Annoying Things

Facebook

I think Facebook needs a Hitler like character that can segregate all the stupid people that are on the site then slaughter them brutally. By slaughter I mean ban from using Facebook. Every damn day I get a stupid group invite such as; "FOR EVERY PERSON THAT JOINS THIS GROUP, WE WILL DONATE $10 TO THE PEOPLE OF HAITI" or "MY MOM SAYS SHE WILL QUIT SMOKING IF 1 MILLION PEOPLE JOIN THIS GROUP." No! Ok, let us break these two groups down shall we:

First off, at last check, the group had over 324,000 members. That is $3,240,000! Unless Fortune 500 CEO's are making Facebook groups, it's a scam. If you really give a shit, donate to the Red Cross yourself. Don't join a group to have some other person donate on your behalf. It's kind of like being a redshirt football player and then the team wins a national championship. Yes, technically you kind of won, but you didn't do shit to help.

Second, your Mom doesn't love you. That is a straight fact. If she needs the approval of 1 million strangers in order to get enough motivation to quit smoking, your Mom essentially cares more about those million strangers more than you, her own son. Yeah! BOOM! Right?! If said kid is reading this (which he should be, I'm going global next week), try not to freak out and kill yourself, better yet, kill your Mom because she never loved and exposed you to the world as a failure.

Whew! Venting feels good right?! There are others but I will spare them my wrath for now.

Teen Cribs

Oh, so I heard Diddy's son got a $300,000 car for his Sweet 16. Oh except he can't drive cause he doesn't have a license. But don't worry, he has his own personal chauffeur. This brings me to a subject that really bugs the shit out of me, "Teen Cribs."

Can I just say that these kids are not only spoiled as balls but also retarded. And yes I mean that word in the degrading "Shh! Don't say that in public" kind of way.

Some broad was showing off her Dad's car

- "Like this is my Dad's 1967 Cobra, it's really fast."

Wow your intelligence is mind-bottling, now take me to the pool!

- "Umm, this is the pool... it's for swimming”

Oh really that's what this is for. I thought this particular pool was for something else like hosting bible study or mass executions.

Oh and don't even get me started with the guys. It seems like no matter what race they are, they all talk like they are on BET.

- “Yo this my 09 blacked out range rover on 22’s”

Firstly, that's racist to "black out" a car or do you mean the alternate meaning of "Yo this my 09 super wasted range rover on 22's." And how do you know they are 22's? Could you please whip out a tape measure to support your preposterous hypothesis?

But I will say that the best one was the entrance into the living room where essentially the family billboard was located.

- "There! like this is my family portrait, it was done by Picasso and it costs like a bajillion dollars. What? Picasso’s dead? Oh yeah my Dad paid like 500 million dollars to dig up Picasso and bring him back to life so he could paint our beautiful family. What? That’s impossible? No my dad did it, he totally reincarnated Picasso."

You can’t spell that.

- "What? Yes I can…"

Seriously?!

"Oh yeah we uh had Picasso but he was in the 21^st century and you know he is as old as Jesus so we were like Picasso man you have to go, so we shot him in the back of the head by our pool… our pool that’s for swimming."

Just ridiculous!

Daddy's Home

Greetings fellow blog readers,

By now my reputation most certainly precedes me for you know about all my past work, most of which I'm not entirely proud of. If you have no idea what I am talking about, I suggest you read the OTHER posts, preferably in order. My blog posts would not make good Tarantino movies. Anyways... yes! You remember the last time I went on this adventure, speaking of the intricacies that are involved with living with a real albino... except for the red eyes part, and the Avalanche jersey was a clever distraction to cover up his albinoness. Yes that is a word. Oh and sidebar... albino people smell like Bed, Bath and Beyond... just something to know. Ok so this is probably the part where I should tell you that I no longer am with an albino. I'm with real humans. Oh another sidebar... how awesome would it be to live with those Nav'i people from "Avatar"? No I haven't seen the movie but they look cool, like super smurfs. Yes back to reality, this blog will no longer be about degrading a person to basically nothing. I'm above that, c'mon now. This blog will now be about anything, anything at all. In fact, the first post of the New Era (Yeah that's right, New Era, it's gonna catch) will be about a lot of different random things but will still surely be entertaining.

It was over winter break, up in this mystical land called Keystone, Colorado. A certain substance may or may not have entered my system and may or may not have taken over my body. Ah screw it, it took over big time. I literally thought I was dying and I was viewing my life from the third person. Just "sober Mathew" floating above "high Mathew" and watching him conjure up philosophical conundrums that would confuse the likes of Aristotle and Plato.

Sidebar

What is the deal with Myspace? Is that shit cool anymore? I dunno... Oh and Twitter, I got one but don't know what to do with it, I'm so confused

Wait fuck this story, I was brutally attacked by a 15 year old girl last year.

Another thing, I'm gonna tell this whole story like the "Night Before Christmas" poem.

It was a brisk winter night, with the nipple-hardening cold

Not a person was about, not even the old.

It was late in the evening, about 11 hours past noon,

With 4 men waiting for the bus, as it was coming soon.

Smelling like sweat from their intense soccer game,

those damn C-league intramurals, they really aren't lame!

They walked up to the bus stop, where others did wait

And stood there together to start talking real estate

That's actually not true, I just need something to rhyme

Don't go hating on me bitch! That ain't no crime!

Anyways back to the story, this won’t take long,

Perhaps sing-aloud, like a nice little song.

A shower of leaves fell upon us with care

Did that bitch really do that? The one with the hair

She most certainly did and she left us alone,

But only for a second because our future was known.

She pushed us from behind, for no apparent reason

And said to stop talking about deer hunting season.

That's a lie too, you will soon catch on,

This poem is just so damn hard 'mon!

She said to stop making, fun of her friend,

the one puking up vodka, in the trash at the end.

"Stop being assholes" she incoherently said,

For if we did not, we'd surely be dead.

We went back to our business, we thought she was done

But I saw her come back, now it's time for the fun.

I ripped off my jacket, in a fake white-hot rage

Said "bitch what's your problem? get back in yo' cage!"

At this point she is fuming, in her belligerent stupor

I thought to myself "well isn't this super?"

She grabbed me by the shirt, and got up in my face

Her hand in her purse, probably reaching for mace.

At this point I'm scared of the screaming devil child

This drunken surprise was no longer on mild.

She starts kneeing me in my special parts and punching my back,

pushing me into the street, I almost fell back!

But with his quick catlike reflexes and giant man hands,

It was Colton who saved me from dreaded funeral plans.

He boxed me out from her, like Shaq on a midget.

She reached for me still, scratching me with her digit.

But soon the psycho left, and then the bus came.

Ending the story of being abused by a dame.

It might not sound scary, and I may look like an ass

But don't let my poem fool you, she was quite full of sass.

That is all for now, as I close out this tale,

For my next adventure, I wrestle a whale.

Ha gotcha again! Another bold lie,

I'm so good at poems, this one ends with bye-bye!

Triple A

What is up people?  I guess I get to start by welcoming you to the New Year or what I will start to call “Take what’s mine in 2009.”  It has been far too long indeed and I have three things I will address in what I just made up, AAA.  There is one thing that is on everyone’s mind and yes, I will briefly address it while trying to make it funny, but no guarantees.  Without further ado, the three A’s of tonight’s blogging mindfuck are; Arkansas, Ass kickin’, and Aaron (yes, I still hate the fucker).

            As most of you already know, yes I was in Arkansas and no I will not share the details, this blog is a family place.  You never know if my grandchildren will use their mind controlled super computers to browse the Interweb (that’s what it will be called then, just watch) and look to see if their super cool G-Pa wrote dirty blogs. No dammit! I won’t let that happen.  Anyways, the highlights… OMG! The hand dryers in the restrooms at the airport made me want to revert to my golf ball stealing days of old, only I don’t even know where to begin to steal a hand dryer and the sheer size of it and loose wiring could make me look suspicious in an airport environment.  Made by the vacuum company Dyson, these dryers didn’t suck (literally… in both meanings of it).  First you put your hands in it like you were getting a manicure or trying to act supergay!  They then made this high pitched whooshing sound and pumped out air at like Mach 12 until your hands went from saturated in moisture to pleasantly dryed.  It was definitely something that I look to put in my own bathroom, right next to the plasma tv that is in the floor, kinda like at Red Robin.  So fast forward roughly 12 hours and I’m sitting in some frat guys room, drunk as hell talking in a ridiculous southern accent to “Sid” whose actual name was Seth but he had a mad accent so it sounded like Sid while my recently crowned girlfriend dances on a table with 3 guys I obviously don’t know (don’t worry we had a crazy telepathic moment in which she was like “Is that ok?” and I just nodded my head one time and went back to being temporary DJ).  The rest I don’t really remember.  Basically in summary the people were insanely nice, the girls visually pleasing, the buildings massive, the football stadium made me “jizz in my pants”, the food had a similar effect (3 words “chicken fried chicken”, it will be served at my wedding) and I also had an awesome time with someone particularly special…  You may wonder why the trip “highlights” consisted of hand dryers and my girlfriend dancing with other guys but like I said, the grandkids.

            Part duex of the AAA, or AA at this point.  In recent news, AA would also be two helpful initials for some people of interest.  Ass-kickin’.  Right, this weekend, a few good men (good movie) and I went to Apocalypse 2009 which was basically UFC, MMA crap.  And let me just say for the record, “that shit was TIGHT!”  Dudes (and chicks mind you) beating the crap out of each other with fists of fury is very entertaining.  If this sport is the future of America, watch out other countries… you’re fucked. 

But before I go into it, there was a Yu-Gi-Oh and World of Warcraft convention going on in the ballroom next door.  I didn’t know these things even existed and when I saw a good hundred gathered playing I couldn’t help but poke around.  It was actually really hard just to not laugh at everyone you saw there.  I felt like an asshole even taking pictures of the whole spectacle but then I remembered.  I’m wayyyy cooler than these kids and all was forgotten.  The quote of the night?  After laying down some really good card, like a Lvl. 60 dwarf or triple damage lightning bolt, goofy kid says to his opponent in complete trash talking fashion, “What will I summon next?!”  It was like watching Steve Urkel talk trash to Screech.  Just very sad…

Anyways, this promotion was complete with its shitty sound system, ring girls (who obviously don’t know what a Stairmaster is) and a ring announcer guy who had a voice so deep he should be doing movie previews.  Two highlights here too, the first was when one old dude got hit in the head so hard by some young dude that his body went limp and he crashed to the mat like a tree falling in a forest.  Oh, he then got up 10 seconds later like nothing happened, poor guy.  The other highlight (besides the main event) was the chick fight which pitted a tall girl probably with a high school basketball career and lots of friends vs. some hoodlum bitch straight outta juvie (like seriously, I’m surprised her entrance didn’t consist of prison guards, an orange jumpsuit, and ankle shackles).  Initially you’re first thought is WTF?!  I can picture it now…

 

AT THE FIGHT SET-UP MEETING MONTHS EARLIER…

Head Dude – Okay chick fight.  Any ideas?

Dude 1 – I got some tall newcomer chick, pretty face.

Dude 2 – I got a real hardass bitch, teeth like a homeless person and hair like Weird Al.

Drunk Dude named Jack – SET THAT SHIT UP!

Head Dude – Alright, let’s go with Jack for once.

 

NO! Do not listen to Jack for once.  Jack’s a drunk.  He is a failure.  How he keeps his job is beyond us all.  You can probably guess how it ended up.  Juvie bitch made basketball chick her human punching bag for 15 minutes and when it was all said and done basketball chick looks like she got clubbed in the face with a shovel.  Yeah America eats the shit up for some reason.

            Finally the last A, the main event.  Aaron.  Things just get worse as the days tick by.  He still doesn’t understand the concept of a clean dish.  Apparently where he comes from his momma does all the dishes.  I only recently brought up this problem with him.  I tried to be subtle at first and just not do dishes to see if he’d actually do them but I found myself eating cereal out of a muffin pan with a fork so I gave in.  He also doesn’t take the trash out either.  Apparently his momma does all that shit too.  I finally told him to start taking out the trash when I brought up the point that my girlfriend who lives 856 miles away has taken out the trash more than he has.  She only did it once.  Oh and apparently he is still oblivious to the fact that I think the world would be a better place without people like him because he said and I quote “We should live together next year.  We get along really well.”  It might be worth mentioning that I was doing dishes when he said those words.  Needless to say, I replied with a smile plastered on my face for effect “No I’m gonna live somewhere else next year.”  Now he talks to me even less cause his whole world came crashing down once he realized his roommate doesn’t really like him.  Really?  You don’t say.  Who would of guessed?  I sure hope this roommate doesn’t have a blog dedicated to reducing him to belly button lint.

 

Alright my peeps.  Good times.  I’ll try and do these more often.  See you in the promised land!

 

Not Studying For Finals

So I'm delaying studying for finals yet again by listening to Taylor Swift, who by the way is hot and awesome, two things every man should strive for.  You know who you are.  I should also mention that I found my roommate crying today.  While not the typical shower show like the ending scene of Armageddon, I saw red eyes and glassed over eyeballs.  Which could indicate the recent inhalation of certain herbal substances but I think we can rule that one out. I had just finished talking on my cellular device to my dear friend in Kollin's Fort, I won't name names, when I stumbled into it.  I'm pretty sure it wasn't Ocean's 13 that started this festival but nonetheless I didn't ask questions and instead filled up a glass of good juice, you know the kind.  He then proceeded to go to his room and close the door.  I dunno what it could have been but it could be related to his favorite team in the Colorado Avalanche.  The only words he has spoken to me this whole weekend (he went home okay, I'm not rude) involve his frustration with the Av's starting their backup goalie vs. the Red Wings.  He was visibly shaken by this event but like I said before, I didn't ask questions.  

So I thought I might take time to point out a few things that Aaron does that are, well to be blunt, fucking weird.  

1)  At least 3 times a week I notice he will fill up a glass of milk then go to his room for 45 minutes, leaving the milk on the counter to warm to room temperature. This one is very strange.  I thought I would analyze the possible reasons for this... 

We don't have a chimney and it's weeks before Christmas so I don't think he left it out for Santa Claus, plus Santa wants goddamn cookies with his milk and I didn't see any cookies.  

Maybe he got me a glass of milk out of kindness and generosity.  While plausible I usually like to be physically given a glass of milk.  People usually ask a question and follow up with appropriate action.  Plus the only milk I drink during a given day comes from the bottom of a cereal bowl.  All other liquids come in the form of juice, water and certain drinks that make your head spin.  Put that milk with some Lucky Charms and we have a deal.

The last possible reason is that he still has not adjusted to the temperature of cold milk.  Maybe he likes his milk warm like from the breast of his momma.  But you'd think that if you can't adjust to milk, how in holy hell did you get into college.  Most people I imagine with this disability, which statistically affects one in 7 billion, have other problems like not being able to tie their shoes or write legibly. 

*Quick side note:  The only pair of shoes I own with shoelaces are running shoes.  The rest are slip-ons or velcro but that's my choice.  Anyways, I chose to go for a run the other day, something I do like three times a year, and it took me like 5 minutes to tie my damn shoes.  For some reason I thought I learned to tie my shoes with the "two bunny ears" method.  Suffice it to say, I was a "loop it, swoop it and pull" kind of kid.  Who knew right?  I ran for 7 minutes, gasping for air, turned around and died.

2)  At least once a week, he will make a Cup of Noodles and take it right from the microwave to a tubberware in the refrigerator.   I can't think of any possible reason for doing this other than thinking "Fuck I don't Cup of Noodles, I want Easy Mac... Ah fuck it, I'll save it for later."

3) At least once a month he will take a shower.  I notice these things cause when the shower is turned on it sounds like construction is occurring on the floor above.  This one just bothers me because I shower twice a day.  His idea of a shower is running his wet finger though his hair in the morning.  But then I remembered... kids who wear Avalanche jerseys every damn day don't have to worry about their hair since their were fucked of any type of social life the moment the walked out the door.

Okay, that's all for now, I'm a study now.  I'll try and write a blog about my adventures of Christmas, wait that's prejudice, Winter Break.

I'll see ya!

what?

Yes, the topic for tonight is what?  For some of you this might be like what the fuck?  Haha exactly, I got you to say what.  I said what what, in the butt... If you didn't get that joke, well here you go.  Sorry I had to do that.  

Some of you are undoubtedly saying, "Why in holy hell has it been so damn long?"  Well I dunno, I have no excuses, to take a line from Wedding Crashers... Rule No. 76 No Excuses, Play Like A Champion... yeah that's me, I'm playing like a champion, all champions took unnecessary retirements (See Michael Jordan... both times), except mine wasn't a retirement, more like an injury and the only injury feasible for a blogger is carpal tunnel, so there you go.  I have been sidelined for the last month and a half with carpal tunnel, which I abbreviate CT.  Not to be confused for CT scan, which is also a cat scan except it's CT scan, I have no clue what the real CT stands for but it can't be as important as carpal tunnel so fuck it.  So as I sit here pondering the future of this blog, I couldn't help but come across this amazing song to describe my feelings for this blog...

So yeah, there you have it, I promise I will never abandon this blog again.  It's far too awesome and necessary to avoid.  I have received literally thousands (literally literally a few) complaints about me not blogging so I have come to you now.  I shall blog on.  Except we might have hit a major roadblock in Project: Corruption of New Roommate, but more on that later...

Till next time... peace fuckers!!!

It's Coming!

The latest and most up to date information on the blog!

Aaron and his beloved HBO

Oh yes, my dear bloggies, the time has come.  Sorry for the delay but Aaron has simply been relatively normal and I have been up to nothing interesting.  But now I will present you with a gift that I too have been given.  Passed on from father to son for generations.  

That gift, mon amigos, is called porn -wait for it- ography, pornography. 

And not only that, Aaron has been dealt his first card in the Operation: Corruption of New Roommate.  If you go back, you will see that one of the important steps in this operation is introducing Aaron to the wonders of the internet, and now, Aaron has been caught in-her-net (haha I'm hilarious).  And that beautiful woman, well she has many different names.  Come along and you will see how this unfolded.

9:57 pm *local time*... I'm eating my Breyer's Snickers Ice Cream and watching CSI: Miami, with my door closed (key point).  After CSI is over and David Caruso gets off my damn TV, I go outside where I thought Aaron was playing NHL '09.  Only to my sweet surprise, Aaron is watching HBO 2 and the episode of choice... Real Sex 32: Some Like It Hot.  

YES!  I caught Aaron, redhanded (and redfaced) watching porn and boy was it awkward.  I could here the grunts and squeals as soon as my door opened and Aaron evidently was in a trance. I walk in and as soon as he realizes I'm in the room, QUICKLY (and I mean quickly, he should consider track) changes the channel.  His face turns a bright, stoplight red. The exact red your face turns after you have been caught jerking it.

(now I didn't actually catch him in the act, thank god, but I can only assume that the next ten minutes would have gone something like; TV? off, Xbox? off, shower? on, lotion? check, toilet paper? check, lock door? click, Mat's writing about me in his blog? CHECK!)... 

And now is a rare window into my awesome life...

This past Saturday, roughly 12:30 IN THE MORNING *local time* (so early Sunday), I'm all alone and enjoying me some girls that live together.  (I know what your thinking "Eww, gross".  Uh uh, not gross, "masturbation," as the term is frequently coined, is scientifically proven to better your health, look it up you supposedly sinless ass, like you've never done it)  All of a sudden I'm beginning to feel happier than normal and then... it happens...  THE FUCKING FIRE ALARM INTERRUPTS MY HAPPY TIME.  

So I rush to put some damn pants on, not even thinking about my hard-on poking around for air (God only gave us enough blood to run either your dick or your brain, but not both at once).  

So I run outside, 3/4 mast, without a belt, my ass sagging out and I have on my favorite Spencer's T-shirt "From Myspace... To Myplace" complete with stick figure diagrams.  I get to sit outside in the cold for 45 damn minutes while the fire department comes in and discovers *gasp* no fire? That is unheard of. A fire alarm going off and... there is no fire. That is just bananas, b-a-n-a-n-a-s (insert Gwen Stefani here).

Soon enough, it's 1:20 in the morning on Sunday... and time to resume happy time. (And yes, it was all still running, with the sounds and all coming out when I got back)

... Okay I hope you enjoyed that cause that was a rare moment into my life.  

Oh, so Aaron's face is beet red and I can't help but comment "Ah nice" as I see the boobies and ass fly around in 50 inches of hi-def, hot, sexual fury.  Aaron CHANGES the channel (the first sign in admitting guilt) and responds with "Haha... HBO makes me laugh."  I can't help but think why someone would laugh at porn, just laugh at anything "sex" for that matter.  

The only time you can laugh at something highly sexual is when your buddy rambles on and on about scoring last night... only to find out that "Alexa" was short for "Alexander".  

So I wash my bowl of delicious ice cream, which now rests comfortably in my belly, and begin to think "Mathew, the time has come."  I walk over, sit down next to him on the couch and say "Don't sink to the level of HBO to pleasure yourself... hold tight."  I go to my room, write down three VERY important websites (I won't name them, I don't do free advertising) on a sticky note and place it right in front of him.  Swear to Ghandi, I gave Aaron the "Holy Grail of Porn" and it was now his move.  I can only hope that this sticky note has, pardon the word use, become a little stickier.  

Summarily, Aaron set himself up for something sweeter than the most delicious candy money can buy.  I gave him the most important sticky note he has ever laid eyes upon and THAT, fellow bloggos, is the reason I will be sporting homemade earmuffs tonight in my sleep.

Until next time, this is your favorite blogger in the world.

Go Fuck Yourselves San Diego!