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!