The next morning...





Kelly I would never live that fateful day down. 
Everyone else lived happily ever after. 












........

"This does not go on Facebook. I'm dead serious."

I was helping my mom post some pictures to her Facebook account earlier,
when I noticed my sister was online. 

I decided to have a little fun.









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.....

Valentine (f)Arts and Crafts

Oops, I forgot about Valentines Day. Well, online, anyway. In real life, however, I made several lovely cards for my coworkers, which I'd like to share with you. Vulgarity and puns run rampant in our day to day; I thought it only appropriate to use both in my craftsmanship.

Well, it's not not true. 


This one was for my boss. Hi, Kacey!


Mmmm... sushi...


My personal fave.


This was for the older gent notorious for horrible puns and dad  jokes.
He enjoyed it. 


SeƱor Penis - Born in high school, thriving well into adulthood.

No comment. 


This made more sense than "I'd Avada your Kedavra."

That's all. ♥



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....

Kebert Xela Sah Sinep Sregnif


This is truth. This is fact. Can't handle it? Gtfo my blog.

(No, please stay. I'm lonely.)

No, but seriously.... were you ready for this?

......I can't hear you.



OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOH.......








You brought this on yourself, Trebek. 









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.......

The Worst $25 I've Spent In 2014 (So Far)

See what I did there? It's only the 9th of January, but I'm making jokes like "worst blah blah in 2014 ever lolol." It's such a fresh, funny joke. Have a chuckle with me, won't you?

If you're reading this blog, it means that my brain has been successfully transplanted into my new host body, and that the old one, ravaged by frostbite and severe hypothermia, has (hopefully) been properly discarded.

Source: Ironic Sans

As you may recall, I live in Indiana, which was recently fucked by the long, cold dick of winter. In preparation for what I assume were record-breaking low temperatures in the Hoosier State (don't correct me if I'm wrong, you nerd,) I set out like any typical American preparing for a natural disaster: I stocked up enough food to survive for a month, then consumed as much of it as possible during the 3-4 day blizzard conditions in order to build my bulk and prepare for possible hibernation. I mowed down no less than 3 women and children with my cart in the dairy section to get a small container of sour cream. I took it upon myself to direct traffic and idiots in the parking lot, because that's what good citizens do.

Pictured: A tangent. 

But this year, I decided to take it a step further. I absolutely loathe scraping my car windows in winter. You think that's ice? That's not ice. That's Jack Butt-Fucking Frost getting off on our misery, and jizzing all over our vehicles. He gets hard again as we struggle in vain to to scrape the outer ice so we can see, only to have our breath create inner ice inside the car. When we inevitably fly into a ditch or wrap ourselves around a telephone pole, it's like filthy bukake porn for him. And we're the bitches.

Does anyone else feel like the amount of porn I have to watch for this blog is getting out of hand?
Oh god.... the puns... =(


But I digress.

I hate scraping windows like I hate bills, dead puppies, and being told repeatedly that I need to watch (whatever) television series. So I decided to thwart Jack Frost and make him my bitch this winter. I went out and bought myself a lovely, grey, impermeable car cover, so that when the snow hit, I could simply whisk the cover off my away from my Camry, give it a shake-a-roosky, and store it in the handy carrying case it came in. Considering how effortlessly I was able to cover my car, I was very hopeful that these plans were completely impermeable, just like my car cover.



Well, as usual in Indiana, the trouble started with the forecasters shitting all over our expectations. Instead of a foot of snow, we got what I believe to be 3+ inches of slush (followed by maybe five inches or less of snow,) which of course turned entirely into pure ice in the -40°f windchill conditions. No, unfortunately, that's not a goddamned typo. It actually felt like -40°f during this snow shit storm.

Side note: I had always kind of wanted to experience temperatures of that degree, because I assumed my nose-cicles would turn me into a lovable walrus, and I could build igloos and shit. It turns out, however, that those temperatures are so cold that you can't even piss yourself in misery, because your wiener is frozen shut with ice. I don't have a wiener, but I assume that's how it went down for all your poor sons of bitches who had to be out and about in that nonsense.

The change in weather didn't really phase me, because I'm a cocky piece of shit. I figured hey, if the roads are bad, I'll stay home, and when the roads are cleared, why, with all this preparation, it's just a matter of a simple swoosh, and my car will be free from its ice prison. I actually smirked a little as I saw all the other cars getting covered, while my impermeable fortress of magic material kept the Camry nice and dry.

There were a few little things the manufacturers neglected to put on the box:



1) Their definition of "impermeable" actually means "quite permeable, you naive fool."

2) The quite permeable material will allow water to seep through to the car, then freeze to adhere itself, like crazy winter super glue from super-hell, which is like normal hell, except the total opposite and made of ice. I bet there are lots of these car covers in super-hell. Maybe the super-devil even hands them out as welcome gifts, I don't fucking know.

3) When you do finally manage to free your car from this super awesome amazing so-ahead-of-the-game purchase you've made, take the "Free, convenient storage bag!" and light it on fire, and then light yourself on fire, because I assure you that's more of a fulfilling endeavor than trying to store this thing properly. Houdini would have been like, "aw shit, son" and just punched himself in the stomach before attempting to store this cover. It was like trying to shove squares into circles, or pairing chocolate pudding with corn and tonic water to make soup. It simply didn't work. For one disgusting, unfortunate, brief moment in my life, I knew what it felt like to be Ron Jeremy.

Yeah, definitely out of hand.
....shut up.

Would it have been easier for me to just bend over and take it from Jack Frost? It's hard to say. All I know is that I left the car cover bunched up on the car over night in defeat, and would not have been devastated to find it stolen the next morning. It might have even been worth paying an extra $25 to pay someone to come steal it, just so I didn't have to struggle with my failed plan the next day.

I did eventually get the car cover off of my vehicle. It is now "conveniently stored" in my trunk, probably melting all over whatever Island of Misfit Auto-parts dwells within. This is a fair trade in lieu of lighting myself on fire. I guess.

Seriously, fuck that storage bag, even if the color is lovely. Maybe I can use it as a coin purse or to store my cold, dead dreams of an easy winter, but of the very few things on this earth which I know in my heart to be true, that bag will never, ever, house my car cover properly.

They really ought to just sky-drop these car covers into bad neighborhoods to stomp out rampant prostitution. $25 for a thorough butt-fucking seems like a pretty good deal to me.

Detroit Wut







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...

In Which I Summarize Movies You Can't Believe I Haven't Seen

"Whaaaaa?? How have you NOT seen The Shawshank Redemption?! It's the greatest movie of all time, and it's so right up your alley!!"

We've all been on the receiving end of that one. Substitute Shawshank for whatever your little hearts desire, but the simple fact remains: Somewhere, someone can't believe you haven't seen something. (Side note: You really should see Shawshank.)

I thought I'd take a few of the ones I get a lot, and guess how the movies go, since honestly, I probably won't watch any of them. I'm cinematically lazy like that. I'll be combining the few facts I do know about these movies, and using Google image search and context clues to fill in the gaps.


#1:


Most of the movie takes place in the title guy's office. At least that's what I assume, since any time I've seen a snippet on TV, people are always sitting and talking to him there. I'm also going to go ahead and assume that he is The Godfather, but that "godfather" doesn't mean what it traditionally means in this context. It probably means close to the opposite of its textbook definition.

He is a very powerful mobster, but will only do favors for people when one of his relatives gets married. This is because it provides cover for his shady dealings, and also because he is an introvert and hates big parties and crowds.



Someone needs a super DUPER favor when his daughter gets married, so he makes an offer (the favor-asker) can't refuse. (Yay, pop culture!) I'm pretty sure it's this guy. I'm going to call him "Doug," because "this guy" and "that guy" will get confusing.


Doug is fighting with an old man who keeps lots of expensive horses as pets. We're just going to call him Skeeter, because consistency is important with story telling.


Skeeter owes Doug a great deal of money, and has missed his deadline. Everyone who knows Skeeter also knows that Patty Mayonnaise is his prized and most favorite horse. So when Doug asks The Godfather to help him show Skeeter that he is no longer fucking around, The Godfather knows exactly how to deliver that message.


With his beloved Patty Mayonnaise decapitated, and nothing left to live for, Skeeter continues to refuse paying Doug, knowing that The Godfather will murder him, which he does. The ending is bitter-sweet though, because Skeeter and Patty get to be together again in Horse/Mobster heaven.


#2:


I feel like this one is kind of like the Matrix, except with less computers and more dreams. Are we dreaming? Is this real life? Why is the world tilting at a 45 degree angle? Haha, isn't this a hoot?!


Inception takes place in a world where a handful of people have the ability to dream the world into a state that better suits them. Leo and Juno and their friends find a way to infiltrate this dreaming world, and are trying to find ways to stop the evil-doer from bending reality. The evil-doer is really good at controlling the dream world, though, and that's why this shit is always happening:



and this shit:


and also this shit:


Spoiler alert: At least half of the main characters in this movie die, because come on. Look at that shit. Ain't nobody going to survive buildings flipping over and fizzy lifting drinks. Leo and Juno definitely survive and definitely get their bone on. But not before finding some stupid lever or button that forces the bad guy to lose his ability to control the world with his mind.

#3:


Admittedly, I wasn't even sure that I hadn't seen this movie until a couple weeks ago, when I discovered that Labyrinth and Pan's Labyrinth were actually two separate movies. In my defense, the latter definitely looks like something in which David Bowie would participate as well. It looks creepy and scary, the two key things I associate with him.


*shudders*

Anyway, in this Spanish Alice in Wonderland, the little girl (who we'll call Alice) climbs underneath the scariest fucking tree she can find, and lands herself in a bizarre underworld of mazes and puzzles she must solve in order to return home.

Of course, there are those who would rather keep her prisoner. The main villain - a goat man named Pan, sends his right-hand man to ensure she can't find her way out of the many puzzles and tasks he sets before her.


If this movie has a douchebag who is always making horrible puns, you know it's this asshole. "Oh, eye'd love to give you a hand with that, Alice, but as you can see, it might be a bit of a palmblem. Hor hor hor hor!"

Despite being fully-equipped for villainy, what with his wrinkly naked-mole rat skin, Voldemort non-nose, and desperate need for a manicure, this guy is quite the bumbling idiot, which allows Alice to navigate Pan's Labyrinth quite easily. Ultimately he takes maters into his own hands, and they have a big spooky show-down. At this point in the movie, Alice realizes how ludicrous and impossible everything happening is, and realizes she's dreaming. She thusly imagines a bed, and one materializes right there in the labyrinth (because, you know, dreamin' magics,) and she tucks herself in. Because just as sleep leads to dreams in the waking world, sleep leads to waking in the dreaming world.



#4:


Jesus, it took me like five minutes to even find this picture on Google, because I can barely spell the title.


I really don't understand why this movie is cute. Basically, it's about a chef who finds a rat in his restaurant, and instead of, you know, making it leave, he decides to let him help out in the kitchen, which leads me to believe he's probably the shittiest chef on the planet. How else could unexpected vermin in the kitchen possibly turn out to be a good thing?

He lets the rat take a huge shit in the gumbo, and starts winning awards for it. It's like Sweeney Todd, except instead of bodies, there's rat shit. What's more heart-warming and appetizing than that?

Anything. The answer you are looking for is anything. Take away the Pixar animation, and see how adorable this becomes.


I rest my case.


#5:


I'm confused about the time period in which this movie takes place. On the one hand, I feel like there's a chubby kid watching television. On the other, I know there are pirates involved. (There are, right? Christ, I hope so, or I'm really not going to come close with this synopsis. You know. Unlike the other ones.)

A group of ragtag misfits go looking for a pirate treasure, and have all sorts of wacky encounters along the way. I seriously doubt they find the treasure. I bed someone finds a big ol' treasure chest, opens it, and discovers only a scrap of paper with the word "friendship" written on. It's one of those stories where at the end, the adventure itself was the real treasure. Which is all fine and good, but, you know...



I think this guy's name is Sloth, and that he eats nothing but Baby Ruth candy bars, but I could be wrong. He lives in the cave where the misfits go to search for the treasure. I don't think he's a villain, but the kids spend half the movie running from him anyway, because look at that shit. What is going on up there? It's some sort of weird combination of Elephantiasis, male pattern baldness, and just a touch of bad dental hygiene.

I wish I could tell you that the fat kid who does the Truffle Shuffle adopts this little critter so that he can live out the rest of his days comfortably, but in all honesty, the kids probably stone him to death out of rage after they discover they're not going home with a fat sack of doubloons.




There are tons of other movies that I'm apparently supposed to have seen. Maybe I'll touch on the others some other time. In the meantime, I hope you found this as noneducational as possible, because, per tradition, I am talking directly out of my anus.






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.....

Cleaning out my closet

Yeah, that's right. Eminem ain't got shit on me.

Just kidding, Mr. Nem. Please don't shoot me. 

In my last update, I mentioned that I had a few posts which I never got around to completing. I thought it might be cathartic for me, and amusing for you, for me to touch upon the two I liked the best, but realistically will probably never finish. Maybe if I feel like I have a clean slate in regards to creative failures, new creativity can start breeding like rabbits inside my noggin. (Note to self: Advance science; replace brain with bunnies.)

So! Let's get these sad, neglected posts out in the open, shall we? It'll be just like confession all over again, except a bit more random, if that's even possible.

For the first of the two posts, I'd like to preface by saying I would never actually do meth. But I did draw a picture of me contemplating it. I had some brain issues earlier this year. Yes, legitimate, medical brain issues, not "you drew a picture of Hitler banging my mom, what is wrong with you" brain issues. It turned out to be hemiplegic migraines, which suck every dick in the land. But considering the scary bullshit we ruled out, I'll bend over and take it any day.

Anyway, while we were trying to figure out why the fuck I was limping around like a stroke patient and unable to form three-word sentences, I was trying other things, such as vitamins, diet change, a slew of expensive tests, and worst of all, eliminating caffeine, in an attempt to understand and control what was happening.

As you may or may not know, I don't actually have blood coursing through my veins, but rather a frothy mixture of Mountain Dew and coffee. This is beneficial because I don't sleep well and because the carbonation tickles my heart valves. So when I was without caffeine for those horrible few weeks, I was desperately jonesing for something to keep my unhappy ass awake. I started making a list of comparable substitutes in a failed post called "Being Proactive," which included items such as duct-taping a bullhorn to my forehead (for when I slumped over at my desk) and lighting myself on fire (self explanatory,) but the only item on the list I ever got around to illustrating was Meth.


The hemiplegic migraines are under control now, and I did not have to resort to ingesting happy little meth crystals to make it happen. I'd call that a success.

The second post which deserved its day in the sun was about an awesomely terrible idea I once had involving Coca Cola, Bill Cosby, and fourteen pounds of pudding. Rather than try to explain the post, I'm just going to give you what I had accomplished so far. Heads up: I left it at a real cliff-hanger, as far as the pictures go.


This may come as a shock to all long-time readers, but occasionally, I've been known to make very stupid decisions. This is one such story.

I know not everyone who reads will know what Sam's Club is, and frankly, I'm not sure how to describe it in a way that will do it justice. Sam's is an exclusive treasure trove of goods, accessible for members only. It's grocery store on steroids. It's a beautiful, in-bulk wonderland of superfluous spending. They sell everything you could ever want, in quantities no normal human being should even imagine, let alone need. In a way, it's everything America stands for.




A few years ago, my friends Brian and Paul, who were living together (platonically, as far as I know) decided to obtain a membership to Sam's Club, in an attempt to buy in bulk once in a great while, and then go months without grocery shopping. This served not only their benefit, but my own, as members of Sam's Club were allowed to bring one non-member with them. I was lucky enough, on several occasions, to be their +1. I still remember being wrapped in a warm, fluorescent blanket of wonder as I stepped through those automatic doors and feasted my eyes around the dozens of rows, not knowing where to start.

One day, while tagging along in Sam's with my friend Brian, something caught my eye. I mean, everything in this store is huge, don't get me wrong. But this.... this was a thing of pure beauty. I felt like I was looking, for a brief, fleeting moment, into the very eyes of god.




....The god of pudding.

Bippin' and the boppin' and the boooooooooooo....


And that's where the post stopped. "What happened? WHAT HAPPENED? Did you buy the fucking pudding? Did you wrestle in it? Tell me!" scream the masses of readers at this point. Well, I'll tell you.

Being the genius I was, I reasoned that because "my stomach was about the size of this can," (Aka, my torso was, and I really had no idea what the fuck I was talking about,) that I could easily devour this monstrosity in one sitting. I begged Brian for a while, and he eventually obliged. "Okay, so we'll get a can," he conceded.
"We'll get a can each," I corrected.
"Each??"
"Yeah, each! Look!" *holds 7 lbs of pudding to my stomach "It should totally fit in there."

I don't know how or why I convinced him that this was the best course of action, but as a public service announcement: Friends don't let friends attempt to eat seven fucking pounds of pudding. I don't care how much you think you love it, it simply cannot be done. And by god, we certainly gave it the old college try.

We got to the check out with 14 pounds of pudding and a 24pack of glass bottles of Coke (Because, you know, fizzy carbonation + excessive dairy product = a good idea, always.) The check out lady just kind of looked at us for a minute, and eventually asked "...Big night ahead?" No, bitch, we're buying this because we're playing it safe.

We sat down with our Coca Cola, cans of pudding, and Bill Cosby stand-up. We got about twenty minutes in before we realized we had made a horrible, horrible mistake. We had foregone a party that evening just to devour pudding, and were now wishing we hadn't. The compromise was that we would abandon our plans and go to the party, but, we had to take the pudding with us and finish it there.

There is one known photograph of this night in existence, taken at said party.

Yeah, I know, the outfit was hideous. I was going through a phase. Leave me alone.

What actually happened instead of finishing the pudding at the party was that we tried to eat as much as possible over the next week, but with every passing day, every spoonful of increasingly-hateful chocolate death that passed our lips, the task grew more and more impossible. Eventually it got all watery and gross, and we probably tossed out at least 10-12 pounds of it.

I have not been to Sam's Club since.

So there you have it - my two biggest regrets, as far as failed posts. I have a few other pictures that didn't even make it into failed-post form, and have no idea what I might have wanted to use them for.

There's this one:

This was likely for some religious debate.

And then there's this one I drew of Nicki Minaj at some point:



And then there's this one, which I obviously can't take credit for, but that is hysterical to me, so I'm throwing it in here anyway:


I love tacos.

Alright. *deep breath.* I feel absolved of my sins, and like my closet is sufficiently cleaned out, for now. Will this actually help my creative process and result in more regular posts? *shrugs.* One way to find out, bitches. Stay tuned!





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