the day I truly see you only eat oatmeal, salads, diet soda, grilled chicken, etc. Do you go home and double fist chalupas followed up by a full bag of marshmallows? Fuck.

Fuck you dipshit bouncer who stands in front of the door at a cool bar with a permanent frown. You are a midget stuck in a 6′4” frame. When was the last time you got laid without force?

Fuck you tow truck driving shades. I parked my car in the red for 3 minutes and you are going to charge me $90 because you already lifted my car two inches off the ground? You probably go home to your trailer every night and throw countless beats to the footage you sneakily recorded of star trek geeks doing each other in full furry bunny costumes.

Fuck you P Diddy. That forced black version of N’ Sync you created blows. (Regarding the girl version, Danity Kain – I would make Aubrey my wife if it was legal to permanently sew her mouth shut)

Fuck you white vans. When I buy you, you look so damn cool, I wear you out once and you find it funny to cover yourself in pizza sauce, Jaeger, and some odd red shit. (Fuck my inability to not spill)

Fuck you guy who ruins my heavenly 15 minutes on the can every morning about 9:12am with your chronic dio attacks, extreme heavy breathing, and occasional cell phone pick ups. Mix in a solid meal for god’s sakes, curried goo meat 4 times a day will do that to anyone. Swear I might lob some dirty TP over the stall next time you interrupt me and I hope it lands in your eye.

Fuck you dress shirt neck sizes. I always buy you with extra neck room, and somehow whenever I go to wear you with a tie for the first time, trying to button the top button takes the strength of Arnold in his prime. Then I have to go through my day with a blue face from lack of oxygen, and one deep breath may launch my button, like a speeding bullet, at that guy in the elevator who I swear is a walking SBD.

Fuck you hot chick who suggests that we don’t use a J Cap when it comes down to crunch time. You may not be aware of this, but I have had 15 drinks tonight at the bar and lord knows I don’t have the power to disagree with you at this point. Do I have “please give me wild raw dog agents to dwell upon for the next week, where every routine itch is followed up with a sprint to the bathroom to make sure you didn’t leave me a present” tattooed on my forehead? Get a grip and make some right decisions.

 

Rude Awakening

I drank, therefore I am.  Hungover.  Every Saturday morning.  Ever since I drank my first beer on Halloween of my sophomore year in high school.  It was a Corona and it was warm.  And it is was heaven in a bottle.  That’s not the point.  Anyway, I have a cat. My cat throws up, all the fucking time.  My favorite time for her to throw up is when I’m late for work, and she does it as I’m walking out the door, as if the fact that I’m on my way to work hasn’t fucked up my morning enough.  (Do you ever wake up and for 10 seconds you think it’s Saturday, when it’s really Tuesday?  I fucking hate that.)  

Good news, today really is Saturday. This morning my cat decided to throw up in front of the bathroom sink.  I first noticed it at 6AM when I did the still drunk wake up piss tylenol vitamin water dance.  As I’m taking a piss, I notice the puke on the floor and I say to myself “fuck, I’m glad I didn’t step in that shit.”  I use profanity when I talk to myself.  “Now that I know it’s there, I won’t step in it when I actually get up this morning.” 

A couple hours later when I actually woke up, I walk out of my bedroom and I fucking stepped in that shit.  Cold, half digested cat food laced with feline stomach acid and hair was now between my toes.  It was kind of funny, but it was definitely ass.  I cleaned it off real quick and that was that.  I notice my cat is drinking some water, and I give her breakfast after that.  Breakfast is half a can of wet food, so is dinner.  My cat’s food is on top of the fridge.  Don’t ask me why, that’s just where the fuck I put it, ahkay bud? 

So my cat eats the wet food and while standing on my kitchen counter, decides that it’s a great time to throw up again.  She threw up off the counter on to the kitchen floor.  It splattered all over the fucking place like when you’re walking home from a late night and you throw up in the doorstep of the nail salon on Olympic Blvd and it splatters on the walls, your jeans, and your shoes.  Don’t act like you’ve never done that.  It even made the same noise as it hit the floor.  Fuck.  I’m hungover, I stepped in cat barf, and now I also have it splattered all over the kitchen floor.  And I guess because she drank a bunch of water right before, the puke was all watery and runny and shit.  Is that gross? 

I figured it was a great photo op, so I snapped a pic.  Enjoy.  If your morning sucked, I hope this might make it not so bad after all. 

Actually, I don’t give a fuck about how your morning went. 

I Hate Bums

Holy shit this is long. 

Three weeks ago I was at Target, (yeah, I shop at Target, fuck you, care) and I’m loading my shit in my car.  I think I bought travel items for an upcoming cruise.  You know, those little things of toothpaste and face wash that you end up never using anyway b/c you’re too gone?  I have to buy those things now to get through security at the airport… and that’s a whole different story.  Anyway, I’m loading my shit in my car and I notice the scrubby fuck walking around the parking lot.  Thing is, dude’s rocking a grey suit and red power tie over a white shirt.  Chameleon bum, trying to blend in to WC I guess, who knows?  Maybe he read it on a fucking bum blog, or they discussed it at the last bum forum under the freeway.  Why do we even have bums in Walnut Creek, FUCK!  Anyway, I can’t see very well from far away, so at first I thought it was an emo-dude that rocks fucked up hair but a suit at the same time, you know?  That’s a whole different story too.  You’re going to realize that this is starting to get climatic, but the end of the story will be a major let down.  I just want it to be known that I hate bums.  So this bum comes up to me and says: 

• “do you have $4 so I can catch the train?” (bum)
• “WHAT?” (me)
• “um, do you think I could have $4? I have to catch the train.”
• “NO, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.  I DON’T HAVE ANY MONEY FOR YOU.”  (me, not kidding.) 

So he doesn’t even trip, because apparently I’m not the only one who told him to fuck off today (imagine that, in Walnut Creek?)  He just walks off…  Then he has the audacity to go up to a lady that is loading her two babies in her minivan and says the same shit.  Lady must’ve been trippin, probably thinks that Ted Kaszincskfjksadhsjky is about to rob her ass at Target.  So now I’m watching this suited up bum, because I’m in cop/hero mode… not sure why, what the fuck would I actually do about it?  I’m not going to punch a bum in the face, because then I get bum juice on my hand and I’d have to have that shit amputated. 

Anyway, bum story short I watch this fucker walk around the entire parking lot asking for $4 to ride the fucking train.  Bums are on to big shit now, they don’t even fuck with asking for change.  If dude had asked me for a quarter or a dime, I still would’ve told him to fuck off because I hate bums, but he would’ve had a better chance from someone else.  Sure, it may have taken him an hour to build up to $4 worth of change, but that’s called fucking WORK.  A fucking JOB. Bum story shorter, I get in my car and I pull up to this bum in a freshly washed Mercedes.  I roll down the window and I’m like: 

• “Hey, bro.  Come here.”  (probably thinks he is about to score, like I started to feel bad for him plus I’m rolling in a Benz)
• “Yeah?”
• “Hey, you’re scaring people so why don’t you get the fuck out of here?”
• “Scaring people?  I’m not scaring people.”
• “Yeah you are, cause you’re a creepy mother fucker in suit.  GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE AND GET A JOB” 

So he walks off, and I told Target security, because I’m a bad mother fucker.  To be honest, I drove off kind of fast, because I was scared the bum might try to throw down.  What does a bum have to lose?  Nothing.  That’s why I hate them.  I have no sympathy for bums.  Take a shower, cut your fucking hair, and go flip burgers or pump gas or work in the fucking stock market like Will Smith did in that movie, who cares.  Point is, I’m a firm believer that bums choose to be bums.  Blame it on drugs, alcohol, abusive parents, I still don’t give a fuck.  I have my fair share of issues and fucked up problems, but I’m not a bum.  If you really want to do something in life, the world is a giant pussy waiting to be fucked.  So put your mind to it, create a plan, and get to stepping.  And if you’re a bum with an internet connection, get a fucking job and know that I hate you more than I hate not having a haircut in 4 days.  If you’ve read this far, then thanks for reading.  Go tell a bum to fuck off when you see one.  Just like I told a bum that was trying to hitchhike on Treat Blvd last week to FUCK OFF.  I hope you hate bums as much as I do.  

You’re Aize.

GFY.