Ew.

I understand that sometimes regular old sex in a bed or on a couch or in the back of a Greyhound bus gets boring and people need to branch out to make it interesting again. I know that the thrill of getting caught in a public place or the adrenaline of trying to do it while driving on a winding mountain road can make the experience better. Very few would argue that having a quickie in some place not normally designated for sexual activity is fun and memorable. I know I personally have had some experiences in some places that weren't appropriate and/or legal, and it's great. I'm all about branching out.

Except for some of that crazy fetish shit...I don't get that. Like "Furries." How the fuck does dressing up like a fucking woodchuck and simulating sex with someone dressed like an owl or a skunk or a beaver (not that kind of beaver, dumbasses) help a person get their rocks off? How one could be aroused by imagining themselves being a small woodland creature while sweating profusely inside a mascot costume is perplexing. If you want to fuck a skunk, you fucking freaks, go out into the forest and find one, then have some fun. Mother Nature will let you know how she feels about that. At least you don't have to pay for porn with all of the National Geographic and Discovery and Animal Planet and Rural Farm District TV options there are. Fucking weirdos.

Or that Leather/PVC/Latex shit. What is arousing about squeezing yourself into a non-breathing material that takes an hour to put on and is almost impossible to maneuver in? How is that sexy? How is your chick being so immobile that she can't touch her toes without cutting off circulation to her legs erotic? Personally, I find one of the beauties of sex to be the opportunity to touch and feel the other person, not rub up against someone who feels like they're an electronic device heat-sealed inside one of those packages that are impossible to get open without cutting yourself. If I wanted to fuck PVC, I'd just go find some sprinkler piping and have at it. (Yes, I reused it, get off me. It's mine.)

I could go on questioning some of the more ridiculous "fetishes" ("Ooh, poop on me, please!"), but I won't, because that wasn't original intent of this particular rant. We'll just all agree that those people are fucking psychos with deep-seeded issues that only a bottle of Lunesta or a drunken walk on the outside of a bridge could solve, and move on. This is about a much more disturbing occurrence.

Yesterday, as my daughter was telling me all about her day, she mentions that she was playing in the sandbox at recess. She had a plastic shovel and was digging a hole when she happened upon "...a little sock thingy. I had no idea what it was, but it was squishy." Immediately I asked "You didn't touch it, did you?" She replied that she had only poked at it with the shovel and then buried it again.

What. The. Fuck.

Look fuckers, I don't care if you feel the need to fuck on playgrounds, I think pretty much everyone has tried that one out. But fuck, don't be a disgusting piece of shit and throw your fucking condom in the sandbox. It's not funny, it's just fucking gross. How difficult is it to just carry all of your (thankfully) wasted children and throw them away in the trash can that is 10 fucking feet away? Lazy and stupid, how did you get a chick to agree to fuck you? Were you really fucking in the sandbox itself? Were you trying to make her think she was on a beach or something? Did you spit on her to simulate the spray of a wave crashing nearby? How pleasant was that? Sand all up in her shit making the 30 seconds of "pleasure" you gave her feel like you were wrapped in 40 grit sandpaper...yeah, she's going to be calling you back tomorrow for some more of that. Although maybe sanding is some new fetish I don't know about yet. Whatever. Just stop being a disgusting bastard and leaving the aftermath of your coital adventures anywhere near a spot that kids could happen upon it while they're innocently digging holes to China at recess.

I hate people.

Did Someone Just SPAM My Comments Section?

What the fuck is this?

Gillion said...

are you getting better now? Pei Pa Koa (Link deleted because FUCK YOU) is one of the few Chinese natural cough remedies that have been scientifically studied. it's something like herb plus honey, and it's sweet, thick and black in color. If you have a cough, look for it! It used to be one of my favourite natural cough remedies.

if your cough persists, seek professional help such as traditional Chinese medicine physicians - I have had very good experiences with them.
September 20, 2010 2:19 AM

Am I getting better? Well, I wasn't sick, but now I'm fucking irritated, so no. Clearly you are just a spamming piece of shit, because if you had actually read the post to which you replied, you might have noticed that nowhere did I mention being sick. Nowhere did I mention any need for any natural fucking cough remedies. Even if I did need a natural cough remedy, I certainly wouldn't be looking for advice on the best ones available from some random fucking asshole on the internet. No, I would ask people who I know and trust or my doctor, I wouldn't count on some unsolicited advice from some fuckwad who has nothing better to do with their day than spam the internet. Fucking loser. Take your natural cough remedy and shove it up your ass.

Who the fuck are these people whose lives are so fucking inconsequential that they just sit around writing code to spam shit? I'm pretty fucking anti-social, but never have I been sitting around thinking "Ha, it might be cool to fuck with people through random chickenshit cyber-attacks. Let me think of some funny Viagra and penis enlargement headlines..."

I realize that at some point during your time in the womb, spammer, that the load of drugs your mom was doing in an effort to kill your unwanted ass quietly started to affect you, but that's still no excuse. Nor is the fact that you annoyed everyone you ever came in contact with enough to the point that they ridiculed you into basement seclusion, where you wasted your days playing various role-playing games where you had the power to smite the people who were socially acceptable and jacking off to binary and html code. No, the fact that you're pretty much a bag of wasted organs does not give you the right to annoy everyone else who doesn't give one fuck about Hoodia or cheap Vicodin prescriptions or having a 14" inch penis that makes women [insert whatever misspelled sound effect word you choose here]. Get a fucking life, you cock-sucking reject.

Stop spamming the important good work I am trying to do here, fuckers. Fuck your ancient Chinese secret bullshit.

Potpourri

Hey, fuckstain who has been honking your fucking car horn every fucking morning at 8 o'clock the last 4 days: stop that shit you inconsiderate asshole. Just because you're awake and too fucking lazy to walk 15 feet to the front door of whomever it is you are picking up doesn't give you the right to annoy the rest of us who might be trying to sleep after working until the middle of the night. Get your thoughtless, lazy fucking ass out of your ride and walk to the door. You will greatly lessen your chances of someone in the neighborhood going Office Space on your car.

Hey, Dollar General: you're a bunch of fucking liars. First off, almost nothing in your store costs only one dollar. Secondly, how the fuck does a dollar store have shit that costs $4.35? Nothing anywhere costs $4.35. That has to be some sort of typo. Third, aren't "dollar stores" supposed to be cheaper? Almost everything I saw in your store short of the random, poorly made plastic shit that only the Haiti broke fuckers would consider buying (yeah, I said that, save your "aww..." for someone who has a heart) was more expensive than it would be at one of the big box stores or a grocery store. Yeah, whatever, your knock-off Crocs might be cheap, but there should be a bin full of poles or sticks or something next to them so that the rest of us can rap the shit out of someone's knees should they consider buying them. I had never been in a Dollar General before, and I needed one fucking thing. I found it, but only after being let down and then pissed off by your blatant lies. I am not a fan of yours Dollar General.

Hey, old bitch who works the register at Dollar General: I know you probably don't have a lot of education. I know you're probably only working this job because your deadbeat son is stealing from your Social Security. I know that social grace probably isn't one of your skill sets. As long as you can scan that one thing and give me my change, we're good. The scanning went well, good job. But WHAT THE FUCK? Why did you feel that it was OK to cough like you want to eject a lung directly into your hand and then immediately grab my change out of the register? Really? Not even an attempt to wipe that shit on your pants or anything? Holy fuck, excuse yourself and go wash your hands, bitch. I can wait two minutes. Or better yet, go to aisle 3 and get one of those $2.41 bottles of hand sanitizer and pour half of it on your hands and half on my change. Fuck. Who does that? I am not a fan of yours, Dollar General. You either, Freida Flu Bug. Fortunately I am psychotic enough to carry some sanitizer in my car. Sanitizer I bought at a decent price at a better fucking store.

Hey, soccer parents surrounding me at my kid's soccer game today: shut the fuck up. You talk too much, and you talk about stupid shit. We're supposed to be sitting here supporting our kids while they run around in the heat trying to make us proud, you could at least pretend to pay attention. It's one hour. You can peel yourself away from the enthralling world of pedicures or real estate concerns or "Dan's new 5 series" or how cute the Hoffmeier's new puppy is long enough to pretend to care about your kid. You never know when she might do something great and you will have missed it because you were too busy talking about some stupid shit that could have waited 20 minutes. Not only that, but your constant yapping is fucking annoying. Shut. Up. We have about 10 more games. Shut the fuck up at all of them.

Damn, I need a beer.

Isostearawhatwhatwhat?

Even though this useless blog has "Hippie" in the title, I can assure you that I am not a hippie. Yes, I espouse some of their principles in wanting people to take care of the environment, live more sustainably, and have as much sex as one can have. I do not, however, espouse nor approve of their willingness to go days without bathing and allowing Patchouli oil to serve as their odor blocking methods. It doesn't work, hippies, you still smell like you just swam though a pond full of French onion soup on the hottest Arizona summer day. Only now, you've added the wretched stink of Patchouli. I know you want peace, man, but making those around you angry by fouling up the air worse than any paper mill could isn't a way to achieve that.

No, I must bathe. I must bathe regularly and often. I suffer from what is commonly known as Autodysomophobia. Yeah, it is a word; Google it, bitches. Don't doubt me. I live in constant fear of offending someone with my personal odor. I am ridiculous in this to the point that if I smell something foul, no matter how unlikely it is that I am the culprit, I have to find a way to check ("Hey, maybe I did shit my pants in this room full of babies"). Yes, it is that bad sometimes. Even when I know it is impossible that I am the one who is funking up the joint, I am anxious that I am. It's another of my really fun quirks.

Anyway, as I was taking a shower yesterday, I started reading the back of the bottle of Dial 3D All Day Odor Defense body wash. I have used this same type of body wash for a while, and never before have I read the back because quite frankly, there are only three things I consider when buying soap: Can I afford it, do I like the smell, and will it keep my ass from getting funky? This one meets all three requirements, so I buy it. I don't need to look at the label. But I did. And it was weird.

I don't have the bottle directly in front of me right now, so I will paraphrase a couple of things, but they will be accurate.

The first thing I find is that Dial promises me that they will destroy odor by using "Odor Control Agents" that will attack the germs that cause odor. Well no wonder hippies don't bathe. There is nothing peaceful about that statement at all. That is a unmistakable provocation with intent to slaughter entire colonies of germs...that is terrible. If you're a hippie. For me, I say "Rock on, Dial, kick some fucking ass with reckless abandon and spare no one." War is hell, I want those odor causing germs to suffer like Belial is having a very bad day. I am glad that Dial cares enough about me to be willing to take up this fight, and from now on, any time I lather up, I am going to envision the agents of the Odor Control Brigade and the sacrifices they make so I don't stink like rotten potato water.

The next thing I find is a list of chemical ingredients with names that I couldn't even begin to pronounce, much less know what they mean. Cocamidopropyl Betaine? Isostearamidopropyl Morpholine Lactate? Are these the things that act as my own personal Secret Service, willing to take a bullet for my aroma? If so, cool, but how the fuck do they come up with this shit? I envision some lab dorks sitting around and another lab dork running in with the excitement of a kid who just discovered porn (yes, with the requisite hard-on) saying something like "Hey guys, I was playing around with the Isopromethylwhatthefuckitall and I mixed in some Chlorofluorofuckthisnameislong and it smells like mangoes and Tahitian sand...let's make some soap! And the other lab nerds get excited and all go running to the lab so they can try and make up their own 18 letter chemical.

No, my soap doesn't smell like mangoes, but I needed an example that which you, the reader, could envision and relate to. If I had said "it smells like fresh" you would have had nothing to attach that to. That's bad writing, and I won't do that to the 4 of you who read this. I care.

Not as much as Dial does, because I'm not going to war. But I'm glad they will, because I need someone on my side to battle these damned odor causing germs. Those fuckers are everywhere, and contrary to what the fucking hippies might say, they don't deserve to live.

Dear Neighbor Guy

Hey man, I know that it's early on a Saturday morning and there aren't many people who might drive by your place. I know that it's your place and your yard and you have the right to feel comfortable there. That's fine. However, please remember that your back yard faces a road that is slightly above the level of your yard, and your chain-link fence doesn't really hide much. That being said, please put some fucking clothes on.

It's early, it's Saturday, and I am taking my tired, grumpy ass to work; the last fucking thing I want to see is your fat ass walking around your back porch in nothing but your boxers. Thank you for further annoying my morning with the visual of you and your massive fucking gut waddling around in your underwear. I'm not sure at what body fat percentage you begin to lose all semblance of body consciousness, but obviously you passed it a long time ago. I guess maybe if I had no hope of ever seeing my penis again without some lifting help and a mirror I might give up, too. But even if you've lost hope, there is no reason that a man who looks like he's carrying quadruplets should ever be outside without a shirt on. There are some of us who still have the hopes of not having to look at tubby bastards in their underwear when we're still waking up. I know that society accepts men going shirtless as o.k., but there is a line where it becomes vulgar, and you have crossed that line.

Please, sir, for the good of the neighborhood, get dressed when you take your ass outside. Be as naked as you want to be inside your house with the blinds closed, but once you step outside...cover that shit. Everyone on the street will thank you.

!!!!!!

Anyone who has a 1st grade education understands that when writing, the exclamation point is utilized to express excitement, urgency, or to stress the importance of a statement. Like most punctuation, when properly used, it can add greatly to the message the writer wishes to convey to their readers. However, when used improperly, it can make the writer look like a total fucking moron and make anything they've written before completely meaningless.

I'm talking to you, dipfucks who use 19 exclamation points at the end of a sentence because you think it lets everyone know how excited you are or how much you mean whatever the fuck you just said. It doesn't do that at all. No, what it does when you type out some shit like "OMG!!!! That's so awesome that he's not banging your sister!!!!!" is make you look like a hyperactive cheerleader who just chased an amphetamine cocktail with a 32 ounce Monster. No one could read a comment like that and not hear it in a voice that would make Fran Drescher say "Fuck, that's annoying." No one takes the shit you type out seriously if you present it in a manner that reminds the readers of every annoying bitch they've ever wanted to kick in the throat.

Don't think that because I used the cheerleader analogy that I am ignoring you, guys. I know this isn't exclusive to women, there are plenty of guys out there who abuse the exclamation point. And yes, douchebags, you also sound like hyperactive cheerleaders. The really gay ones who tend to be prettier than the female cheerleaders. You may as well just type everything with a lisp so we can mock you more. And don't you dare try that shit if you're pretending to know something about something manly like football or building a deck or punching a bear in the face the last time your plane crashed in the Alaskan wilderness. I don't want to see shit like "Did you see that kick-off return!!!!!!!", because if I did see the kick off return, any excitement I had over its awesomeness is now gone because I am focused on figuring out ways to crawl through the internet so I can break your overzealous fucking fingers.

I am mostly referencing people who post on message boards, chat rooms, blogs, and facebook (although I am only going off of second information for anything regarding facebook because my boycott lives on...), because hopefully, anywhere else that people could type out things for people to read would be overseen by some sort of editor who would quell the exclamation point diarrhea in a heartbeat. As anyone who posts on any of the above knows, there are these neat little guys called emoticons (or "smilies"). Emoticons serve as a quick visual replacement for words, usually to demonstrate something like laughing or being angry or stirring a pot. Much like the exclamation point, the emoticon is abused far too often. We get it, numbnuts, you thought it was funny. We do not need to see 15 fucking laughing smiley face guys. Or a smiley face guy magnified to the point that it's just a pixelated yellow blob of shit annoying everybody who sees it. Your over-sized laughter is about as welcomed as the fucker who laughs loud enough at a dumb joke for people 3 counties away to wonder what the fuck is going on.

Stop overdoing the expressive bullshit. If this hits close to home...if one of my 4 or 5 remaining active followers feels like I may have touched a nerve...think about your tendencies. Reflect and ask yourself, am I one of those who is too inept at expressing myself properly that I have to kill the shift + 1 keys? If you are, it's not too late to change. It's never too late to be a less annoying fuck.