December 2011
11 posts
“I’ve got a weird name. Hey, I have an idea: how about you laugh at it...”
– Zig Ziglar
I Had a Jacuzzi To Fall Back On
This will be a sex story that, I’m hoping, due to the way circumstances played out during the encounter, does not come off as disrespectful to women. I’ve been hesitant to write this because of the book “I Hope They Serve Beer in Hell,” which is actually disrespectful to women. My worst fear confirmed would be an awaiting high-five from some dickhead who’s read this and aligned the story with his...
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Everytime a co-worker makes conversation with me laced with terrible (or any) work-related humor, I steal away to the bathroom and force a razor blade across the helmet of my penis in order to reclaim as much of the feeling of being alive as possible.
The Evolution of Music (Ten Years)
Music is constantly evolving. The consumer(s) propagates this process. With a pulse on the stages of what certain genres will likely become based on current trends in taste and consumption, I’m going to give you a glimpse of what some of the music you love will sound and resemble in 10 years.
Enjoy!
Hip Hop will be dominated by the gay community.
Jam Bands, over the course of 10 years...
Fruitcake Grovelers
In the bakery I work at, we make a fruitcake. They are disgusting, yet they sell out. Can’t keep ‘em on the shelves. The physical appearance of the people who seem to clamor for them fall in lockstep with how I feel about this dessert: they breathe and sound like Bobcat Goldthwait while resembling Buster Poindexter in the movie “Scrooged.”
Rick Ross
It would be sweet and not at all disrepsectful when Rick Ross finally dies to have a button on his tombstone that, when pressed, emitted his signature, guttaral “Ugh.” (It wouldn’t be sweet and would be disrespectful, but what it absolutely would be is fucking funny)
The Sad Future
“According to your résumé, Mr. Jackson, you are a member of #TEAMFOLLOWBACK with 1,906 Following and 1,310 Followers, which does meet the minumum prerequisite of 1,500 Followers for employ as a scientist here at our Medical Science facilities.”
Nostalgia
My freshmen year of high school, in remedial math class, I watched a giant pick fall out of the black guy’s pocket who sat in front of me. Another black guy chimed in: “Hey, Dorin. You dropped your rake.” I bark-laughed. Dorin turned around, shot me a glare, asking, “What the fuck you laughin’ at, Jamie from Small Wonder?”