Tim didn’t know how the hell he got in that situation. The asshole next to him on the white line was setting his heart rate monitor, saying, “This is gonna be embarrassing for you, fucker. I’m gonna embarrass you. So bad.”

            Tim cleared his throat and looked up at the man from his chair. “There isn’t even anyone watching. I don’t see how you’re going to embarrass me.”

The man stretched his thighs, muscles exploding beneath the shaved skin. “Yeah, excuses excuses. Bring it on. Put your money where your mouth is.”

“There isn’t even any money on this. You’re just using cliché’s now.”

The man scoffed, adjusting his headband. “Let’s just do this. Just do it.”

“Are you endorsed by Nike or something?”

The man scoffed again. “Just do it. Just DO IT!” The track looked pretty long for Tim, and although his arms were strong from wheeling his chair around his whole life, the chair was old and rusted, and there was no way it could go this fast.

“I don’t even know your name. What’s your name?”

The man pointed to his shiny, huge pickup at the end of the red track. Its wheels held it about four feet in the air and it had a pair of swaying metal balls from the undercarriage. “See that truck? That brand-new fuckin’ kickass truck? That’s my name. Like a rock. That’s my name. I’m a Ford-tough man.”

“Wait,” said Tim. “That’s two different slogans. Is it a Chevy or a Ford?” The man adjusted his armband iPod.

“JUST DO IT!” Tim sighed and rolled his chair to the shining white line, watching his thin, limp legs wobble on the foot supports. “All right,” said the man, setting his GPS watch for the hundred-meter dash. “On your mark,” Tim’s arms tensed, “Get set,” Tim got set. The man was down on all fours in the sprint start position. “GO!” The man sprinted off ahead, his arms pumping fast. Tim slowly rolled over the line and kept going, watching the man getting smaller and smaller. The man turned, lifting his knees high as he ran backwards. “Oh I’m doggin’ ya! I’m doggin’ ya! You don’t got nothin’ motha fucka!” The man’s fists were already in the air, but Tim kept going.

Suddenly, there was a loud crack and the man collapsed ahead of him, blood spraying in a fountain from his thigh. He was screaming, rolling, clutching his leg and vomiting huge shining puddles from the pain.  Tim looked up in the stands, and there was a homeless man dressed in rags except for a nice new-looking fedora. He was holding a high-powered rifle, complete with night scope and tripod. He slung it over his shoulder and flashed a toothless grin at Tim, offering an exuberant thumbs-up with both hands. Tim grinned back and wheeled on as the homeless man pushed a cart full of cans away.

Tim passed the squealing, crying, moaning, bloody, quivering puddle of flesh that was the asshole. Tim left little tire trails of dark blood that quickly blended into the red track, but he swiped two pinkish smudges across the white finish line at the end of the race.

I’m running low on my Christmas spirit as I’m quickly realizing most all of my Christmas wishes are not coming true.  Smack that up against with me coming across this over-indulgent greeting card that almost two-million people have already seen (speaking of smack, that kid’s mug is begging for one):

I watched the entire extravaganza, and I guess the guy that set it up used to do special effects for Disney, but still… ick.  The song is even terrible.

It kind reminds me of a light show version of this:

"It's craptastic!"

 (And for the record… no, I am not his neighbor…)

Gawker.com just released its final tally of the votes on the “Douche of the Decade”…competition? That seems like the wrong word.

The biggest douche, by a landslide, is Joe Francis — the founder of Girls Gone Wild, and lover of ambiguous consent.

We at Awesome News couldn’t agree more.

What a Douche.

It took just a few days, but I think that I’ve already become bored at home, which means that it’ll be time to get back to my apartment. Luckily, I have a few interesting side projects to work on:

1. Legal research regarding self-defense as it relates to sexual assault and the differences (if any) between defenses to spousal assault vs. non-spousal assault.
2. A fund-raiser for Lawyers Without Borders

In the meantime, friends have come home! It’s already proven to be an eventful break.

Immediately after finals, I partook in the not-so-subtly concealed vodka I had, grabbed some food and went out drinking. I was wearing a suit, and it just so happened that the bar that we ended up going to was also hosting some kind of office Christmas party. Thanks to my dapper attire, I managed to get their 75% discount on drinks. Spectacular, except that it led to…

I can’t account for about 3 hours. I left that bar in a taxi and came back in a taxi but, for the life of me, I can’t recall what happened in those 3 hours. All I know is that I came back with my shirt unbuttoned and my tie in my pocket. No one can fill in any details. When I came back, though, I saw everything I needed to see to cap off my night: Beardso McGrundleton, 5 o’clock shadow still painted, neat as ever, on his face, standing alone at the bar at the end of the night. I was told by a friend that he had been hitting on, and had gotten rejected by, the same girl continually all night. Schadenfreude, you warm my heart.

…

LF visited! I made sweet potato and chicken quesadillas and they were everything I thought they would be. We caught up on Friday Night Lights and Jersey Shore and memories and it was just lovely. And now even more friends are coming home from inconveniently placed locales and it makes up, almost entirely, for the unsettling onset of winter.

…

I got terribly excited when, while standing in the bathroom, I stepped on something warm and squishy with my bare foot. I should explain that my chihuahua, when she was with us, was mostly paper trained. But, if no paper was available (or all the time as she got older), she just crapped on anything that wasn’t the floor. And then, eventually, anywhere. So, I got excited for the briefest moment until I realized that what I stepped on was only a wet bath mat.

…

I can’t help but feel, every time I pass the new construction of 1 World Trade Center adjacent to the vacant, concrete footprint of the Twin Towers, that they’re building a tombstone next to an open grave.

…

I visited my grandparents today. I continually feel guilty that my hold on the Russian language isn’t strong enough to fully grasp and internalize all of the stories that my grandparents have for me. I find it odd, also, that the political discussions that I have with them are never as vitriolic as the ones that I have with my parents.

And my heart breaks a little more each time my grandmother asks me a question that I answered just seconds prior.

Watts reports:

He then focuses on RealClimate.org co-founder William Connolley, who has “touched” 5,428 Wikipedia articles with his unique brand of RC centric editing:

All told, Connolley created or rewrote 5,428 unique Wikipedia articles. His control over Wikipedia was greater still, however, through the role he obtained at Wikipedia as a website administrator, which allowed him to act with virtual impunity. When Connolley didn’t like the subject of a certain article, he removed it — more than 500 articles of various descriptions disappeared at his hand. When he disapproved of the arguments that others were making, he often had them barred — over 2,000 Wikipedia contributors who ran afoul of him found themselves blocked from making further contributions. Acolytes whose writing conformed to Connolley’s global warming views, in contrast, were rewarded with Wikipedia’s blessings. In these ways, Connolley turned Wikipedia into the missionary wing of the global warming movement.

The Medieval Warm Period disappeared, as did criticism of the global warming orthodoxy. With the release of the Climategate Emails, the disappearing trick has been exposed. The glorious Medieval Warm Period will remain in the history books, perhaps with an asterisk to describe how a band of zealots once tried to make it disappear.

Of course he did.  He’s a fascist totalitarian globalist supporting douche of maximum Massengill power.

I believe he rewrote those articles due to the fact his penis is only two inches long and shaped like a peanut.  It’s clear he’s simply lashing out at the world for his lack of manhood like an angry child throwing a temper tantrum.

Men with small penises are inherently drawn into the fascist globalist movement that’s run by power hungry oligarchs, unelected bureaucrats, fascist tyrants, and your usual smattering of 3rd world tin pot dictators.

He’s in good company:

Share this post :

“So, what is ’sex’ for lesbians, anyway? I mean, neither of you have a dick, so it’s not like you can really fuck. You just haven’t been fucked by the right dick yet.”

You know, you’re right, guy who still high-fives and wears Ed Hardy shirts. Obviously we dykes can’t have “real” sex. “Real” sex requires use of your giant cock. You describe “sex” as the act of penetration. And even though I can penetrate a woman using other methods, and probably find her G-spot more quickly and efficiently than you can, I’m not having real sex with her. It’s ‘cause I can’t cum in her butt crack, isn’t it? Don’t be shy…you know that’s your jizz-catching area of choice…usually ‘cause you’re fucking her doggy-style…or you just have it in her asshole…I’m not insinuating you’re a closet homo or anything. Your protein shake is ready.

As stated by Jenny Schecter, in Showtime’s The L Word, “The primary sex act for women involves giving one’s partner the best and most mind-blowing orgasm.” With that said, “sex” could be anything from watching your partner fly solo with her vibrator, to fucking her with a strap-on. Penetration is usually encouraged, but not necessary. Some of us, however, get our rocks off simply by “topping” our lovers. We don’t necessarily want anything in return; we just want to make our ladies cum. Hard. And often.

So to answer your question, Broseph, pleasuring a woman with my mouth isn’t just “oral,” it’s sex. And penetrating her with my hand isn’t just “fingering” her, it’s sex. And using a dildo or strap-on with her isn’t “pretending to have a dick,” it’s sex. We’re not fucking each other because we haven’t met you yet, we’re fucking each other because we like to fuck women. It’s okay, honey…I’d be jealous of my black 9-inch too.

August 31, 2009

[To see the blog at Creative Loafing, click here.]

Let me give you a little background on the sitation that I find myself in.  I’m American, living in SE Asia for work related purposes.  You don’t need to any more personal details than that other than to say that SE Asia is a tiny fucking place. 

Men suck sometimes.  I think I’m going to find the nearest one and punch him.  They have to fuck everything up.  You go and find one you like and turns out, he only wants “to be friends”.  What the fuck is up with that shit?!  And not to mention that there is a shortage of attractive, available, non-slutty men here who I would be willing to sleep with.  I’m too awesome for this shit.  You don’t want to come and get it?  Fine!  Don’t! I’ll give it to someone better, Douchebag! (He will be referred to from now on DB).  I’m a small, petty person and I am going to enjoy watching you suffer, DB.

What is weird is that two days ago my girlfriend brought home both Up and Grand Torino from the Redbox movie rental. Weird.

I didn’t have much choice.

I had to follow him home.

I hadn’t felt The Need for a long time. Not like this. So strong. So urgent. So demanding.

I needed to hurt this kid. I needed to see that look of shock, of fear, of relisation light up his face. I needed him to die.

More than that, I needed him to know he didn’t deserve to live.

I’d just been to the movies to see Paranormal Activity. Despite being a major movie buff, I hadn’t been to the cinema in quite a while. Of late I’ve preferred to cloister myself in front of a DVD. Going out to the movies is a rare treat and I was looking forward to seeing this one. I’d observed the groundswell of excitement, the talk of ‘scariest movie ever’ and the online arguments. I’m a big fan of the ‘horror’ movie. As you may soon come to realise, I’m all for violence, blood letting, stalking and mutilation. Above all, I’m a fan of suspense! Paranormal Activity definitely seemed like something that was decidedly up my alley.

Then this little, teenage fuck had to go and ruin it.

We both caught the same bus to the cinema. Even then I noticed him. Something about him irked me, tapped into my primal douchebag radar. The little fucker stood out amongst the crowd of retards and dickwads on the bus as something extra special. He kept plucking at his collar so the points stood up just right, brushing his cheeks,  and preening himself in the reflection he cast in the mirror. He also had this smug, typically teenage, arrogant look on his face that I instantly had the urge to remove for him.

But I’ve been a good boy for years now, so I pushed it to a darkened corner of my mind, closed my eyes and lost myself in my iPod. Even then I could feel this tiny tug, like a gentle gravity, reminding me he was there.

It’s been a while since TSBTB got an update. Maybe it’s the freezing weather that is keeping me from stumbling upon some of the more pathetic aspects of this city in favor of the warmth of my over-priced, cinder block living domicile at The Fillmore…

…but (and I fear this is closer to the real truth)…maybe it is just that I am getting used to it.

‘NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!’

Lucky for me, two incidents occurred this past week that has bitch-slapped me out of my SF complacency and has re-awakened the hate fire for this city that burns strong and bright, deep within the caverns of my dark soul.

First item up for perusal was  forwarded to me just a few minutes ago from a dear friend  lucky enough to be living in the real California (also known as LA). The second being an awesome video I managed to snag on the train on Market of some random, crazy dude being all random and crazy.

**Update** Apparently uploading video is only available if you pay around $50.00 a month. No way is that gonna’ happen.**

The SF Weekly news is running a report via their mobile site about how extreme the ridiculous levels of suckage in SF have actually gotten. Here’s a mere snippet from the front page to whet your appetite for rampant idiocy:

The Worst-Run Big City in the U.S.

Despite its good intentions, San Francisco is not leading the country in gay marriage. Despite its good intentions, it is not stopping wars. Despite its spending more money per capita on homelessness than any comparable city, its homeless problem is worse than any comparable city’s. Despite its spending more money per capita, period, than almost any city in the nation, San Francisco has poorly managed, budget-busting capital projects, overlapping social programs no one is certain are working, and a transportation system where the only thing running ahead of schedule is the size of its deficit.

It’s time to face facts: San Francisco is spectacularly mismanaged and arguably the worst-run big city in America. This year’s city budget is an astonishing $6.6 billion — more than twice the budget for the entire state of Idaho — for roughly 800,000 residents. Yet despite that stratospheric amount, San Francisco can’t point to progress on many of the social issues it spends liberally to tackle — and no one is made to answer when the city comes up short.

The city’s ineptitude is no secret. “I have never heard anyone, even among liberals, say, ‘If only [our city] could be run like San Francisco,’” says urbanologist Joel Kotkin. “Even other liberal places wouldn’t put up with the degree of dysfunction they have in San Francisco. In Houston, the exact opposite of San Francisco, I assume you’d get shot.”

Wachs and Eskenazi deserve both  an award for bravery (it takes some sack to rag on  such a self-righteous city within it’s own newspaper) and a 24 hour police escort to protect them from the  aggressive-passive-aggressiveness that is sure to descend in full force from the various wanna-be hippies, pseudo-Liberals and ham-fisted jocks hidden in the dingy veneer of hipster clothing.

Wachs. Eskenazi. I applaud you both.

Gawker TV put together a 3 minute montage of the top 100 web videos of 2009. I’ve seen 90% of them. Does that make me a loser, or well cultured? The list is slightly flawed because they forgot to include “The Douchebag Anthem,” “In My Prius,” and “Druncle.” I’m sure they’ll amend it soon.  My favorite video of ‘09 is by far “Been Had Money.” If you weren’t fortunate enough to experience this yet, here is your chance. “Benjamin Franklin, dem ain’t none yo friiieeends!”

Yes, I spelled ridiculous like redickulous, and you fucking love it.

I am against group work.  It’s either individual work or nothing.  Of everyone I know, I could tell you that only one girl is reliable, and is willing to divided the work equally, and without coincidence, she was born the same day I was born.  No, I’m not talking about myself, to those who believe I’m approaching this from an original perspective. 

Anyway.   For physics, we had to work in pairs; the person sitting horizontal to us.  I was paired up with a girl, ’swell.  All was great until I typed in the website.  I was apparently the only person willing to put any effort into comprehending the activity whilst she groaned and pissed on how annoying Physics is.  Right, because the feeling isn’t mutual. 

The activity was over a span of two days, two days of me working on the assignment without any external help.  No, I did not ask anyone for help.  Proud?  Not exactly, I’ve always been an independent worker, bless my rational state. 

So today, she asked if I could help her understand what we’re doing so she could help me.  What the fuck, is what I thought, and what the fuck is what you are thinking.   Why would I waste my efforts teaching you how to do something so that you could help me do the thing I already know how to do?  It’s a negating effect that I simply couldn’t bare to enact, so I told her that I got it under control and that she could figure it out herself.  She didn’t.  Back to the “I hate physics,” whinny state.  How much I loved it.

I’m first to finish in class, maybe second, who gives a fuck, really?  I swiftly turn in the package before anyone could bombard me for answers and the teacher asks, “Did she help you?”  Being the too-nice-therefore-stupid person that I am, I told him that she did two pages.  He gave me a nod and flashed her a my-undescended-testicles-you-did-half-of-the-work look and departed.  Bless him. 

I’m not sure how it got around but I heard the friend of the underachiever tell her, “Oh my God, I want her next time!”  Honestly, my pride was destructed.  What the fuck am I, a Chia pet?  You can have me next time implies your stupidity and that I am a pushover.  Fuck.  I considered staying after class to tell the teacher that she didn’t do jack, that it was all of my efforts but my friends talked me out of it.  Should I have stayed after class and told?  I don’t fucking know.   But I do know this, I will strive to become apathetic when it comes to dealing with others’ feelings.  Final fucking choice.  Also, I will refuse to work in pairs ever again.  A the fucking men.

Quote for the moment:

People are douchebags, they are so unworthy and so insignificant that they are used to scrub vaginal discharge.

This guy loves telling other boys about his penis.  SO FUCKING ALPHA.

I don’t consider myself a ’seasoned’ traveler by any stretch of the word and it’s meanings. I travel out of town for my company 3 times a year- 2 of which are the same and one that changes yearly. This past 2009 I went to D.C., San Diego and most recently Atlantic City. We do road trips throughout the year but nothing too far, Iowa, Nebraska mostly.

However, my lack of experience in travel does not lower my aptitude to know what we have here in KC. First and foremost is in my opinion the worlds greatest Airport. What major city airport has FREE 1/2 hr parking?? Let alone the 5.50 a day long term parking?? No one. That’s who.  Pick up and drop off is easy as pie. You have 3 circular jerk patterns where one can easily do just that, pick up and drop off without having the gestapo policemen and women..mostly women…come and harass you. Granted you can’t leave your potential car bomb unattended but you can give hugs and kisses without guilt at MCI. Here’s another feature most airports suck at..Security. EACH airline has their OWN security line vs. ONE with 50 lines (Dulles, Phoenix, Reagan, Philly). This means a line of maybe 20 at it’s peak. You also have friendly midwestern attitudes= which is to say they aren’t programmed to be rude and short tempered. Sure they maybe a bad day person but it’s ‘normal’ at other airports. Here, in KC you expect courtesy.  We really do have a great airport people…

Clean Air: being a relatively NEW city – KCMO,KCKS compared to Philly, New York, Boston as well as San Diego our air quality here & Water are outstanding. You can literally smell the remnants of raw sewage in D.C.’s tap water. Don’t drink tap in D.C. Pay the 4.00 for the 12oz bottle of water… the smog in San Diego is a sight to see. The yellow haze is/was there every morning rising with the sun and blocks otherwise views of the Pacific. It was depressing. KC…has a thin layer but when it’s nice and cold out like today…well it’s CLEAR. Our air here has depth and intelligence with twists of burning wood and leaves. It’s mostly natural. All cities have pollution, grafitti & crime – and we can certainly lower the crime rate here in KC but step back and realize that our city is “CLEAN” without much grafitti — which I LOVE good Graf when I see it and take pix when able. I love it…but the ones I don’t like so much are the gang ones…anywhoo… take a look around the streets, roads, high ways…for the most part we have a clean city. Go to South Philly and compare…let alone South St. Louis….

Attitudes– as mentioned above with the security peeps at the airport…for me East Coasters have a chip on their proverbial shoulders. They were born with attitude. Born I say. Maybe it’s a learned trait….but damn do they get pissed off in a hurry. Just this trip alone I witnessed 1/2 dozen meltdowns and only 2 were alcohol related. Maybe it’s the tonal whney nasaly voices like Fran that get me or the Brooklyn/Philly ‘HOW YADOIN!’ accent that automatically makes me think they are retarded. Retarded in a sense of intelligence to communicate without falling back on accusations and defensiveness. Most of my comparisons come from TV and the Sopranos so don’t mind my ignorance on Jersey people. I even watched “Jersey Shore” on MTV while I was a mere 45 mins South of where they filmed the show. I saw at least 50 ‘Guidos’ and as many “Guidettes” while playing poker at Ceasars and the Taj. It’s as if I left another world and the “Jersey” people invaded the area with orange spray on tans, men with perms…by the way what is the main bloodline for New Jersey’ans? I would guess Puerto Rican/African/Italian in that order…but I’ve never seen so many guys with gerry-curl hair and being ‘white’. I pictured the “Soul Glow” commercial from “Coming to America” but with Italians with the name of “Guido Glow”. Prolly had to be there.

This leads me to the eye candy. I have a personal ranking system of beautiful women from the USA– only based on what I ’see’ and ‘like’. I would rank NJ on the bottom half..maybe 35th for hot ladies, beautiful women. Most look like strippers and while thats not a BAD thing it’s not ‘beauty’ to me. My top 5 are: 1. Texas 2. Florida 3. Nebraska 4. North Carolina 5. Kansas/Mo. (one and the same…sorta…). The women in KC are conservative in dress but when they want to dress it up they do so in a class way. Tact. Colors that coordinate, clothing that has respect. Hair, nails, smells of midwestern and southern women exude style and grace. Women of the midwest are also well read and while they do tolerate they’re husband, boyfriends watching shitty teams like the Chiefs, Royals & Rams they know that their ‘men’ like having them around. Equals (for the most part). We don’t have chips on our shoulders. We have a relaxed mindset. Calming. There is very few of that going around in the east.

I love that KC has weather that changes. Mayors that look like they came from the late 70’s. Roads that are constantly being worked on. Don’t like having professional farm leagues (MLB/NFL) but at least we have sports! I like the fact If I’m needing help from my neighbors or strangers, odds are they will help. I used to smoke and if I did in NJ I’d be paying 8.89 per pack. Here in KC is just around 4.50. I can breathe here.

I like KC. I don’t take it for granted.

We all have one or at least something close to one… The Deadbeat Uncle. The guy that couldn’t quite get it right. He drinks a little too much, gambles a little too often and never lives up to his potential. He probably married a great girl, treated her poorly, knocked her up and left. He has pennies in his bank account, none of which go to the kids, but dammit, he is family. And that means he’ll be needing a gift this year so, how about one of these treasures this holiday season?

Miss

I don’t care if you lick windows,
Take the special bus
Or occasionally pee on yourself….
You hang in there sunshine,
You’re friggin’ special

i miss this:

and my boys needs to come back.

Mike: [reading his letter] Brendan, you screened my call, douchebag. You’re a really big douche! If you were a superhero, you’d be Captain Douchebag. Your superpowers would be screening calls and the ability to wreck any hang, Douche. And then I drew a picture of you as Captain Douchebag.
PJ Franklin: Who’s he fighting?
Mike: That’s a giant lizard.

also, the snow on this blog follows the direction of your mouse if you’re reading this in chrome. COOL BEANS!

LMAO- how very relevant. ok, i’m really done bashing ed hardy lovers for now. i by “for now” i mean for the next 24 hours. HMOTD, check.

also, read THIS. 90’s mariah carey fans, unite!

I usually need a small amount of motivation to get out of bed in the morning. It really doesn’t have to be much and 90% percent of the time it’s food/bacon related. This morning I was struggling until I remembered that my DVR had the newest episode of MTV’s Jersey Shore. I shot out of bed so fast that I almost gave myself whiplash and I’m pretty sure I may have broken the sound barrier. I’m having trouble coming up with words to describe my love for this show, but I do know it could be the greatest hour of television on any network in the last five years.

Jersey Shore has everything to formulate a great program including douchebags/baguettes with stupid nicknames, New Jersey, liquor and boobs. This winning combination guaranteed success before the cameras started rolling. I’ve been hoping for something this epic since the first time I saw True Life: Timeshare featuring the bald guy that looked and acted like Dom from Entourage. It’s pretty safe to say that this guy singlehandedly started the entire Jersey Douche phenomenon when he flipped out over his missing “cheese balls.”

There has been more drama in the first two episodes than The Hills, Laguna Beach, and every episode of The Real World combined. Every cast member has done the “I’m so serious about leaving the show that I’m going to start packing my bags” routine and I can promise there will be plenty more. We also have characters with nicknames like “Paulie D,” “Snooki,” and “The Situation.” The Situation, are you serious? The situation is that you have an I.Q. of negative 130 and have done more steroids than Schwarzenegger in Pumping Iron.

The story lines are fueled with a potent mix of creatine and silicone which obviously leads to captivating, intellectual social commentary. Ronnie and Sammi are the sweetest couple eva and I am praying for an inevitable spin-off series. Also, “J-Woww” just broke up with her married boyfriend and since being single, herpes outbreaks have gone up 435%. The trash content of this show would clog any garbage disposal and that’s what is keeping me hungry for more. I almost stood and cheered during the preview of next weeks episode where it showed Snooki getting punched in the face by a dude. Can they show that on TV and more importantly, did she deserve it? Probably not, but you bet your ass I’m still going to watch.

There is just too much to discuss about this show, stay tuned for part 2…

An anonymous girl writes in to give him a shit test and this guy backs the fuck off, with his tail between his legs, leaving his undescended testicles behind.  SO FUCKING ALPHA.