SHUT. THE. FUCK. UP.

This morning I had a late breakfast at Lynn's Paradise Cafe. The food at Lynn's is delicious and the place is a lot of fun, but it's NOT where you want to go for a quiet, relaxing meal. I completely understood this going in, but I was still annoyed by the chatterbox fuckface sitting at the table directly behind me.

This man did not shut his cornbread-hole for ONE SECOND during the duration of my stay. I don't know as much about lifelong friends as I do about this chatty choda. His two dining companions encouraged his monotonouslogue by insipidly giggling at his obvious, telegraphed, hackneyed jokes. They were either the most polite people ever or as easily amused as a stadium of Dane Cook fans (I did it again, Lauren).

He was one of those people who think their every fucking thought is a historic revelation to be shared with the undeserving masses. In other words, he's like a blogger. Shit.

But you only read the blogs you want to read! He was a non-stop audio post about everything that ever happened to him from the day he peed his pants in kindergarten up to that very moment sitting in the restaurant. The guy's a douchebag wikipedia.

When his food arrived I thought he'd shut up for a minute. No such luck. He never ever ever stopped talking about the numbing minutiae of his unfortunate existence. Since the server eventually took away an empty plate, I can only assume he has a second mouth on his neck, put there years ago by rogue surgeons so he wouldn't starve to death. Yes, I think this guy would sooner perish from undernourishment than deprive the world of his voice for even an instant.

Thanks for ruining my breakfast, Man With Two Mouths. I'm sure we'll meet again when we're roommates in Hell.

HA HA HA

Why are Calvin and Hobbes laughing? Because they just found out that the annoying redneck hillbilly manager where I work, the one who made everyone's life a hell with her immense stupidity, was fired for stealing.

To be more specific, she was fired for stealing from the Coke machine! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!! Only a fuck-brained trailer trout would risk her job to steal coins! I guess her meth dealer takes loose change.

This woman was a nitpicking twit who browbeat employees for the slightest real or imagined transgression, all the while stealing her fortune one quarter at a time. She was truly a criminal mastermind. And by "criminal mastermind" I mean "slurry-witted yokel."

Well, as the late actress Jane Ace once said, "Time wounds all heels."

Thoughts on a cold, cold night

It's so cold outside that the facial features of this whimsical cartoon boy have been horribly distorted!

-Seriously, it's cold out, with the kind of wind that'll rip your nips off. And before you write in and say "I'm from (Bismark, Fargo, Buffalo, etc); you don't know what cold is!" keep in mind I live in what is considered by some a Southern city. You Northerners don't have horse-cunt humidity to deal with all summer long. You don't see Confederate Flag front license plates on luxury cars. Your next door neighbor didn't fire a SHOTGUN when the University of Kentucky won the 1998 NCAA Men's Basketball Championship.

In other words, this sort of bone-chilling cold shouldn't be part of the deal. I declare shenanigans.

-The cold weather is made somewhat tolerable by my recent discovery of the meatball sandwich at Cafe Lou Lou. The homemade bread is what sets it apart from lesser creations, and they add a roasted garlic aioli in addition to the marinara sauce. I'm getting one for lunch today. Yeah, another food obsession is just what my fat ass needs.

-Why does ESPN pretend that people care about hockey?

-I've been hearing some sanctimonious "He had everything and blew it" talk regarding Heath Ledger. Yes, he made a fatal mistake and took too many sleeping pills. But who among us has ever been outrageously shit faced drunk to the point of not remembering everything the next day? I have been. All of us who have been that drunk have come close to fatal alcohol poisoning. In a way, we're lucky to be alive. Binge drinking doesn't have the moral high ground over popping pills.

The Evil of Two Lessers

My brother, better known to readers as this blog's token Republican, Vast Right Wing Conspirator, said it best: "The fucking Super Bowl will officially be the single largest gathering of arrogant douchebags the planet has ever known."

One might argue that "...the single largest gathering of arrogant douchebags the planet has ever known" will occur this September when the Republican National Convention comes to Minneapolis. But hey, I'd rather light a candle than curse your darkness. I'm a uniter today, my friends.

I think most of us can agree that Giants fans and Patriots fans are obnoxious fuck-pouches. Add to the mix Eli "Roger Clinton" Manning and the entire cheating, sore-winner New England team, and you have a Super Bowl destined to annoy the Christ out of me.

Oh well, the Super Bowl isn't really about football; it's about food, drinks, and commercials. I have to root for someone while I'm eating nachos and drinking beer, so I'll reluctantly take the fucking Giants. God damn the Patriots and their odious pursuit of perfection for forcing me to cheer for the New York Giants. I'm reduced to hoping the Giants beat the Patriots the way Randy Moss beats his common-law wife.

Bridge Over Polluted Water

This is the John F. Kennedy bridge, one of three bridges that connect downtown Louisville to Southern Indiana. Why is a bridge in a Midwest/Southern city named after a guy with perhaps the most Yankee accent ever? I'm guessing the bridge was built in the wake of his assassination; or maybe it was named in honor of Louisville's womanizing community. Either way, it now appears that three bridges aren't enough for this sprawling metropolis. You see, lots of people from Southern Indiana come to Louisville for jobs, shopping, entertainment, medical services, and titty bars. And people from Louisville go to Southern Indiana for ....well, third-rate casino gambling and illegal fireworks.

They were talking about building new bridges way before I moved to Las Vegas. In fact, the first time I heard about the project I still had hope for the future, so it's been a long time. The years have passed and NOTHING has been done about it. There aren't even plans. The local government can't even decide whether to build another bridge downtown, build one east of downtown, or build both.

But there is hope. In a recent interview, Louisville's mayor was asked about state funding for the project. He replied: "...if the funds aren’t there, then give it a decade, maybe two, and we’ll be the bottleneck of the southeastern part of the United States."

Really? Cool! Worse than Atlanta? That is fucking awesome! This is something that could really put Louisville on the radar. We have the Kentucky Derby, but that's just another example of this shitty state riding Louisville's coattails. If these bridges don't get built, the city will stand alone as an example of traffic gridlock. Imagine this future conversation between two truckers:

"I got the Indianapolis to Nashville route next week. I am not looking forward to it."

"Why? Ain't even four hundred miles. A straight shot down I-65."

"You have to go through Louisville."

"Oh shit, that's right. Hell, that's the bottleneck of the Southeast!"

"Worse than Atlanta, somehow."

"Nothin' an extra bridge or two wouldn't fix."

You can't buy that kind of publicity.

2008: The Year of Shit?

Last week "comedian" Dane Cook broke perhaps the least significant record ever when he performed his Bizzaro World version of stand-up for over seven hours straight. Dane Cook can't come up with seven minutes of actual comedy, so this must have been pure torture.

I have a few questions:

Was the audience held captive?

Since it was a comedy club crowd and not Cook's usual audience of frat fucks and myspace Nazis, did anyone laugh EVEN ONCE?

Did Cook perform behind chicken wire so critics of spastic ramblings disguised as comedy could voice their displeasure by hurling beer bottles at him?

Does this mean 2008 is destined to go down in history as the Year of Shit? Probably.

In the wake of the man who ruined comedy comes the show that ruined popular music, American Idol; which started a new season last night. For the first couple of weeks the public gets to feel good about itself by making fun of social lepers, frighteningly delusional loners, the mentally unstable, and of course pathetic starfuckers. I can imagine this conversation taking place in trailer homes throughout America:

"Hey, look Nurleen, this boy can't sing. That is so funny that he thinks he can sing but in fact cannot. Pure hilarity."

"Yep, his parents probably told him he had talent so he wouldn't kill himself, but now that mean British fella's gonna tell him he's worthless. I'm laughing already!"

"Here we go, it's a fat girl singing about being sexy. Nothin' funnier than that, Nurleen."

"True. I'm fat, but I don't go singing about being sexy. I only leave the house to go to Wal-Mart."

Then after America gets its fill of destroying the weak, the "talent" portion begins. Ultimately, eleven Glee Club rejects and one "rocker" will sing sappy show tunes and "original" songs written for them, making the entire affair nothing more than karaoke where everyone's sober. Everyone but Paula Abdul, who'll be mainlining embalming fluid by February.

This will lead us to the biggest shitfest of the year, the 2008 Presidential Election. Get ready for a summer and fall filled with pandering, mudslinging, "swift boating", bamboozling, half-truths and outright lies.

Notice I wrote more about American Idol than I did the presidential election. That's because more people vote for American Idol.

EATING CROW...and insults for all

A few weeks ago when the Dallas Cowboys started to play absolutely horrible football, I was pretty sure they wouldn't be making the Super Bowl, but I didn't think the fucking New York Giants would beat them.

All season I've been mocking the Giants' shitty quarterback, Eli "Stephen Baldwin" Manning. So of course his team knocks the Cowboys out of the playoffs. Lousy poetic justice!

For the record, I like my crow cooked medium-rare and served with an Argentinian chimichurri sauce.

-In other less disturbing news, I've decided to add "Hitler" to my arsenal of insults. As in "That shirt looks like something Hitler would have worn," or "Your band sounds like Hitler is playing lead guitar." Try this yourself, although experts agree that "Did you just fuck me with Hitler's dick?" and "You fuck like Hitler with a hoo-hah" are simply out of bounds.

Okay, Miller Lite isn't the worst drink ever...

It's a common scenario: After a hard day's work, you go to your favorite bar and order a cold beer. After one or two sips, you realize the problem...

It isn't "clammy" enough.

The fine corporate barons at Budweiser and Clamato have fused their brains to create the answer to your prayers, Chelada. At long last, the flavors of clam, tomato, and mass-produced swill beer are brought together in a symphony of awfulness that is damn near unimaginable.

I have had horrible concoctions in my lifetime. My grandfather used to bastardize his German heritage by drinking Sterling from a can, and taking a sip as a child turned me off of the beverage for years. In college, I shared Raspberry Ripple with a co-ed, neither of which tasted very good, as it turned out.

Then of course, there are my patented Bourbon and Kaopectate smoothies, but they serve a medicinal purpose.

Congratulations, makers of shit, for solving a problem that didn't exist.

Who will save us?

This may come as a surprise to some of you, but I'm a Democrat. I know....Shocking, huh? I've been a Democrat for my entire voting life. In fact, in high school I tormented a poor conservative girl by singing the following song, to the tune of The Farmer in the Dell:

Abortion on demand

Abortion on demand

Hi-ho, The derry-o

Abortion on demand.

Mean? Yeah, but she just wouldn't shut up about Ronald Fucking Reagan.

So, where was I? Oh yeah... I'm not super-duper-let's-masturbate-joyfully thrilled about our current crop of candidates. The more I hear Obama talk, the more I hear the political equivalent of an Amway spiel. Perhaps that's because he's trying to bring a message of hope and I, as a cynical bastard, am not receptive to said message. I would still support Obama or Hillary against any Republican. Hell, I'd support a velvet painting of John Wayne Gacy if it ran against Giuliani. But just for the hell of it, let's look at a few other potential candidates.

Al Gore
It's an obvious choice since he was actually elected president in 2000. Yes, the past is a creepy uncle who touched Al Gore in all the wrong places, and I'm sure he'd like to make things right. And you just know this guy hates the Clintons. I liked Bill Clinton as President, but can you imagine standing in his doughy* shadow for eight years? "Al, quit reading the latest issue of Obscure Technology Monthly and fetch Willie Jeff another brewski. You're killin' my buzz, Fredo."

If I was Gore I'd drive a Toyota Prius through the back wall of the Democratic National Convention and get out of the car wearing nothing but my Nobel Prize and a noticeable erection. I'd walk up to the nearest microphone and proclaim "Monica blew me, too. I was just smart enough to have her dress cleaned." Hello, nomination!

Michael Dukakis
Michael Dukakis, the ineffectual east coast liberal who lost forty states in 1988? The one and same! I voted for "the Duke" back in the day, but then again I've always been ahead of the times. The people weren't ready for a swarthy, dwarf-like president then, but I think they are now.
CONFESSION: I just checked wikipedia to make sure Michael Dukakis is still alive. And he is! The campaign can proceed.

Vivica A. Fox
She was hot in Kill Bill and funny in Curb Your Enthusiasm. If voters can support an unqualified candidate because "He's someone I'd like to drink a beer with" then I can support Vivica for having a great ass.

Judd Apatow
If Mitt Romney had written and directed Superbad, I'm going to go out on a limb and say it wouldn't have been as funny. Sample dialogue from Mitt's version:

"It's our last night before we go on separate Mormon missions. What shall we do?"

"Let's invite the gang over for cherry sodas and fondue!"

"Swell!"

Bill Clinton wearing an obviously phony moustache disguise
"Hey, fellow Americans, I'm uh, Bob...Bob Smith, yeah," Bill Clinton would say as his cheap Wal-Mart Halloween Department 'stache started to fall off. "Vote for me and I have the feeling I'll bring about eight years of peace and prosperity."

Sean Hannity would be on the air immediately, fuming humorlessly.

Sean: "This Bob Smith character is obviously Bill Clinton."

Guest: "Well, no shit Sean. His 'disguise' cost 99 cents. Please for the love of all that is good and decent, kill yourself."

Well, whoever is nominated, I'm sure the campaign will have absolutely nothing to do with real issues and everything to do with a bunch of manufactured bullshit. Don't forget to vote.


*I'm actually doughier than Clinton.

How "Too Late" is Now?

When I was younger I had a massive crush on this girl, better known as the chick in the Smiths' "How Soon is Now?" video. After all, she looked really good in that hat and was in a Smiths video. What more could I ask for?

She was also representative of the type of woman who remained completely unattainable to me. The alternachicks claimed to be attracted to dorks, but I was a different kind of dork; a fat dork who wasn't in a band and looked really bad in hats.

Okay, about two years ago I briefly blogged about Sarah Thegirlwhoruinedmylife, and she had some "could have been in a Smiths' video" qualities about her, but she ruined my life, so she doesn't count.

My quest for a "How Soon is Now?" girl continues, and at my advanced age, that's just sad. Society says I should be looking for a woman to give birth to the children I don't want; someone to support in her career while she supports the career I don't have, so one day we can buy a house in the suburbs, which I hate. I just want a lady who'll drink bourbon with me and owns at least one Belly CD (How she looks in a hat just isn't that important to me anymore).

Growing older alone is a vicious kick to the groin. I'd kick back, but I'm afraid I'd hurt my hip.

How I Spent My Saturday

Saturday afternoon I watched my beloved University of Louisville Cardinals play the hated University of Kentucky Wildcats in a not-always-friendly game of basketball. There were times when the ineptitude of both teams reminded me of the "Cripple Fight" episode of South Park, when Timmy and Jimmy fought each other bloody.

In the end though, Louisville was the less sucky team and won the game. There was much rejoicing (yay).

After a post-game feast of pizza and beer, I went home and got ready for work. Yes, it was inventory time at the store, so I spent the late night counting things. Since counting things is a universal method of sleep inducement, it was a struggle to stay awake. I'm surprised people don't just fall asleep in the aisles.

My plans for Sunday are to sleep, watch football, and eat leftover pizza. Is there any stopping my runaway ambition? I'm like a 21st century Gordon Gecko over here.

The Obvious Post

I was going to say that these guys like to hang around together, but that would be too obvious, wouldn't it?

Ah, fuck it...today I'll embrace the obvious with another tired New Year's Resolution post.

Since I fail miserably to make even modest changes for the better in my life, I'm going to go ahead and make IMPOSSIBLE resolutions. Why not dream big?

-Last year I pledged to lose weight. Instead, I gained the flab equivalent of a midget. So for 2008, I resolve to have abs of steel by mid-year. In six short months I'll have a washboard stomach. No, really. And I'm not going to give up my lousy eating habits or sedentary lifestyle. In fact, I'm going to drink more beer. Cheers!

-I didn't manage to find a good job last year, so this year I'm going to become a millionaire. How? Details are for suckers.

-Ok, I did have sex in 2007, and the world didn't end as I predicted it would if I ever again saw a vagina. However, there wasn't nearly enough of it. I'm setting a goal of banging fifty different women in 2008. Yes smart asses, with their full consent! After all, I'll be in shape and rich, right?

-I'm tired of this whole "disease thing" so I'll be working on some cures in my spare time.

-I resolve to drink a delicious artisanal beer from Dane Cook's skull.

That's enough for now. I want to save a little fabulousness for everyone else.

The most satisfying beer ever

On New Year's Eve, I worked at the store from 9am-6pm. I'd say it was a zoo, but zoos have a more pleasant smell and less screeching from knuckle-dragging apes. I was meeting friends for dinner at 7, so I left work and drove to the restaurant's parking lot.

A coworker had given me a bottle of Fat Tire (not available in Louisville) that he brought back from St. Louis, so I sat in my car and enjoyed the beer. But most enjoyable of all was the silence, the sanity-restoring lack of noise. For the past month I've been pummeled by the sounds of stupidity. I've had a lifetime's supply of cranky old men, weaselly underage douchebags, keg-sucking fratfucks, young women who get mad when they're asked for ID, old women who get mad when they aren't asked for ID, vagrants who smell of meth fumes and regret, pushy type-A's who sigh dramatically if one person is ahead of them in line, unsupervised children, and crazy ass motherfuckers. It was a nonstop din of humanity's lesser lights.

God damn, did I enjoy drinking that beer without having to hear anyone flap his or her pud pleasers. Without that time by myself, I don't think I would have enjoyed the rest of the evening nearly as much.

I hope everyone has a great 2008. Unless you plan on running for president on the Republican ticket, in which case I hope your 2008 is a series of failures that eventually leads to your public suicide.