Contrary to popular belief, anyone or anything that stumbles across a hungry man’s path 20 minutes before and up to 45 minutes after the high noon lunch hour better be well-clad in metal armor and armed with a can of air freshener because stepping into that kind of line of fire [while someone is hungry or full] is a sure way to get the sh*t beaten out of you.
A long time ago, a caveman came up with this rule while he was sh*tting in the bushes moments after ingesting a baby dinosaur leg. Sadly, the caveman was attacked by the mother dinosaur, which followed his scent back to his camp after she couldn’t find her young. What the mother dinosaur didn’t know was that it is never wise to mess with a man after he’s eaten. Because every man would prefer at least 30 minutes of self time for his food to digest and his gas to pass, f*cking with him before his stomach settles is one bad idea — even for a dinosaur. The ass kicking of the mother dinosaur led to two things:
For this rule to have existed since the dawn of time, you would think that in this modern age, stupid ass office employees and nagging wives would’ve learned to keep their damn mouths closed during a very memorable pre and post experience of the stuffing of the face. Alas, they have not.
Work and home are two of the most common places where someone has received a horrible beat down because people have chosen to violate man’s only chance of peaceful, self-deserved alone-time. So many of these violent acts caused man — and congress — to insist that the average man spend his post-eating quality time in a restroom facility, closed off from the rest of the unappreciative world. There has not been, unfortunately, a time set aside for all the greedy bastards who have yet to embark on a pre-eating stage of hungrism. Because of the lack of commitment in protecting our citizens from such a brutal warning of no measure, it’s just advised to keep your damn distance until you’ve heard a belch or smelled a fart for yourself.
Many citizens of the great working world have all agreed that there are key phrases to let a person know when the window of opportunity is temporarily nailed shut for any approach of annoyance or plain old bullsh*t. Such phrases are listed below:
These are just a few warnings to let a person know when now’s not a good time.
It doesn’t take that much exertion to avoid getting your face smashed. Just keep your pestering ass away from all people whose stomachs growl louder than their raspy voices or whose butt stench smells like cheese and dill pickles. Once you’ve mastered the art of knowing when to stay the hell away from people, you’ve mastered a very useful skill. All it takes is a little effort. And 90% of any effort is getting started.
Quote of the week: “Never go to a doctor whose office plants have died.”
Everyone has experienced those types of folks who think they are better than everyone else. You know who I’m talking about. Generally, the people who used to be popular in high school, who are no longer as popular as the world told them they would be. The very same people who are now grown, forgettable, working average jobs and are getting paid minimum wage at most.
Somehow in their own little delusional world, everything still revolves around them. As much as we want to point our fingers and laugh at the mistake they’ve made of thinking they are the greatest thing since sliced bread, some part of us, a part maybe the size of a mustard seed, can’t help but to acknowledge their commitment in being rightfully shallow and arrogant about their own greatness. If there’s one thing we can take from these people, it’s the fact that they understand there is an “I” in “me, myself & I.”
To us, those people may not amount to a hill of beans but they are confident enough to believe otherwise.
Like all the supercilious folks on the planet, we need to find the confidence within ourselves to admit that we are special, different, and perfect in our own eyes because no one else will. Everyone else is too busy being as special as we are and even more so consumed with reminding us why we don’t match up to their personal expectations of us.
There’s one thing that we all fail to realize. Everyone has flaws. It kind of levels the playing field, don’t you think? You may not have as many flaws as the next person but you do have them. You just have to know how to make them work for you. And if you can’t, then you really have to know how to do one of two things:
Embrace your crooked teeth, split ends and small wardrobe. Your shortcomings are a part of you that makes you different from the next person. It is what makes you memorable — unless you have bad B.O. (body odor). There is no walking away from that.
So the next time someone walks up and says to you, “You think you’re all that,” you respond to them, “Yes I do. Thank you for noticing.” It doesn’t take that much to be a part time egotistical, conceited mutha-effer who doesn’t think his own sh*t stinks. 90% of any effort is getting started. Try a little harder and f*ck what anyone else thinks! The world is your oyster. Use the shell to throw at all the ugly people who are way less important than you are and remember — Hottywood Helps!
Quote of the week: “To attempt to advise conceited people is like whistling against the wind.”
Despite what you think or are led to believe, you can not turn a ho into a housewife! It does not matter how good the sex is — tricks, dips, locations or positions have nothing to do with anything outside of the common interest. To that ho you are nothing but another trophy on the mantle piece. Even if your sex is outrageously out of this world, for the most part the only thing you will have in common with your bedded counterpart is the f*ck. You may share a cuddle after that first, second or third climax, but once it’s over they will have forgotten your name until they’ve seen your number flash across their cell phone screen for another uninhibited romp.
A lot of people in our society confuse a good lay with emotions. They think that just because someone is riding the bull like a rodeo champ that their heart is also into it. Here’s a newsflash for all the delusional people in the world: Hoes don’t f*ck with their hearts. A ho will screw anything that walks; anything that makes them feel good between the legs. And one ho has many FWBs (friends with benefits). You are not as special as you are led to believe unless and except it’s between the sheets.
A good ho will make you feel like you are the icing on the cake. You will feel as appreciated as a donut with no calories. However, if you think you are that special case, then the only thing special about you is your stupidity. A ho is a ho for a reason. Just like he/she licked up and down your thighs, they’ve done it to the person before you and will most likely do it to the person after you. Getting your feelings involved with someone based on the sexual experience is moronic, imbecilic, dumb, premature, desperate and ill-advised. It screams, “Something is wrong with me and I’m single for a gotdamn reason!”
Even if you are able to convince a ho that they should settle down with you and turn their promiscuous ways around, it won’t be long before they seek a romantic tryst with someone other than you [or a couple of someones in addition to you]. It’s in their nature. It’s in their mind. It’s like a calling from their loins; an uncontrollable urge to mate over and over without any attachments; with no strings; no repercussions.
The only purpose you will serve to that ho is to boink like wild rabbits, unless you have deep pockets. Then they will be smart and manipulative enough to make you believe their world is centered around you and the platinum plastic stashed away in your wallet. In that case what you have on your hands is an on-call prostitute. You may have a good lay every Friday or Saturday night, but come Sunday morning you’re going to be repenting for your sins. And what good is repenting if you’re going to keep making the same sinful mistakes?
If you’re planning on making a housewife out of ho, then you need to do the following things:
Though I make it common practice to advise that 90% of any effort is getting started, turning a ho into a housewife should be considered a wasted effort. That is unless you’re a pimp. And if you want my opinion, that’d be just as stupid as a desperate man confusing a f*ck with feelings.
Quote of the week: “You can wait for the right one to come along, but until then, you might as well enjoy a good time with all the wrong ones.”
I’ve heard it all before, “I can’t,” “I give up,” “You win,” and my personal favorite, “I won’t even try.” What the hell is wrong with you, you loser?! Didn’t your mother ever teach you that no one likes a quitter? If she hasn’t, then she failed as a mother and deemed you an underachiever who will probably never amount to anything except VIP treatment in a loser’s lounge.
Why should anyone feel sorry for you? You’re doing a damn good job of that, yourself.
**Real talk** If the most faith you have in yourself is the belief that you will never achieve any greater success than counting the fart bubbles you produce in your bathtub, then you might as well pull the plug on that dirty water and go down the drain right along with it.
Where is your commitment to yourself? I’m talking about the [self] commitment of amounting to something greater than what you’re already not. Are you so satisfied with being a nobody whose going nowhere quickly, except home to mommy and daddy, that you’re willing to let your life pass you by? If that’s the most you can offer yourself, then you are consciously giving up a better life here on this crappy planet because you’re too blinded to see the view beyond your mom’s basement apartment window. It’s time to dig your way out that barrel and find out what all the other crabs are getting into when they aren’t being captured on beaches and steamed and sold to the highest paying corporate job fish market.
Sooner or later, you’ll need to stand on top of that express check-out counter, where you usually and most graciously accept your customer’s EBT cards, hold that brown paper bag proudly over your head and say to the masses, “I am greater than minimum wage!” Then quit your job before your boss has security tackle you to the ground and take away your store discount credit. After you’ve polished off the last of that 40oz Old English and buried your sorrows somewhere inside that bloated pot belly of yours, you’ll realize that a change is necessary. And if that final gross belch doesn’t wake you up, perhaps the piercing shriek of your mother’s war cry will when you come home with no paycheck and tell her you’ve been fired for quitting on company’s time. She’ll call you every name in the book from a trifling nobody to a HOMELESS trifling nobody who couldn’t keep a job bagging groceries for people who only come to your check-out lane to feel better about themselves.
The bottom line is you can’t quit something you’re too chicken sh*tted to start. You can have a better life. Dead end jobs are so yesterday. Living at home with your parents is so 80’s. Step into the new millenium. Find out what you’re worth. Get laid a little. Find out what getting laid is worth.
The moral is if you accept defeat before you even get into the game, you’ll always find yourself at the starting point when everyone else has humped their way to victory with a water-based lube. Do you really want to be the only dry virgin waiting at the starting line when everyone else has experienced their climax several times and moved on to the next big thing? If you’re afraid to crawl from beneath that rock and head on over to the boom boom room, then you deserve to be living in a basement. Quitters never win for a damn reason and the only critters who should feel sorry for your ass are the roaches you board as roommates for taking up their space in the dark.
Normally I would end by saying that 90% of any effort is getting started. However in this case, it’ll probably take more effort to finish doing the nothing you started out with while everything else passes you by.
Quote of the week: “Procrastination is suicide on an installment plan.”