I watched the The Walking Dead premiere yesterday (it was unreal) and then spent the rest of the night wondering if I had it in me to shoot friends or family members if they turned zombie on me. Like if AJ turned zombie, I could totally shoot him in the face and not hesitate. That wouldn't be a problem. But the wife? One of the kids? I don't think I could do it. I think I'd completely break down and let the kid come claw open my intestines and go to town. Now, your letters:
What's the statute of limitations for someone still being pissed off at you about something, yet remaining your friend? Two years ago I was watching football with my buddy and his girlfriend of 3 years. There was an ad for cheerleader try-outs and I casually suggested she try out for the team seeing how she had been on the dance team college. She said she hadn't ever really thought about it, but it sounded fun. My buddy wasn't thrilled with the idea, but didn't want to seem like an overbearing a-hole so he encouraged her to do it thinking she didn't have a chance.
She tried out and ended up making the team. My buddy kind of liked telling people about it, so it turned out to not be a big deal. That is, until the cheerleaders went on a USO tour overseas at Christmas. A few days into the trip my friend gets an email from his GF saying that she had fallen in love with "someone who works for the organization" and that she was ending things. My buddy was devastated and we assumed it was some high-ranking guy with a ton of cash, which we decided was shitty but understandable.
However, she really twisted the knife when my friend got word the guy wasn't some exec within the franchise, but rather the team's mascot. My buddy then missed out on seeing our team win the Super Bowl (she got free tickets) that season and she married the mascot later that year.
We are still friends and hang out. But he will usually find a way to insert a condescending remark like "I hope this works out better than when you suggested my should-be wife try out to be a cheerleader" or something along those lines. I've bitten my tongue because I do feel partly responsible, but isn't 2 years enough time to let it go? And if it isn't, why is he still my friend?
Jesus, that's both awful AND hilarious. I think you need to sit down with him and ask him, with all sincerity, to stop badgering you about it. Your intentions were pure. How could you have known your friend's girl would end up dumping him for the Fireman Ed? I'd also apologize, even if you feel you've done nothing wrong. Men tend to listen to one another when the whole facade of shit-giving is lowered and actual seriousness is deployed.
When I was in college, I was in a cab with a friend of mine. Between us sat this very attractive girl we both wanted to have sex with. At some point during the ride, I teased my friend about something that had happened to him the year before. I can't even mention the incident, because he'd get pissed again about it 16 years later. In fact, he'll probably get pissed that I've mentioned it in vague terms here. Anyway, I did this SPECIFICALLY to get an edge with this girl, which makes me a complete douchebag and I'm already well aware of this. He got super-pissed at me bringing it up and I had to apologize profusely.
Anyway, last summer we were hanging out at a beach and, piss drunk, I brought this story up again with my friend around. Not the actual incident, but the cab incident where he got pissed at me for bringing it up. And I brought it up specifically as an example of doing something I really regretted. And then he got super-pissed at me for bringing THAT up. And then I got pissed because he got pissed, and then it was just a whole orgy of pissiness.
The point is, everyone has their tender spots. You always gotta tread lightly around the tender spots, whether or not you think they're rational or not. That's just part of being friends. Which is why, if you want to be my friend, you NEVER bring up my ass pimples. I CAN'T HELP THEM, YOU MONSTER.
How much money would it take to get 8 players to throw the series like the 1919 Black Sox scandal? They only made a small fraction of the amount players make today, but I have to imagine there is a number out there, maybe 125 million per player, or a billion for the 8 players. So can it be done and for how much would you need to scrape together for the players?
It can't be done. Not realistically. Even if someone had the cash (let's say a billion per player) to get every player to consider the offer, he'd still have to get those players to throw the Series without anyone blabbing about it to anyone else, which is an impossibility. Throw in the fact that you risk asking some righteous Jesus freak player to throw it and having him go immediately to the cops with what he knows and the idea becomes even less likely. This makes me sad, because it would have totally made the World Series cooler if I found out that Josh Hamilton took a dive for meth money.
The only clear way to rig a sporting event now to get to one official. Players are too well paid and too stupid. You'd have to find some ump and bribe him into making the strike zone for one team the size of a very large Pacific island. Like Eric Gregg did for Florida back in 1997. I bet that fat fuck got a lifetime supply of Blockbuster video rentals and Cookie Dough Bites for throwing that Series.
I thought I understood a little bit about Connecticut Halloween parties before I saw this. Now I understand nothing.
Sweet Jesus. I'm baffled. I don't understand why a perfectly good Mario costume has to be turned into a racist black Mario costume. Can't Mario already jump high enough? THASS RAYCESS!!!
I recently finished "War and Peace". After seeing a picture of you (still fat), for some reason I cannot explain, Pierre became a composite of you and Rainn Wilson. I could not shake it. 1,200 pages of, more or less, your face. Assigning faces to characters in books seems out of my control. Sometimes, I end up reading a book that I love and the whole time the main character is John Cusack or Jeremy Piven. My brain does a casting call and then I am stuck with it.
Piven? Oof. It would really suck ass to read Motherless Brooklyn and have that asshole invade your headmovie of the whole enterprise.
The first thing I do when reading any book is picture myself as the main character, especially if the main character has lots of sex and kills lots of people. Otherwise, I spend an inordinate amount of time casting (and blocking!) the entire book as a movie. It's not even a book. It's clearly just a blueprint for my Oscar-winning directorial debut (produced by Robert Evans). For example, I read those Stieg Larsson books and pictured Blomkvist as Stellan Skarsgard, because he's the only Scandinavian person I've heard of and, for all I know, is president of all four Scandinavian countries and rules those countries with an iron fist. You can't make a movie with any kind of Swedish element and NOT include Stellan Skarsgard. Which is why he's totally in the US version of the Dragon Tattoo movie. When you want Swedish folk done right, you go Skarsgard.
Can anyone explain what it is about Soccer that attracts the most beautiful women on the planet? If you can mince down the field and put that lame ball past that semi-retarded goalie, you have a chance of landing Danielle Lloyd, Michelle Marsh, Gemma Atkinson, or Cheryl Tweedy. What gives? Where is the justice??
It's obvious. Soccer players get great trim because they're normal-sized men. Women don't want to date a guy who's 7 feet tall like an NBA player, or 300 pounds like an NFL player. They want men who don't look like they're going to grab their ponytail and snap their fucking head off once they hit the boudoir. A pro soccer player has the benefit of being a pro athlete, coupled with the size and accessibility of a regular man. Plus, they don't chew tobacco or wear stupid rope necklaces (like baseball players), and they aren't retarded Canadians like most hockey players. That's SCIENCE.
I lost my Chapstick at a party but found one — the same type I'd lost — at the end of the night on a coffee table. Not sure if it's mine or not, though. Should I give it a home or suck it up and just buy a new one?
Wipe it on your hand, then use liberally.
Have you ever been typing so fast that you don't take your finger off the "Shift" key in time and end up with the first two letters of words capitalized by accident?? I'm a really fast typer and this happens to me all the time. The first word of this E-Mail was originally "HAve." I didn't notice it until just now. Almost made me put my stapler thru the wall.
Well, considering that I type in all caps 96% of the time, it's a given that I would run into a similar problem. It's gotten to the point where, if I see in an email that I've FUcked up in a similar manner, I'll just leave it and send the email that way. People will get the gist.
I got a new keyboard the other day, and the CAPS LOCK key on it is a little bit sticky. Sometimes, it doesn't actually register that I've pushed it, so I'll type out a sentence I wanted to be in all caps and it'll turn out to be in lower case, which means that my apple keyboard is clearly trying to send me a message. YOU FUCKING EAT SHIT, KEYBOARD.
By the way, I know writing in all caps is BAD and evil and shit, and that real serious writer types frown upon it. But those people fail to understand that writing in all caps WORKS. You can emphasize the PRECISE words you want to emphasize, much more so than italics do. They can make the words on the page sound exactly as I say them in my head. Especially FUCK. FUCK looks great in all caps. And if that causes Harold Bloom's head to fucking explode, then all the better. Imagine if Zodiac Motherfucker never used all caps. The world would be a much poorer place, people. All caps deserve more respect. NOW EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO AND ENJOY A FINE CHEEZ DOODLE AT THIS JUNCTURE.
Dave the Body:
They pay $30/year to have this. So stupid. Figures it's on a BMW.
It should say CAR.
I just switched my kids to a new preschool that requires us to pack a lunch for them each day. First of all... packing lunches is fucking terrible. It ruins my morning every day. As I'm packing their stupid lunches (and morning and afternoon snacks) I get more and more furious knowing that they probably won't even eat the shit I pack them.
Preach on, brother. Preach on. FACT: Children do not eat. Know why kids in Africa are starving? Because they're spoiled little twats that refuse to eat the delicious free gruel the Unicef has provided for them. My wife and I have made countless meals for our kids, and when those kids refuse to even TRY that meal, I want to smash them in the face with a pint glass. They'll even refuse to eat food they explicitly ASKED for. They ask for soup. I make the soup. I serve the soup. They say I DON'T WANT SOUP. That isn't what you said five minutes ago, you inconsistent little shit! YOU LED ME ON! And then I just want to dunk the kid's head in chicken noodle and hold it there until I no longer have to feed them again.
My kids eat lots of cheese toast for lunch. This is bread you put sliced cheese on and then place in the toaster oven. This seems like a simple thing to make, yet it takes fucking years. You have to strategically arrange the cheese on the bread so it covers the whole surface, but doesn't drip over the side, onto the bottom of the oven. Then you have to toast it, and that takes forever with the kid sitting there screaming for it. And I don't even get to eat it. Feeding kids BLOWS.
Our man goes on:
My kids are allergic to peanuts, so they always want cream cheese and jelly sandwiches for lunch. Until I had kids I don't think I had spread jelly on a sandwich since I was ten years old (because jelly fucking sucks). Have you spread jelly on a sandwich lately? It is like trying shave off your own neck hair... it's impossible. Jelly never smoothes out. It's always lumpy. The more I spread and apply pressure to try to get the lumps out... the worse it gets. In the end my kids get a smooshed sandwich with jelly bleeding through the decimated bread. Every morning as I disgustedly toss the sandwich in a tiny plastic bag I mutter "fuck you jelly" and go about my miserable day.
You need to buy jam. Jam tastes better, and it spreads evenly, save for the occasional entire strawberry lump, which can easily be eaten by you, the sandwich-maker. Jelly is awful. I don't even know why they make it anymore. It's a complete waste of time, and you need the balancing power of Philippe Petit just to keep it on your knife. I also assume that jelly can become reanimated at any moment, grow to 1,000 times its size, and eat me. But perhaps that's a bit irrational on my part.
When waiting in a line, I always seem to encounter ambiguous line-standers. These are people who look like they may be in line, but are either off to the side a little too much or have let a gap open between themselves and the next person. Then, when you decide to go ahead of them to fill the gap, they get all pissy about it.
I hate those people. Worst of all, their ambiguous position forces you to ask them if they're in line or not. Bad enough I can't figure it out on my own, but now I have to actually go and initiate a conversation with some strange asshole just to get confirmation. It's like people in the parking garage who spend 90 minutes sitting in a running car, and you can't figure out if they're coming or going, so you have to roll down your window and ask. Who the fuck just sits around in a parking garage for no reason? HAVE YOU NO PLACE TO FUCKING GO, ASSHOLE?
Hey Drew, my friend just adopted this puppy. As you can tell, he possesses a priceless white marking on his chest. I was hoping Deadspinners might help out in naming this fella…
You heard the man. I vote for Snoop Dong.
A random thought jumped into my head today while I was taking my afternoon constitutional on the shitter. They recently remodeled our bathrooms and the bowl is much shallower than usual. And I'm looking at the bowl between my legs, which means I'm looking at my dick. I'm an average-sized man but if you're one of those super-dicked guys in a porn, what do you do with your flaccid friend when you're taking a shit? Does it just swing there like a pendulum or even dip into the bowl? Or do you try and flop it up over the rim of the toilet, which is no doubt disgusting? Maybe they just have to hold onto it or something. What do you think?
If you're Peter North? Don't you just have a fluffer give you a blumpkin while you do it? In all seriousness, I think a big-dicked guy probably takes a piss in the toilet BEFORE sitting on the pot, and then either lets his dick loll around on the toilet seat (if he's shitting on his home toilet) or holds it up to prevent dipping (if he's sitting on a public toilet). Nobody's gonna let it hang in the water, obviously. And I don't know that you could flop your cock up and have it rest on your leg. I dunno that it would stay there. Let me just unfurl my gigantic manslug and see how low it goes.
Have you ever given your two weeks notice at a job and then felt invincible? Well, I have. I recently gave my notice and it has been the best two weeks of my life. No more worries about being yelled at by the dumb boss or even dumber manager. I come and go as I please and I feel like I'm walking on air. I still do my work, when I feel like it, but I know they won't fire me because they need to find a replacement for my position.
It's even better when you're talking with them about something and they forget you're leaving and they start talking about some big, horrible project everyone is going to have to spend hours and hours on and you get to cut them off by saying, "Yes, but I won't be here." That's a great feeling. YOU ARE ON YOUR FUCKING OWN, BOSSMAN. MWAHAHAHAHA. It's the same thing if you have a vacation coming up and you work somewhere that doesn't demand you do work while on vacation. It's great to just sit there and say, "I dunno how you're all gonna handle this shit, but it's not my problem. I SHALL BE IN SUNNY COZUMEL."
The flipside of this, of course, is that EVERYONE at the office hates the guy who is about to go on vacation or is about to go to some other job. You're going on vacation next week? YOU PRICK!
My consumption of McDonald's would expand unfathomably if they offered breakfast all day. I would go at least once a week for lunch/dinner/late night easily, and probably more if not for the shame I would feel. How is it that not a single person in that massive company has realized this and used the idea as their fast track to the top?
Follow up observation: The anger McD's employees outwardly show when you either attempt to order a burger/fries prior to 10:30a or an Egg McMuffin/hash brown post 10:30a is wildly disproportionate to the request.
McDonald's doesn't serve breakfast all day because it's cheaper to keep the menu restricted to day parts, so that employees don't have to fry up fries and hash browns simultaneously, or what have you. Why is this cheaper? I don't know. The fuck I look like, a businessperson? I'm just a guy who likes room temperature sausage patties.
Breakfast is my favorite part of the McDonald's menu, so not having access to it at all hours of the day seems grossly unfair (though perhaps life-saving, when you think of the potential). I could eat 786 hash browns without any problem at all, and I've never had a hash brown I like more, anywhere in the world. The real bitch of it is that McDonald's once considered doing breakfast all day back in 2006 and never followed through. Which is such a huge cocktease. WHY MUST YOU DEPRIVE ME OF HASH BROWNS AT 4PM, YOU HORRIBLE PEOPLE?
A conflict breaks out between the United States and some other country, but one of the rules of war was that all active and non active members of the military service can not in any way participate in battle. This battle would be fought with citizens only, guerilla style, no air or naval battles.
Do you think the United States would still win with our expert outdoorsmen who love shooting animals and our bangers on the street corners who pack heat? Or would we lose to some small African nation where kids learn how to shoot semi autos before they can walk?
We'd get destroyed. We'd get our asses kicked all over the place. Hell, I just wrote a whole post yesterday bitching about insurance money and my life is a damn cakewalk. I'm a walking gash. You're telling me I'd have to fight in a real war, and spend nights sleeping outdoors? With no chopper support? We'd get fucking annihilated. Little Qin Lao from Thailand would have me killed and cleaned within seconds. Remember: We're the generation that killed rock and roll. This group of young American men that stands before you today can barely open a can of soup without breaking down into a teary-eyed moment of self-reflection. WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?!
By the way, I get a kick out of historians who try and brand a past or current war as "World War III" and failing. I saw a dude who wrote a book explaining that the Cold War was World War III. I saw another dude who wrote a book about how the War On Terror was World War III. You know damn well both those guys were praying that it would stick, so that they could go down as the dudes who decided which war was officially World War III.
I think there should be a War Naming Council. I think the War on Terror is a lousy name for a war. Shit, it hasn't even really stuck. We don't even call the Afghanistan war anything. We're just like, "Hey, we're fighting in Afghanistan!" If we had a proper group of historians and focus group experts, we could really help the cause by coming up with a name that everyone could get behind. THE WAR OF A THOUSAND NIGHTS, or something like that. Real old school.
I remember, right after 9/11 happened, there were a lot of people trying to name the event. Someone definitely tried to call it "the Attack on America," which is such a generic name for it that I'm surprised it isn't already the name of a prime time show on NBC. I bet that guy is super-pissed that 9/11 won out.
Time for the email of the week. Your winner is Bill, who wins a Book to Be Named Later. Bill, email the tipline for your prize and shit. And now, A GREAT MOMENT IN HEAD DISSECTION.
I was in the 6th grade and we were dissecting cow hearts, pretty standard in some science classes, but living in a town of avid hunters we also had access to a deer's head which my friends and I gladly volunteer to dissect. Keep in mind the head was quite fresh and not preserved or prepared for dissection in any way.
Because we were about 12 years old and at the height of our immaturity, we mutilated this thing and horrified the entire class in the process. I remember scooping the brain out with a spoon, gouging out eyeballs, and pulling teeth out with pliers while our teacher was trying to hold in his laughter. (Fun Fact: When a deer brain is left in the sun it melts.) When we were finished our teacher told us to clean up and since we didn't know what to do, we took everything to the bathroom and flushed it down the toilet. It looked liked a murder scene. I imagine that this is how Jeffery Dahmer got started.
I bet it was.