Quick and to the point (do i say this every time?):
If I have a daugher, I hope:
- That she is just like her mother. I used to have many constraints and standards for that special woman in my life, but I realized those are all null and void. All I hope for in a female mate is that I can honestly say that when we have a daughter I can wish that she turns out just like her mother. There's no hidden asshole motive or sarcastic agenda behind this, it's just true. And sweet. Awww.
If I have a son, I hope:
- He is never that guy who wears a sport coat to a bar. I realize this doesn't immediately make you an asshole. Though I've never seen it in action (and I would chastise them to the world's end), I'm sure some of my best friends do in fact practice this activity. But that doesn't make it okay. Just like calling someone "gay" or a "fag", I don't have a problem with it for any surface reason (I can't pretend to be that PC), I just despise it for its lack of originality and overall douchiness. Just as nobody is impressed that you totally called out that kid on the Vespa as a blatant homosexual, nobody is impressed that you managed to pair a graphic tee with a coat from JC Penney. Congrats, you suck at life. I would feel prouder of my son if he was the central force behind our generation's holocaust. But only if it involved Australians. I'm still not sold on them.
One love ya'll,
- K
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Saturday, April 12, 2008
...Appease my adoring public
So ladies,
hopefully this will be short and to the point (probably not), but here we go:
i know everyone says that women are all attracted to assholes, but i would beg to differ. i would say up until 2001 women were attracted to assholes. but around that time (according to Kellen [see footnote A1*]), douchebag came into the public lexicon.
see, there is a drastic difference between asshole and douchebag. I (your golden blog-god) am an asshole. that guy who is wearing a visor and slamming shots of jager is a douchebag. there is a huge difference. a douchebag will be a gentleman to your face because he wants to get in your pants, but the minute you are gone he will treat you like shit to his friends. An asshole (me) will treat you like shit to your face. and then when his friends are around he will treat you like shit. and then when your friends are around he will treat you like shit. see the difference?
i dont have the time/patience/care to be nice to people i don't care to be nice to. this makes me an asshole. after a year of school, the best nickname my schoolmates (what am i, a british chimneysweep?) could come up with is "asshole". but do girls coming begging my way to hop on my Harley and drive off into the sunset? Nay. But douchebags? They're busy filling out girls like applications.
Assholes get scurvy. Douchebags get crabs.
Assholes eat texas toast. Douchebags say "everything is better with beer! and tits!"
Watch out ladies, and know what you want. I don't disrespect you if you decide you would rather be with a douchebag, but i will spit in your soup when you're not looking.
This is not to say I'm bitter. I'm not. Really. I understand the feeling completely. I fucking love bitches. I don't like stuck up girls. There is a huge difference.
Now i'm bored of this, and this isn't really even funny, just mostly true.
-k
*A1 - it's how steak is done.
hopefully this will be short and to the point (probably not), but here we go:
i know everyone says that women are all attracted to assholes, but i would beg to differ. i would say up until 2001 women were attracted to assholes. but around that time (according to Kellen [see footnote A1*]), douchebag came into the public lexicon.
see, there is a drastic difference between asshole and douchebag. I (your golden blog-god) am an asshole. that guy who is wearing a visor and slamming shots of jager is a douchebag. there is a huge difference. a douchebag will be a gentleman to your face because he wants to get in your pants, but the minute you are gone he will treat you like shit to his friends. An asshole (me) will treat you like shit to your face. and then when his friends are around he will treat you like shit. and then when your friends are around he will treat you like shit. see the difference?
i dont have the time/patience/care to be nice to people i don't care to be nice to. this makes me an asshole. after a year of school, the best nickname my schoolmates (what am i, a british chimneysweep?) could come up with is "asshole". but do girls coming begging my way to hop on my Harley and drive off into the sunset? Nay. But douchebags? They're busy filling out girls like applications.
Assholes get scurvy. Douchebags get crabs.
Assholes eat texas toast. Douchebags say "everything is better with beer! and tits!"
Watch out ladies, and know what you want. I don't disrespect you if you decide you would rather be with a douchebag, but i will spit in your soup when you're not looking.
This is not to say I'm bitter. I'm not. Really. I understand the feeling completely. I fucking love bitches. I don't like stuck up girls. There is a huge difference.
Now i'm bored of this, and this isn't really even funny, just mostly true.
-k
*A1 - it's how steak is done.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
...Bite his tongue.
Despite popular belief, I am a gentleman. Or can be. Much in the same vein that a kangaroo can be a wallaby. In fact, the exact same vein. BUT! There are certain things that a person cannot, nay, must not, do when in the midst of my company.
Tonight is a perfect example.
DO NOT INSULT MY SHOES:
Like a pregnant Maury contestant, i will come at you with the fury of a thousand suns. there are many things i can't do in this world, and i'm completely aware of them. among them are included: fighting without looking like michael j fox circa 2002, winking with both eyes, and not kicking ass at foursquare. the one thing i do do (i just said doodoo), is talk shit. i talk more shit than i take, and i take a lot of shits (its medical). so the last thing you want to do, especially when you are a walrus tucked into a 1998 miami sound machine halter top is talk shit on my shoes. the world at large has come to an agreement that i own the sweetest shoes on earth. its a fact. but this girl didn't stop there. i won't get into specifics. but i can deal with bitchiness, i love it, in fact. but just be funny. if you're not, that's the biggest insult of all.
so, i digress. and also forget what i was saying. the moral of the story is, i can hold my tongue if need be. even if the girl is wearing 40 clubbed seals draped around her neck and grinding against my roommate provocatively. the fact that i was completely enthralled in conversation with a 31 year-old from Instanbul shows just how interesting you were/are. fuck you in one of the folds of your fur.
whiskey formaldehyde. i'm out.
-k
Tonight is a perfect example.
DO NOT INSULT MY SHOES:
Like a pregnant Maury contestant, i will come at you with the fury of a thousand suns. there are many things i can't do in this world, and i'm completely aware of them. among them are included: fighting without looking like michael j fox circa 2002, winking with both eyes, and not kicking ass at foursquare. the one thing i do do (i just said doodoo), is talk shit. i talk more shit than i take, and i take a lot of shits (its medical). so the last thing you want to do, especially when you are a walrus tucked into a 1998 miami sound machine halter top is talk shit on my shoes. the world at large has come to an agreement that i own the sweetest shoes on earth. its a fact. but this girl didn't stop there. i won't get into specifics. but i can deal with bitchiness, i love it, in fact. but just be funny. if you're not, that's the biggest insult of all.
so, i digress. and also forget what i was saying. the moral of the story is, i can hold my tongue if need be. even if the girl is wearing 40 clubbed seals draped around her neck and grinding against my roommate provocatively. the fact that i was completely enthralled in conversation with a 31 year-old from Instanbul shows just how interesting you were/are. fuck you in one of the folds of your fur.
whiskey formaldehyde. i'm out.
-k
Friday, February 1, 2008
...Rip off other people
Ok, this post needs one or two disclaimers. First, i know i promised you, loyal blognation, that i would only post drunkenly, but i am, in fact, sober. soberly bored, as the case may be.
second, this post was inspired by (and actually quite stolen from) friend of the blog kellensaysthis. i give him all credit, but will take it a step further. please see his post for what he could do without. consider this an addendum, perhaps if kellen and i were to create our utopia, our combined list would be the groundwork (kellen, i am currently taking name suggestions for our magical kingdom).
so, without further ado, here are the things that must go away, and the things that can stay (rhymes, see?) in this post-apocalyptic paradise:
Must Go Away:
Oboes and Macrame.
i don't really understand what you are. this confuses me and I don't appreciate being confused.
You Can Stay:
Palindromes.
you make me smile. keep up the good work. note: a lot of the oboe's problems would be solved if it dropped that 'e' on the end.
Must Go Away:
People who say "I could care less" and "irregardless".
think about what you are saying. it doesn't make sense. we have no room for your illogical ramblings in the new world. because we're too busy watching movies starring...
You Can Stay:
Recent Movies w/ Russian Villains.
i truly appreciate this because the notion of a russian bad guy is both antiquated and politically incorrect. it is comforting that movie studios are apparently still reading scripts written in the thrall of McCarthyism. besides, arab villians are more played out than movies starring martin lawrence as a cop.
Must Go Away:
Men who can grow facial hair but choose not to.
This is akin to having the cure for cancer and not sharing it. you are wasting abilities that SOME of us would kill for. it's like rubbing your stubbly gifts against the grain of my baby smooth face.
You Can Stay:
Guy who yells "Play Freebird!" at any concert, ever.
Even in the midst of our rebuilding efforts, we will need someone to make us feel better about ourselves. congrats on making the cut, guy, go ahead and celebrate by ordering a red wine because you think you are being ironic and asking the sound guy what kind of mics they are using while nodding your head knowingly.
Must Go Away:
People who take baths.
you are disgusting. gravity works, use it.
You Can Stay:
The Tremendous Twelve breakfast at Perkins.
Ain't nothing wrong with you. Also, the perfect name for our band consisting of four guys.
Must Go Away:
Those Charmin commercials with the bears.
These commercials make me uncomfortable on several levels. first, i'm not sure why bears are wiping their asses. second, thinking about this makes me think about those bears being naked, and walking around after just wiping their bear bottoms (get it? whatever, fuck off). also, there is no way to get your bear ass clean with all that fur. bears already make me nervous, but the idea of a naked bear with a crusty asshole concerns me to the Nth degree.
You Can Stay:
Crazy homeless man on the corner of the street.
Yes, i saw that monster with Hitler's head, too, dude. Don't let the machines get inside you. Burgundy barbeque sauce underwear!
So there you have it, all in all, the perfect template for the ultra-modern society. i promise i will rarely, if ever, post soberly on this blitz-filled blog in the future. but better sober than never, right?
-k
second, this post was inspired by (and actually quite stolen from) friend of the blog kellensaysthis. i give him all credit, but will take it a step further. please see his post for what he could do without. consider this an addendum, perhaps if kellen and i were to create our utopia, our combined list would be the groundwork (kellen, i am currently taking name suggestions for our magical kingdom).
so, without further ado, here are the things that must go away, and the things that can stay (rhymes, see?) in this post-apocalyptic paradise:
Must Go Away:
Oboes and Macrame.
i don't really understand what you are. this confuses me and I don't appreciate being confused.
You Can Stay:
Palindromes.
you make me smile. keep up the good work. note: a lot of the oboe's problems would be solved if it dropped that 'e' on the end.
Must Go Away:
People who say "I could care less" and "irregardless".
think about what you are saying. it doesn't make sense. we have no room for your illogical ramblings in the new world. because we're too busy watching movies starring...
You Can Stay:
Recent Movies w/ Russian Villains.
i truly appreciate this because the notion of a russian bad guy is both antiquated and politically incorrect. it is comforting that movie studios are apparently still reading scripts written in the thrall of McCarthyism. besides, arab villians are more played out than movies starring martin lawrence as a cop.
Must Go Away:
Men who can grow facial hair but choose not to.
This is akin to having the cure for cancer and not sharing it. you are wasting abilities that SOME of us would kill for. it's like rubbing your stubbly gifts against the grain of my baby smooth face.
You Can Stay:
Guy who yells "Play Freebird!" at any concert, ever.
Even in the midst of our rebuilding efforts, we will need someone to make us feel better about ourselves. congrats on making the cut, guy, go ahead and celebrate by ordering a red wine because you think you are being ironic and asking the sound guy what kind of mics they are using while nodding your head knowingly.
Must Go Away:
People who take baths.
you are disgusting. gravity works, use it.
You Can Stay:
The Tremendous Twelve breakfast at Perkins.
Ain't nothing wrong with you. Also, the perfect name for our band consisting of four guys.
Must Go Away:
Those Charmin commercials with the bears.
These commercials make me uncomfortable on several levels. first, i'm not sure why bears are wiping their asses. second, thinking about this makes me think about those bears being naked, and walking around after just wiping their bear bottoms (get it? whatever, fuck off). also, there is no way to get your bear ass clean with all that fur. bears already make me nervous, but the idea of a naked bear with a crusty asshole concerns me to the Nth degree.
You Can Stay:
Crazy homeless man on the corner of the street.
Yes, i saw that monster with Hitler's head, too, dude. Don't let the machines get inside you. Burgundy barbeque sauce underwear!
So there you have it, all in all, the perfect template for the ultra-modern society. i promise i will rarely, if ever, post soberly on this blitz-filled blog in the future. but better sober than never, right?
-k
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