Yea I'm full of rage, what of it?

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Kristen Stewart? You mean that thing with the underbite?

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Is it just me, or is Kristen Stewart just incredibly annoying? Why is she on the cover of every magazine trying to look tough with her greasy hair draped over one eye?

 I’m sorry—it’s difficult for me to take you seriously as a teen outlaw type when that gargantuan jaw makes you look more down syndrome than desperado.

I would suggest learning to breathe through your nose.

Does anyone remember Stehanie Tanner from Full House? An uncanny resemblance, I’d say……

‘Oh I just love heroin! It makes me forget I

have the profile of a bulldog.’


Ewww!! Stephanie Tanner from Full House. Jodi Sweetin must’ve been the ugliest child star ever, aside from Danny Bonaduce that is.

Strangely enough though, Sweeten ended up being a far better bad ass than Kristen Stewart. She retired from acting before she was a legal adult, married a cop, and then he divorced her after he learned of her methamphetamine habit. You go Stephanie! Doing meth while married to a cop–now that takes balls.

FEAR: Stephanie ‘Balls’ Tanner




June 26, 2011 at 3:23 pm

10 Signs You’re a Pseudo Intellectual

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  1. Your role model is Jack Kerouac.
  2. You distribute copies of The Dharma Bums to potential elitists.
  3. You call your professor “Doc.”
  4.  You are an atheist because it’s trendy.
  5. When you figured out Kerouac was Buddhist, you denounced your atheism, tried your hand at transcendence, and warmed up to the idea of communal living and organic dining.
  6. You listen to Vampire Weekend because they have a song called “Oxford Comma.”
  7. You play the song in the company of new friends and hope they’ll ask, “What’s an Oxford comma?” so you can explain and sound like a fountain of useless pseudo intellectual garbage that no one really ever needs to know.
  8. You don’t listen to Oxford Comma in the company of fellow Elitists.
  9. You think all attractive females are vapid and superficial….especially after one of them rejects you.
  10. You spend your free time writing eloquent, feather-pen requests to Steve Colbert in hopes he’ll speak at your school and have a beer with you later.


July 29, 2010 at 11:09 am

Diaries of a Little Warrior: A Faithful Martyr

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Dear Diary,

I made it all the way to 6th period without a detention.  I thought the gods were finally giving me a break.

I was almost out the doors when someone tripped me.


I felt obligated to defend myself…or rather, give justice where justice is needed. I snatched the #2 pencil out of my pony tail and stabbed the idiot in the thigh. He howled. I laughed.

His girlfriend screamed louder than him. Should’ve stabbed her too.  Every faculty member in the joint charged me and held me by the arm until Officer “Dumbass” McNew came running like an overweight linebacker with Down’s.

Officer Dumbass stood over me and shook his head like he was SO DISAPPOINTED. But really he wasn’t disappointed or sad at all. He was happy.

He hauled me by my shirt sleeve to the Principal Larry’s office and dumped me in a chair; he held the pencil in his hand like a weapon of mass destruction. He said “Well, I caught one.” You would’ve thought he’d just rescued a burning bus full of pre-schoolers.

I told him he wasn’t even a real cop and that’s why he has to pick on little lambs such as myself.

He didn’t like that very much.  He gave me a pink slip with one whole week’s worth of detentions.

He waited outside for my mom to come pick me up and put his hand on my shoulder like I was a criminal that needed to be restrained.

Mom wasn’t very happy, but Dad laughed. He’s sleeping on the couch tonight.

It’s difficult being misunderstood. It’s hard to be the bearer of truth, to live in the light, but someone’s gotta do it.

Useful quote for the day:  “Eagles may soar, but weasels don’t get sucked into jet engines.”

(Saw it on a bumper sticker.)

Your faithful matyr,



July 21, 2010 at 11:05 pm

Diaries of a Little Warrior: A Sheep Among Wolves

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Dear Diary,

Today we read The Lamb. What in God’s name was that guy smoking and where can I find some?

What a massive pile of disingenuous orangutan manure.

Whatever happened to Shel Silverstein and asking questions that really matter like “where the hell does the sidewalk end?” I miss 5th grade. Middle school is a damper to my spirit.

Maybe old William and his wooly little beast can sit on that and spin—very delicately, of course.

In lieu of pointless poems, I wrote a little poem of my own in detention today.

I call it “Little Dog:”

Little Dog,

What spawned thee?

I know- a Daschund and a Corgi.

I love you anyway, Little Dog O’ Mine

Thou art short and stumpy with the speed of a tortoise,

And the heart of a large warrior cat of some sorts—

A Saber-toothed tiger perhaps. Those are bad ass.

Suck it, Blake.


Coach McMillen finally assigned me my own seat in detention, right by the window which is just fine by me.

 He misspelled “detention.” What a dumbass.

 When I corrected him he said not to worry about it, but I am worried that my young mind is being molded by a gym coach with a 4th grade reading comprehension.

That is enough for now; I hear the garage door opening. I’m sure Mom will have make much unnecessary ado over the bad marks on my progress report. Apparantly I suck at following directions, paying attention, staying in my seat, speaking without raising my hand and to top if off I am (allegedly) insubordinate,  disruptive, and quarrelsome.

As predicted, they’ve send me like a sheep in the midst of the wolves.

I’ll report back tomorrow.



Valuable quote for the day: “It’s hard to soar like an eagle when you’re surrounded by turkeys.” -Annonymous


July 21, 2010 at 1:50 pm

Work emails

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King James Anthony, a.k.a. Jimmy Tony- he's a big deal.

I keep a separate folder at work for my emails from friends….just for bad days when I need a little sunshine. I needed some sunshine yesterday so I started sifting through the volumes and realized just how bizarre our communication truly is…….so I thought I should share some of our correspondence. Here it is, in no particular order of strangeness or hilarity:

 EMAIL 1- On J. Alfred Prufrock’s attire (Devon’s submission)

“Those are great… This is one of my favorites:”

Devon: “Where can I get some white flannel trousers?”

Me: “In the douche bag aisle.”

EMAIL 2- Me, showing my class

DS: “Mose Allison is this awesome jazz pianist… He has a voice like butter. I’ll send you some.”

Me: “I thought you said Moose for a second. I was like, oh that’s a sweet name. I shall name my first born Moose……..then give it to you because I don’t want kids. You can take care of it in your little concrete lair.”


EMAIL 3- Conversation concerning my friend’s fear of a company bathroom stalker:

DS: “Okay, something weird has been going on the last few days, and I haven’t said anything because I was afraid I was just being paranoid or homophobic… But I know I’m not, now…

See the picture? That is the bathroom in the sales office… We share it with them. See how close the urinal is to the sink?

Monday, I was peeing, and this guy from sales comes in and washes his hands… It struck me that he took a really long time to wash his hands, but I didn’t think anything of it. We said hello, which was uncomfortable for me… I like being alone… But I was okay.

Tuesday, I walk in the bathroom and stand at the urinal, not two seconds later dude walks in and begins to wash his hands. I’m done pissing by the time he finishes washing his hands. This time, he is really chatty, asking me how my day is and stuff. I chalked it up to coincidence.

Wednesday, same thing happens. I was totally weirded out, but still unsure.


ME: “This is quite possibly the funniest thing I’ve heard in a week (it would be a month if Eliot hadn’t prank called our former principal.) My advice to you—pee on him a little then say “oops,” giggle sheepishly. If he isn’t scared away by that…..hide cameras in there and claim sexual harassment. That’s no coincidence. “

DS: “He might like the pee, looks like he might…I can’t hide cameras in there!!!!!!! I could maybe record him coming in there on audio.  This is freaking embarrassing… I can’t believe somebody actually grabbed you. I guess I’ll say something to him, if it happens again.”


EMAIL 4- Discussing my cat, Jimmy Tony

ME : “Jimmy Tony was reading his horoscopes last night. He is a fellow Aries- the sign of fire and impatience………..just look at those eyes—like two fiery coals……..”


EMAIL 5- Whining about my lunch to a friend

ME: “I’ll need to have a chat with pops tonight…….he neglected to put cheese on my sandwich. What was he thinking?”

EF: “You’ve got to be kidding me. Your parents make your lunch? Time for you to get some independence…geographically anyway, is a start. ” 


EMAIL 6- Another conversation with my uncle regarding Jimmy Tony’s most recent photo.

ME: “He’s not feeling very photogenic”

Uncle:  “To be so skinny, he seems to have awfully meaty thighs.”


EMAIL 7-A misogynistic friend reflecting on the importance of spreading his seed without financial consequences/ expressing desire to find a sugar mamma:

ME: “You should gather your seeds someday… your bastard children are between the ages of 3-15, right? You sound like you like kids.”

JS:  “My nephews are 3 and 5. Cute little guys but quite the handful. I am not sure if I would go so far as to say I like kids. I like my nephews but I am not willing to extend it any further at this point.

I am not going to gather my seed until they are all 18 or older. No need for me to get roped into paying child support.”

ME: “There’s a dirty old bag in my neighborhood, her husband lucked up and finally died of a heart attack. Anyway, she sits on her porch and screams at cars to slow down even if they’re only going 15 mph. She’s loaded, about to give herself a stroke, and I assume has a penchant for young guys considering she has every college guy in town working as her pool boy in the summer. You two would be perfect together- 2 bitter, contrary little soul mates yelling and throwing sticks at the cars and animals passing by. I can see it now, you and your 90 year old battle ax.”

JS: “good. The older the better. I’d like to pull the men’s version of an Anna Nicole Smith if I could.”



EMAIL 8:  Not asking for too much information, just a friendly “how’s your day?’

ME: “Hey, will you be at the show tonight? What have you been up to?”

MC: “Hey You! Sorry I didn’t get back to you yet… I spent a lot of time looking at porn yesterday.”



Email 8: Weighing the pros and cons of office ass kissing

DV: “I just had to kiss major butt. I hate kissing butt. I need some igniting…”

Me: “Ooooooooooooooooooooooohhhhh……..haha. muah, muah, muah. Thank you, may I have another? I NEVER do that. EVER. For any reason. This is why I will never be financially successful or liked. I would rather be poor, bitter, and feared.”



June 29, 2010 at 12:09 pm

Posted in Uncategorized

Tagged with

I Date Winners

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1. Matt was a bit of a snob. He didn’t talk to his neighbors because “they’re renters.” He liked to be trendy and wear $80 t-shirts that were eco-friendly to prove how much he loved the environment. (Never mind the fact he drove a Navigator & didn’t recycle.)

Matt broke up with me because I taunted his cat. True story.

2. Andrew had an inferiority complex because he was fat in high school and I learned, through many late night sob stories, that he never quite got over the ridicule and torment from his teenage years. He used to ask me “do these jeans make me look fat?” So, just to antagonize him and heighten his insecurities, I would reply “define fat.” I imagine I’m the one responsible for sparking his bulimia…….

Who would actually listen to me? I’m a liar.

3. Kenneth was defensive because he did not love himself, and for good reason. He was annoying and little terrifying. The smallest comment was perceived as a personal attack and warranted some witty rebuttal such as “you are” or “what’s that supposed to mean, bitch?” At first there was no malice behind my innocent comments but when I learned what a psycho I was dealing with, I got creative. I intentionally placed cryptic messages in everything I said to get a rise out of him and have some fun. My favorites include: “Wow, that zit on your head makes you look like a triclops!” and “My last boyfriend had visible muscles and little body weight, but he had more free time to work out than you did” or “well, I for one think your Napoleon complex is cute.”

4. Jacob set unrealistic goals for himself–big dreams, small brain, and zero motivation beyond his whimsical fantasies of an unattainable life. He was going to be something different every day, ranging from an astronaut, an M.D., a musician, an artist, and a war hero. I thought it best to let him dream and not interfere with his false sense of his abilities. At any rate, he was really annoying and I was looking forward to watching him fall flat on his face and realize that the real world held no important place for him. I was right, it didn’t, and when he realized he had no artistic or musical capabilities, couldn’t solve a simplistic chemistry equation if his life depended on it, and was afraid of heights, reality set in and he suffered an extreme mental collapse.

 I fled shortly thereafter. The last I heard he was 26 and completing his last year of community college and bagging groceries at Publix. Aim low, you have a better chance of nailing your target…and for God’s sake, easy on the self-esteem!

5. Caleb was a philosophy major and an amateur photographer with a pseudo-artistic temperament. He skulked around all day and whined about life—“but what is life?” What is life really to the disgruntled, pampered, trustafarian wanderer?

When daddy foots the bill for a double major in philosophy and religion, then presents a fall-back plan to work for his company when his son decides he’s tired of wearing Rainbows and listening to Bob Dylan………………life can be anything you want.

I was eventually exhausted from hearing about his long walks in the park, his play-by-play analyses of a family of squirrels, the things he learned about relationships by watching frogs mate, and his zeal to start a protest….if he ever found anything worth protesting. He eventually used his undergraduate in philosophy to attend law school and is now a defense attorney.

“You’re reading Fitzgerald, you’re reading Hemingway,

 They’re both super smart and drinking in the café.”

-Regina Spektor “Poor Little Rich Boy.”


May 6, 2010 at 11:41 am

A few things that make me uncomfortable:

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And you thought the before photo was bad.......don't touch my food, Skank!

1. Meth addicts You know, I can sort of see how someone stupid might try heroin …it’s a little glamorized I guess. Former junkies definitely look like the streets have been hard, but their faces are usually still intact…but dear God, meth heads? Why in the world would anyone try this drug even once? There are chain emails and billboards plastered everywhere with those photos of the chronology of a meth users life and they’re pretty repulsive.


Gag me.

There was a meth head that made my sandwich at Subway once. She was all hallowed and scabby looking so I pitched my chicken wrap in the garbage bin outside. I could never eat knowing those crusty hands made my food. Repulsive.

2.  People who stand too close in check out lines:

You know who I am talking about. If you’re one of those people, someday someone’s going to head butt you and make you wish you hadn’t clung to their heels like an impatient donkey. The last thing I want to see in my peripheral when I’m standing in the check out aisle at Target is a slack jawed Neanderthal fogging up my glasses.

3.  Pentecostals:  I went to a Pentecostal church once with my friend from elementary school because her father was the preacher. He was screaming so loud his eyes were bulging out of his head. What’s more, he spoke in a language that sounded strangely demonic. Come to think of it, he sounded just like the little girl who masturbates with the cross in the Exorcist. Hey, I’m just saying!

I report, you decide.


April 8, 2010 at 2:38 pm