Classifying the Human Parent

Fortunately for me, I've been blessed with two fucking beautiful and healthy kids (insert a knock on wood here).  As much as sometimes being a dad can be a royal pain in the ass and occasionally the scrotum, I'm pretty lucky to have experienced this part of life.  There are just so many amazing and cool things that happen as a parent that you could never really expect or anticipate, for instance:  getting pissed on when changing a diaper, tasting someone else's vomit, or determining that the horrible smell in the kitchen was in fact caused by a shit that your kid took in the garbage, and uh...oh ya, watching them take their first steps or score a hat trick in hockey.

I could go on and on with positives about being a Dad...but there is one major fucking negative - DEALING WTH OTHER PARENTS.  You see, there seems to be some sort of metamorphosis that occurs with the human parent upon the birth of their first child.  What once may have been a regular/semi-cool individual turns into a complete and utter waste of skin jackass.  Instead of thinking about drinking beer and getting pussy, their mind turns to strollers, the "kids schedule", and baby bottles.  Their comedic material turns from the dirty trucker variety to kid friendly jokes without "swear words".  They become fascinated with yogurt and things that are gluten free.  Its fucking depressing really and I'm only now describing the honeymoon phase that occurs before you realize that your kids are actually fucking assholes (aren't we all) that are born only to cause you undue stress and several thousands of dollars spent on psychotherapy.

The point is, kids fucking change people.  Once you have them, you become something or someone else.  You must assimilate into one of the common parenting groups or classes, or find yourself on the fringes like that bitch Sophie with the 6 toes.

Let's visit this Louis CK video clip on parenting before we move further, shall we:

This all brings me to publishing what is certain to become the new classification system for labelling the human parent.  Surely, some more legitimate/scholarly institution will contact me for the rights to this shit...  Here we go with the various types of human parents:

• The Coach - this is the guy, or soccer/rowing lesbian mother that takes on the role of being the coach of everything. I think they wear a whistle around their neck in the shower for Christ's sakes.  Their kid will feel so much pressure when it comes to performing in sports that they'll quit playing before realizing how good they could actually be.  You'll know good old "coach dad/mom" by their propensity to wear team colours or branded clothing...as illustrated below:

• The Teacher/Nerd - this parent, whether they are a teacher by trade or not, insists upon frequent educational opportunities for their children.  Weekend visits to the museums, studying bugs in the grass, building paper mache volcanoes...you name it.  They'll constantly remind you of what you are doing wrong with your kids and laugh at you behind your back.  Little do they know that you are going to get the last laugh when you kid kicks the shit out of their kid in middle school (haha mothafucka).  These people are raising a new generation of nerd.

• The Serial Killer - You'll know this parent exists in your neighbourhood when you witness any of the following (if you do, please call your local block parent):
• Their children never make eye contact
• All the blinds in their house are drawn
• They have a basement that is off-limits to guests or children
• They carry dark coloured bags with what appears to be human remains out of their house late a night when they think you aren't looking at them through your telescope...

• The Addict - the addict parent is probably the calmest of all...reason being, they are either drunk or highly medicated.  If you want to sniff out an addict parent, watch for frequent visits to the beer/liquor store and/or periodic visits from asian guys with pimped out Honda Civics.  The child of the addict is destined to be your kids future drug dealer, like this fucking Indonesian kid right here...

• The Do It Yourselfer - I hate this fucking guy, mostly cause I'm jealous I can't do anything myself.  I can't even build IKEA furniture without punching a hole in the wall.  The do it yourself parent is obsessed with The Learning Chanel and trips to Home Depot, Lowes, or Rona (if he is Canadian).  He is prone to jerking off with a tool belt still attached to his cock and balls, just in case he need and Allen Key to finish things up.  Anyway, watch for any of the following actions...
• Paves his own driveway
• Trims his grass with scissors so it looks cleaner
• Installs his own granite countertops
• Re-shingles his roof while singing show tunes from Annie (ok, this is really mean and I'm sorry...BUT...he posted it).

• The Cool Guy/Girl - this parent is still stuck in their University/College persona.  If they are a dude, they are likely 40 plus, still have spiky hair, wax their car in their driveway with no shirt on, and smoke weed with their kids.  You'll probably actually like the kids of this parent, as they'll swear, drink, and probably be closer to an adult in terms of maturity than a child.  Worst case, they'll repeat the shit that the parent says around the house, like the girl in the video below.  As your child enters his/her teen years, you can expect that most of the parties will occur at the home of this parent.  

• The Block Parent - this parent should just sleep in their reflection vest.  They are constantly on the lookout for danger and have taken the responsibility to alert you of said dangers (especially if you break the 50km/hr barrier while driving).  You can spot them late a night walking around the neighbourhood with a flash light and some measuring tape.  They probably routinely stop by your home with some rogue request for money to raise funds for some pathetic charitable organization they have aligned with.  Fuck you block parent.

• The Host(s) - every significant event is greeted with an invitation to a party at the house of the "host parent".  The "Spring Fling", the "Summer BBQ", the "Fall Festival", and the "Annual XMAS" party(s) will all happen at the house of "the host".  Usually, the host couple are swingers and they are actually using this as an opportunity to gauge their neighbours interest in fucking one or both of them.  Watch out for the invite for a hot tub soak... 

• The Stalker - this is the parent that never should have had kids.  Seemingly, this parent lurks in the shadows and waits for you and your kids to get home each day.  Every conversation with this guy/girl ends up in you feeling like you need to move away and lock up your kids.  When his/her kids come over to play, they strongly resist the idea of leaving and going home.  They will likely cling to your leg like a leach at the beach.  Ultimately, if you live around this fuck, you will put your home up for sale and relocate, OR you'll shoot this person.

• The Cheater - this is the guy/girl that hates their life.  Their marriage has been destroyed by the pressure of being together, having kids, or perhaps just getting together in the first place.  Everyone knows they are off banging others, except for the partner and the kids. Be nice to this fuck, it could happen to you.  Word to the wise though, if you do decide to hunt down your partner on the suspicion of cheating, bring a teddy bear and a barf bag...

All of this highlights one key message for all of you - STAY THE FUCK OUTTA THE SUBURBS.  You are probably safer in prison than you are around this assortment of fuck balls.

As you were.

The Ass Tampon - A New Invention

If you just read that title, you are probably already creating mental images of some mammoth pig shoving her tampon up her vassgina (vassgina - when there is no clear definition between the vaginal entry point and the anus, one refers to the general area as a vassgina).  If that's true, I feel sorry for you because I just pictured it and I vomited baby back ribs on my exquisite leather couch.  Easy clean up, but overly meaty for this time of night.

Anyway, much like Thomas Edison when he invented the light bulb, something weird happened to me a few months ago.  No, I wasn't running around naked in a corn field somewhere in the southern United States...and no, I wasn't suddenly abducted by aliens and renamed Guardian.  The truth is that I went to Mexico for fun and skanky whore sex and came home with a weight loss secret that would make the founder of Weight Watchers jealous.  What is it?  I'm still not sure...frankly, I'm not even sure if there is name for it, unless "reverse diarrhea" is already trademarked. 

Before you report me to the local authorities, this is not sexually transmitted.  It is much worse.  I believe that I contracted whatever this is from the resort buffet, and not the 250 pounder that I shamefully woke up beside a few weeks back.  What are the symptoms you might ask?  Well, the symptoms can be summed up in 3 words: blood, pain, general dizziness.  Fuck me, I'm starting to sound like some asshole from a Preparation H commercial except I haven't said "itching" yet? 

Anyway, without getting too specific, this "illness" has lead me to a profound discovery, which will be coming to a novelty store near you in the very near future.  That discovery is known only as "The Ass Tampon".  The Ass Tampon is as basic as it sounds.  It is a genetically altered vaginal tampon used to stop massive bleeding or hemorrhaging from the anal cavity.  How disgusting you might say???...well just watch this infomercial that I've recently completed with a few of my 12 year old friends.  It will surely change your mind...

Some may think that this is just a novelty market, but it isn't.  I've actually conducted extensive research into the utility of this product and have found that there are three key money making opportunities here:  1) As a gift,  making fun of friends with fissures, hemorrhoids, or general ass issues, 2) Ass therapy for people that like ass sex, 3) Bridging the gap for people that actually have period like bleeding when they crap.  I'm already in several pharmacies across North America and sales are really taking off.

Anyway, I'm quite excited by the prospect of great riches from this new invention and I invite you to share in my happiness.  I'll be launching some preferred share options in the Ass Tampon Corporation in the next few weeks, so talk to your broker now and get your house in order.

Leave Your Leftovers At Home Asshole - Office Lunch Etiquette

Much like Jesus Christ, I have risen from the ashes of an intensely difficult period of my life.  Rather than being nailed to the cross by a bunch of heathenous cunts, I've been working with a gun to my head, cock, and asshole.  I figured Easter(ish) was a good time to launch the resurrection of this blog.  Strangely, more people have been reading this while I've been dead.  This must be how Kurt Cobain feels...wait...
 

Well fuck you too then Jesus...

Anyway, I've been doing my best to keep track of various topics that I think will make for some good material when I find myself with some free time to chug some Creemore and spew out garbage.  I thought I'd get started with something that has really been pissing me off lately... "The Office Leftover Lunch".  Every office has a slew of cheap assholes that think they are going to be the next Donald Trump by avoiding the $10 per day take out lunch.  I got news for you, the $2,500 you save by not buying lunch everyday is an investment in your sanity.  Eating at your desk is both bad for your health and generally disgusting.  Some do this for legitimate dietary or religious reasons, and I respect that. But others (you know who you are) really take it to the extreme.  Here is an example of what I'm referring to:

Look, I have no problem with people bringing any non-fish related sandwich or salad to work, but I take extreme issue with anything that has to be microwaved and/or eaten with a fork and knife.  What gives you the right to bring your stink into the office?  Would you be happy if I sauntered into your cubicle and took a dump on your lap?  99% of toilets agree that you wouldn't.  But, you keep on going, heating up some sort of jambalaya made of garbage that you and your likely fat wife concocted the night before.  I think Fat Bastard said it best (somewhere around the 1:12 minute mark of this clip)...

Knowing how utterly stupid the vast majority of humanity is, I thought I'd make a short list of things you should avoid consuming and/or heating up in the office.  You'll thank me later when you actually get promoted into a better position versus being a labelled "stinky".

1. Anything Fishy - if we wanted to smell fish at the office, we'd be eating out our secretaries on our desk like Don Draper from Mad Men.  Hmmm...not a bad idea...
2. Anything Mexican - nobody really needs to hear you contracting a bad case of Montezuma's revenge, so leave the leftover burritos at home asshole.
3. Curried Anything - self explanatory.  Anyone who has happened to find themselves in the home of an East Indian family the morning after getting blackout drunk, knows exactly what I'm talking about.  Nothing induces vomit quite like a bulk bin of curry asshole.
4. Old Cheese - if it was OK to have the smell of rotten hockey equipment or gym shoes floating around the office, we'd all choose comfort over style and walk around with our shoes off.  But we don't!  So shove your blue cheese, stilton, or old cheddar up your ass.
5. Microwave Dinners - I have an intense hate on for whoever came up with this concept (the genius behind Stouffer's or Michelena's).  The quality of the food is god awful to begin with, but even worse, it fucking stinks.  If you insist on being a total mutt and eating this shit, save it for it's intended use - dinner in your home while you watch Jeopardy and pretend to be smart.

So, in summary, unless you are Gordon Ramsey, Bobby Flay, or equivalent, leave your leftover dinners in the fridge or toss them into your green bin.  If you insist on continuing to bring into the office, you are a total douche and I will come for you.  I'll leave you with this horrible instructional video, as we need to keep this somewhat educational...
 

Hunting For Douchebags (d-bags)

The term douchebag (or d-bag) is tossed out quite often in this day and age.  Heck, I think I’ve used it at least 50 times throughout this blog myself.  It just feels right rolling off the tongue, pen, or through the keyboard, don’t you think?  It occurred to me recently that many of us probably don’t even really know what a douchebag actually is, other than a derogatory term used to describe your boss, co-worker, or the guy that made your sandwich today at Subway.  What's more, I don't even know how to properly spell the fucking word (is it douche bag, douche-bag, or douchebag).  So, I’m going to take it upon myself right here and right fucking now to educate the masses on a) the correct spelling of douchebag is "douchebag", b) what a douchebag actually is; and c) some good places to find them.

Section #1:  What the fuck is a douchebag?

There are so many descriptions/definitions of the term or object known as a douchebag.  I’ll get to those in a second, but want to start with my first encounter with a douchebag, which was frankly nasty.  Sometime in the mid 1990’s, my parents farmed me out to some family friends for a few weeks (I must have been around 13 or 14).  I was OK with it, since they had a relatively hot daughter and I was good friends with their son.  One day, I was showering and got some soap in my eyes.  They were burning quite intensely, so I quickly reached out for the nearest rag/cloth/non-soapy substance.  Fortunately, there was something rubbery hanging inside the shower and I was able to use it to help clear the soap out of my eyes.  When my vision cleared up, I examined the object that I had just used all over my face.  It was a puzzling object to be sure.  What sort of alien contraption is this I wondered?  Minutes later, I presented it to my friend, noting that I had applied it to my face.  Noticing the pale/sick look on his face, I asked “what, what the fuck is wrong”?  He began describing that the contraption was in fact his mothers’ douchebag, etc, etc.  After puking in my own mouth, I realized I had learned a valuable lesson…never trust what you can’t see.

So, there is the literal definition/interpretation of a douchebag (although, it should be noted that the real spelling of the image above is "douche bag").  However you spell it, not a pretty picture.  We can now definitively understand why this term is used in such a derogatory fashion to describe other individuals.  Here are a few definitions from the Urban Dictionary that will help us further understand what a “douchebag” is:

1. Someone who has passed the levels of jerk and asshole, however not yet fucker or motherfucker
2. An individual who has an over-inflated sense of self worth, compounded by a low level of intelligence, behaving ridiculously in front of colleagues with no sense of how moronic he appears
3. A person with a shitty personality that needs to "take them self the fuck down" or "go home and get their fucking shine box." A douche-bag usually assumes the form of a hair-gelling pretty-boy but can also be described as an overzealous, pompous, or vexatious asshole that most people wish were killed with a Mortal Kombat fatality.

OK - so with that out of the way, we must now focus on identifying and locating douchebags (just in case you are bored one day).

Section #2: What do they typically look like?  Where do I find one?

You really don’t have to look too far to find a true d-bag.  There are probably some in a cubicle near you right now.  However, if you are really starved for d-bag interaction OR you want to investigate this cultural group a bit further, try some of the hot spots below.  You can spot them easily by looking for the following features or actions:

• General Features
• The Belt Buckle - aside from investing in some sort of flashy belt buckle, there will be keys hanging from the belt with some sort of carabiner clip sponsored by a beer company

• The Shirt - they will be wearing one of the following shirts: a wife beater, a shirt with a popped collar, or a designer t-shirt with some sort of crazy design or eagle wings.  There is also a strong chance they will not be wearing a shirt.

• The Tatts - it appears that this person must get a volume discount a the local tattoo parlor

• Company Guy - they are proudly displaying their office security pass (either via lanyard or belt clip), claiming to be an executive with more money than god.  The reality is, they probably work the phones in customer service.

• The Technology - they are likely wearing some sort of bluetooth earpiece OR they will be showing off their recent smart phone purchase (bought with their racked up credit card).  Alternatively, there is this guy...

• The Ride & The Tunes - they are driving a car they can't afford OR they have "pimped out" their ride (think massive spoiler and loud muffler).  In case that doesn't get them enough attention, they turn to the age old trick of cranking the dance music as loud as you can with the windows down. 

• Hygiene - regular showers are for suckers right.  This guy bathes in cologne or some sort of spray he picked up at the grocery store/pharmacy

• Fake Tan or Spray Tan? - they have probably done both just prior to hitting the bar scene for the night...

That was really just the "tip of the iceberg" in terms of the general features.  To help you understand further, please see the following short video entitled "are you a douchebag":

• Hot Spots:
• Convenience stores - the d-bag is likely doing one of the following things: 1) openly doing the read and grab with a porn magazine while you walk by with your kids, 2) playing hackey sack or something similar with their friends while horking on the sidewalk, or 3) getting ready to rob you or the guy who can barely speak a word of english behind the counter. 
• Casinos or Pool Halls - these places are like magnets for the d-bag at heart.  They are drawn to a world of stupidity, gambling, and general looserish behaviour (is that a word?).  Quick, put your whole welfare cheque on black you fucking delinquent.
• Seedy Strip Clubs - when all else fails and they strike out on picking up/buying girls again, the d-bag has two options.  1) Rape someone - sadly, this happens to often as it is, or 2) Go to strip club with low standards and pay for blow job.  "Perverts row" is like the who's who of the d-bag clan.
• Wing Joints - for some reason, d-bags love eating chicken wings.  Maybe it is their lack of worldly experience or interest in the expansion of their culinary experience.  Or maybe its because they are just mutts who like to eat things off a bone (see earlier blog on my feelings re chicken wings).
• Dance Clubs - much like casinos or pool halls, d-bags are drawn to anything that gives them a chance to show off their new tattoo, t-shirt, or stolen car in the hopes that they land a little take home (lady of the night).  If they can't afford the private booth with bottle service, they are probably out on the dance floor cross checking people in the back rather than bustin' a move. 

I don't know about you, but I'm kind of warming up to this whole concept.  Wings, strippers, gambling, steroids... it sounds kind of fun.   With that, I launch my own campaign for the 2012 Douchebag of The Year Award.

The Dine & Shit

You should be able to tell by my odd sense of humor OR by the multiple references made throughout this blog, but I'll say it anyway - I am a big fan of the show Curb Your Enthusiasm.  Now, I understand that this show isn’t on the top of everyone’s “must watch” list, but that is really more a reflection of general intelligence issues across North American society (i.e. there are a lot of stupid people that need to be spoon fed jokes, like they did on the show Friends, vs. having to think/understand before they laugh).  Anyway, one thing I’ve always enjoyed about Curb is Larry David’s ability to connect two “things” or “actions” into one succinct phrase. 

For example, the Stop and Chat:

Or how about the Chat and Cut:

Anyway, the most recent episode (featuring the chat and cut) reminded me of something disgusting that I first discovered when I was a bus boy in a family restaurant at the age of 14 – The Dine and Shit (i.e. going out for a meal and taking a deuce in the restaurant/eatery bathroom).  You see, aside from my normal duties of clearing and wiping tables, polishing cutlery, or spilling water on people, I was also forced to check the bathrooms periodically to make sure all was well.  Unfortunately in many cases, all was not well.  In fact, all was very fucking wrong, especially during the Sunday brunch shift where I first encountered the dreaded dine and shit.

Who else feels sorry for poor Dennis?...

The Sunday brunch crowd at this restaurant was much like any Sunday brunch crowd you’ll find anywhere – church going families, church going old people, and those people with severe hangovers.  Our Sunday brunch crowd was nicely spiced up with the odd trucker here and there AND a couple of mentally challenged dudes from the group home up the road (Scotty 4 thumbs and Roger).  Now, mix together a crowd of potential restaurant shitters on the best of days (kids, old people, truckers, and the mentally challenged) with a jambalaya of coffee, bacon, eggs, lasagna, more coffee, French toast, fried chicken, baked beans, orange juice to cleanse the pallet, more coffee, lasagna again, some salad, and sure enough more coffee – the results can be disastrous.  So disastrous in fact, that I really don’t feel comfortable describing many of the “incidents” that occurred in both the men’s and women’s “shitters” in my 6 years as a bus boy (yes, I was too useless to get promoted to waiter status).  Let’s just say I think some assholes have more power than a pressure washer and I'm jealous of the people who got to clean up Hiroshima.

Anyway, to the point at hand, in what universe is it OK to shit where you dine?  Those with IBS or severe abdominal cramping get a free pass (you can spot them by their generally pale skin), but for those who are actually dropping fully formed logs, I take issue.  I know from experience that a regular human can retain a fully formed log for up to 3 days under the right circumstances, so don't push me on this issue (see future blog about being told to shit in a dug-out hole at Cub Scouts camp in the late 80's). 

Any facility that exists only to prepare food to sell to the masses should be exempt from public shitting, with the exception of the circumstances noted above.  The reasons should be blatantly obvious, but I’ll outline them anyway:

1.   That Age Old Theory – just like you don’t fuck where you work, you don’t shit where you eat.  Get it.

2.   The Dirty Drift – these bathrooms are not designed to encapsulate the stench (like the industrial office bathrooms that know they are going to get beaten down by shitters every day).  Inevitably, your business will drift towards another table thereby ruining their meal/experience.  Save your green apple splatter for home.  It is easier to execute on your home turf anyway.

3.   Pink Eye – you have a 150% greater chance of getting pink eye if you crap at a restaurant.  This sounds made up, but the janitor at work seriously told me this, so alas it must be true.

4.   Protecting Your Restaurant Options – once you shit at a restaurant once, you should never return to it no matter how good the actual meal was.  I can tell you from experience, the restaurant staff will brand you as a shitter from that day forward.  Your service (and food quality) will deteriorate drastically upon any future visit.  It is hard enough to find a decent meal these days, don’t ruin it with a crap that can wait until you get home.

So, let’s all work together to create a world where we are free from the oppression of those that would dare to shit where we all dine.  I have a dream… 

The Evolution of Ranking Humans

Well it's Sunday today, which means only one thing...I'm watching that show about that thing on the Discovery Channel.  It is a ritual.  Today's show has featured the evolution of mankind from the cave to the iPhone.  This reminded me of two things.  1 - just like the stockholders of RIM, I need to dump the blackberry in favour of something much cooler.  2- I should shave my caveman like beard so young families stop running away from me in the park.  Having said that, the beard does make me look more intellectual, which really only serves a purpose when I'm invited to a wine and cheese party with snobby/yuppie d-bags.  Anyway, the whole evolution thing "got me thinkin" about how humans may have in fact peaked and we are now on the wrong side of the mountain.  You just need to review the headlines each day to know that is the case (see earlier blog re “the headlines”).   Not to get to philosophical on your asses, but human beings have generally lost touch with what it means to be human.

One sure sign of our evolving disconnect between right and wrong is the transformation of how we “rank” members of the opposite sex.  A simple “she/he is hot or not” has evolved into a complicated math formula that even some of the most advanced intellects don’t understand.  What’s more, the determination of a positive ranking is based less on who you are and more on what you look like, especially if you have invested in some technological beauty enhancements.  To illustrate what I’m talking about, consider the following:

·     1950 - Men commonly referred to a girl they wanted to fuck as “swell” (as in – “did you see Mildred in art class today, she really looked swell”).  Another great word used in this era was “snazzy”.

·     1980-1999 – Words like “cute” and “hot” became more common references to describe those that we found attractive

·     2000 – The website Hot or Not was founded by two electrical engineers who graduated from Berkeley (U of California).  I can just imagine what these guys look like.  Anyway, for those out of the loop, this site allowed users to post photos of people and allow the mass populous to rate the people depicted in the photo based on their looks alone.  This helped to sway an already morally bankrupt society further into the red.

·     2005 – Words like “smokin’”, “steaming”, and “face melter” became more trendy

·     2009 – It became commonplace to use numbers instead of words to describe women.  “She is a 10 dude” or “Oh pig vomit, that bitch is like a 2”.

·     2011 – After years of research and a fake sociology degree obtained online, the Lighthouse Attendant releases a new 0-5 scale that is sure to change to face of our society…

So, in the spirit of “if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em”, here goes nothin’:

0.   The Land Monster – this “thing” invokes an instant reaction of heaving while covering your mouth.  It is not just the inevitable cottage cheese smell or cankles, but the sheer sight of it’s face makes you want to shove your head up your own ass.  It is safe to say that 3% of the population is represented in this category.  Many of them are from Smiths Falls.

1.   The Mutt – potentially a family cross bread experiment gone wrong.  They are likely somewhat over OR under weight with a blue cheese odor, coke bottle glasses, and hair that rivals a straw sun hat.  I’ll say 12% of the population falls into this category (or 80% of the 1980’s).

2.   Deception – much like that terribly overrated Leo DiCaprio film Inception, a “2” is good from a far, but far from good.  Very fuckin’ far frankly.  From the other side of the gymnasium, you could swear this girl is legitimately fuckable.  Upon further review, she looks like that gap between your asshole and your nuts…not good.  If you get drunk enough, you’ll probably be willing to take it down, but you’ll never admit it to your friends.  Sadly, 20% of the population falls into this grouping.  Curiously, many of them are from England and Asia…

3.   Even Steven – they won’t impress you, but they also won’t disappoint.  If you don’t really care about getting routine hard-ons, this is where you should settle in.  They’ll make you breakfast on the weekends, do your laundry, and generally be your slave – no questions asked.  They know you are doing them a favour.  35% of the world’s population falls into category 3.

4.   Marriage Material – Great face, better body, and smells like what I imagine “Miggs” to sense when Clarice walked by his cell in Silence of the Lambs.  She is not “too hot”, so you don’t have to worry about her cheating on you.  As an additional bonus, she is also wicked smart and likely has a better career than you do.  20% of the world’s population falls into category.

5.   Roasting/Steaming/Blazing Hot – This creature appears to be the offspring of God himself and the IBM super computer (who I imagine to be a woman for this illustration).  She is so unbelievable that you start shaking at the knees and seeing the world like Monet.  In this moment, you wish had Jesus-like powers to turn this loaf of ass into baskets of fishes…errr. 

*Note – a bonus point can be applied to anyone in the 0-4 category if they pay for certain physical enhancements, like breast implants, tummy tucks, tongue rings.  This assumes, of course, that they hired a legitimate professional to complete the work vs. Dr. Taxi Driver working out of some back alley in china town.

Watch for the new lighthouse attendant rating scale website, where I simply plan to copy “hot or not” and collect advertising fees for banner ads and eventually pre-roles for the video content.

If you take any of this seriously and/or are offended by it, you probably enjoyed the “women’s studies” course in first year.  Here is a treat for you fucko.

Until we meet again.

The Six Week Coma. Las Vegas... The Aftermath.

Forgive me Internet, for I have sinned.  It has been 6 weeks since my last confession and/or blog post if you want to be a dick about it.  When I started writing this piece of crap several months ago, I promised myself (and all 6 of my friends) that I would be dedicated to the cause of promoting useless Internet content across the globe.  It was with this resolve and commitment that I thought of myself as less of a writer and more of an Olympic athlete, continuing to up the ante with more and more ridiculously insane accomplishments.  Well, I guess the fame got to my head and I "got away from my roots".  Sort of like this little bit of comedic genius...or as I like to call it "before The Mask ruined everything":

God, I love the world wide web...

Anyway, apparently I don't have the same level of commitment that I thought I did.  I'm ashamed to admit that a combination of summer activities, drinking and smoking like Andrew Dice Clay, and an insane job have all but sucked up every second of my time over the past month and a half.  Having said that, all is not lost for I have sucked the teet of greatness many times during the summer of my discontent. 

It all started with my first (and last) trip to Las Vegas (aka a much better Niagara Falls, minus the water falls and reasonable weather).  This trip started out as strictly business, but ended up with a severe case of dehydration, chronic fatigue syndrome, Alzheimer's, and a rash that continues to puzzle doctors.  Despite the ongoing medical issues, I have to admit that I recommend this as a destination for those willing to spend some serious $$$ to have a great time.  I'm probably not cool enough to speak of such things like the In-N-Out Burger, snorting cocaine off hookers, throwing cash in the air at the bar, or dropping ten grrr on roulette, so I'll leave the cool aspects of Vegas to Tucker Max and proceed with my cynical viewpoint (shocker alert).  Here we go:

• Plastic and/or Wax History - It is true what they say about the desert, be warned of the mirage.  Instead of a palm tree and a camel drinking from a pool of water, the mirage is actually a city called Las Vegas.  A city which simply rips off all the good it can find from other places in the world.  The Venetian?  Simply a plastic and concrete replica of Venice.  New York New York?  Can you say Genius! Genius!  I did.  The Luxor?  A photocopy of the pyramids.  Rumour has it they have entombed Elvis here.  If you don't care about seeing the real thing, this is a great way to tour the world while never leaving the strip I guess...
• Dirty Slots - I've read many times about the amount of fecal matter embedded into movie theatre seats, but I've never really seen anything that addresses how disgusting a slot machine is.  #1.  Take a look at the people who play slot machines routinely.  They are just gross.  Even the "second class" citizens have voted these people off the island.  #2.  When do these machines get cleaned?  I've never seen it happen.  The casinos are basically open all the time every day, so I shutter to think what type of bacteria exists on the surface of the penny slots, or the Wheel of Fortune machines... 
• Foot Tapping Tunes - word to the wise people, don't stay in The Venetian.  Although it is a freakin' beautiful casino/hotel/mall/resort, they play show tunes on a loop for the entire duration of your stay.  Give me Phantom of the Opera...No?  Give me Jersey Boys... No?  Give me Les Miserables... insanity.  The only thing worse than the music are the people that actually enjoy it.  Consider the elevator ride with the cliche overweight lesbian who just effin loves everything AL Webber... it smells like Tide detergent and is generally not cool.
• United Nations For Retarded People - Vegas presents a sampling of travellers from all over the planet.  Asians, Australians, Aspergers (wait...), Germans, South Americans, Jehovah's Witnesses (wait...), Russians, Swedes, Taliban's (wait...)...  It is great to see so many countries, religions, or philosophical points of view coming together to enjoy each others company... However, I gotta say that these people aren't necessarily the best of the best from their particular "group".  They are the definition of "don't judge a book by it's cover".  In fact, I'm 90% sure that the vast majority of them are pretentious illiterates...
• You Just Gotta Spend - now being the man whore that I am, I've witnessed or played the starring role in many an orgy (huh...hummm).  However, I've never seen so many people literally blow loads of money and bodily fluids in retail malls, stores, outlets, casinos, and so on.  I watched one 19 year old kid blow $7K at a black jack table in 15 minutes.  No shit.  I think he may have shot himself after, but it was tough to be sure based on the condition of the remains.  I guess somebody forgot to tell visitors of Vegas that the worldwide economic crisis ain't over yet or some guy named Vinny is presently "repoing" their house. 
• Paparazzi - this is the only city I've ever been to where white people out number the Asians in terms of camera use.  Who wants to remember their time there anyway?  Hide the fuckin evidence.
• Does Anyone Cook Their Own Food? - I counted.  You can't take more than 12 steps without hitting a place that serves food (or hookers, which arguably is the same thing).  Upon further review, there is actually one restaurant for every 25 full time residents in Las Vegas.  When you consider the total number of unsuspecting tourists who fly into this great city each day, I suppose the # of restaurants is appropriate.
• Hooker Trading Cards - also known as excellent "coasters" for the bar in your home, hooker trading cards are routinely handed out by Filipino nationals who have decided to flee the beauty of their home country for the filth of Las Vegas (and the promise of more $).  Nice move.  I struggle to understand why any guy would feel the need to pay for sex in a city where it is almost an automatic.  You just need to show up with a decent pair of pants and shoes.

I actually checked myself into emergency right after the flight.  No, it wasn't for the rash.  That came later like the butterfly effect.  It was for an unrelated injury sustained when a large rock decided to land on my hand while building a sacrificial bonfire, turning my hand into a new school version of the elephant man's face.



Be that as it may, I am back to 75% health (aka normal) and back in training for the Oly's.   Look for me to get back to championship form in the coming days/weeks, or until I fall back into a Las Vegas coma.