5 Ways to Ruin a First Date

We've all been there. Anxiety, sweat, anticipation, constipation... The first date. Maybe you've met the person before. Maybe it's a blind date. Whichever the case may be... if you get to the line of scrimmage and don't like the look of the defense, here are 5 sure fire ways to get your ass out of there.

1. Start Masturbating Furiously
Subtly. Don't whip it out or throw your hand down your pants... slide them down there, like a gentleman, or lady. Right about the time where the un-holy beast is telling you about how much they're job sucks... just nod 'uh huh', and slide your hand down to your crotch slowly, begin to rub.. vigorously. Your date will ask, "are you ok? do you like, have an itch?" Respond by saying... "Nah I don't, I'm jerking off." If he or she doesn't excuse themselves from the table at that point... move to number 2.

2. Announce that you think that, 'Hitler was cool, but he had some bad ideas.'
If your date is Jewish, they will leave immediately. If not they will question your statement. Counter with... "I just think that maybe if like he hadn't killed just Jews, Poles, Russians, French, Belgians, Retarded people, Intellectuals, Doctors, Artists, Lawyers, Priests and Pollacks, maybe his shit wouldn't stink so bad, ya know?" If your date is still at the table. You have got yourself a Nazi. Run with it, into number 3...

3. Re-cant everything you have just said.
Laugh it off, tell your date that you just said all that stuff about Hitler to see what kind of reaction you'd get... because what you really wanted to say was.... and then tell him/her that you enjoy watching your underground copies of 'New York Midget on Midget Plus Donkey.' What is NYMMD you ask? Who the fuck knows... at this point you're dealing with a Nazi.. time to get tough. Tell him or her, how you enjoy watching that cute face of pain wash into a lovely face of angry pain, and how animals were put on this earth for us to use... not just for food. Alright I'm getting sick just thinking about this and I'm the one fucking writing it. You get the point though... just start spouting out stupid bullshit about underground German porn, or something that you find nauseating. If your date at this point hasn't left... its time for the big guns.

4. Run to your car and change into the Spanish Conquistador costume you stashed away in the trunk.
Return to the table, or bar and start saying things like; "Cortez has given me a map, a map which marks a place, where dreams are made, ancient songs ring in the air, a place which I will take you, after your crab cocktail." "You remind me alot of the Aztec God of obesity." Refuse to take off your helmet, for it is in such hospitable environments, that men can turn to the most deplorable demons. Start throwing things at neighboring tables, and when the patron turns to you, blame it on the God quetzalcoatl. This should work. Insanity is usually a deal breaker in most cases, unless the person youre with also insane.

5. Ask your date if they're, 'into diarrhea'
If he or she says yes.... marry them. Ok so diarrhea is disgusting, but its also intriguing. I'm not saying you should think about jumping into a diarrhea fetish, but think about the sexual possibilities with a person who is that depraved. If the hump you're about to hump is in to liquid poop... you've got it made in the shade. That is truly the last frontier and if you have reached that on the first date... May all the whiskey in Cork sing you to thy rest.


P. S. - I do not endorse coprophagia, beastiality or midget pornography in any way shape or form. If YOU do... hey, it's your world I just live in it.

Mets Fans... A Gathering of Ignorance

I do not hide my deep love for the New York Yankees, my hate for the Boston Red Sox and for the city of Boston itself, but recently there has been a new little flicker of hatred growing inside me... and its for Mets Fans. Not the Mets themselves so much, because I mean lets face it... what is a Met? A Met is a baseball player, who although plays for a major league team in NYC, is still a second class athlete in the eyes of the majority. I feel kinda bad for Mets, its like being the middle child, or the ugly dog at the pound.. you walk by and say ... "awww poor guy", and then immediately move on. The fans however... alright lets get started...

The Met fan is the guy who decides to root for a team because "everyone else likes the Yankees." Which brings me to my first point... Met's fans have this belief that its "easy to be a Yankee fan." Are you fucking kidding me? The Yanks are the most hated team on the planet. Every time they play the other team plays a little harder because they're playing the big bad Yankees. The Yankees have a solid history of winning and domination, their fans are loyal, and everyone hates us. Major League... they played the hated Yankees, that stupid movie with Kevin Costner where he pitches for Detroit.. they played the hated Yankees, and as I remember there is a scene in the movie where a Yankee fan sitting at a bar is made to look like a complete bozo and the bartender whispers something like, "damn Yankee fans" or something. People hate us so much they lambaste us in the movies. Have you ever seen a movie, TV show, or fuckin comic book where the apex of the action is the big game versus The Mets? No you haven't.

If anything its easy as pie to be a Met fan. No one gives a shit about the Mets, they try to hate us and bait us into some new Red Sox - like rivalry but sorry Mr. Met... we got our rivalry. The Mets have never been good... aside from 1969 and 1986, there is no expectation for them to do well from year to year and that fact alone makes it easy to be a Met fan. Oh the Mets didn't go anywhere this season?... that sounds bout right.

Another thing that Mets fans try to parade around as a reason to hate the Yankees; is the payroll Issue. Lets get this straight.... the highest payroll..... doesn't mean shit. The Yanks haven't won in 7 years Douchenuggets. Last year the Yank's payroll was $189,639,045. The Mets $115, 231,663. The difference of about 73 million bucks doesn't mean a fucking thing in pro sports. And the Mets have the money by the way... they're building a new stadium... they just don't spend it. Load of horse shit.

Finally, the Met fan is a truly pathetic animal, desperately searching for a rivalry. I mean what kind of a team can you have when you don't even have a good rivalry? The Braves? the Phillies... wow cant wait to tune in to those grind out grudge-matches. The colors suck, blue and orange... just screams baseball to me. The stadium... oh God ... Id rather watch a baseball game in Fallujah. They have a mascot... Mr. Met. What the fuck man? That's bush-league shit... sorry Philly, but you know its true. Its a sad state of affairs in Queens, and I for one am happy to hear it.

NYY WS CHAMPIONSHIPS - 1923, 1927, 1928,1932, 1936, 1937, 1938, 1939, 1941, 1943, 1947, 1949, 1950, 1951, 1952, 1953, 1956, 1958, 1961, 1962, 1977, 1978, 1996, 1998, 1999, 2000.

NY METS WS CHAMPIONSHIPS - 1969, 1986.

What a rivalry!

Voting Is For Losers

Ok, I know what all you little haters out there are wondering, when are these guys going to talk politics? Johnnyboy already touched on those annoying Bush bashers, but never officially stated a political affiliation (or at least as far as I read). Well, I am your beacon of hope and I will tell you who to vote for…The Sane Choice: Jim “The Ultimate Warrior” Hellwig and Brutus “The Barber” Beefcake. Hellwig is a beast for one, he won’t get polio like that lame old FDR from a few years back. Beefcake, well, I suppose Hellwig could have chosen anyone for a running mate, but the Warrior/Beefcake ticket just seems to flow. "Dad, I'm voting for Hellwig & Beefcake." I like the sound of that. What are Hellwig’s policies you ask? Here’s a taste of what you can expect…Bin Laden: smashed. Taxes: tapped out. Homelessness: powerbombed. The Budget: balanced due to more smashing. Steroids: legalized and encouraged (finally). AIDS: Piledriven. Children: fighting machines. That’s right kids, Uncle Warrior and Vice Uncle Beefcake will no longer tolerate insubordination. Junk food out (sans Slim Jims, of course). X Boxes and Playstations will be destroyed and melted into weapons of mass destruction (not Wiis though, Hellwig is intrigued). Everyone must have the proper children’s hairstyle from the 1980s, no questions asked, after all our new VP is a professionally untrained barber. Oh, and cigarettes? Still worried if little Tairy or teenie Henrietta might starting smoking young? What the hell(wig) do you think?

I blog, I update. Hellwig and Beefcake are reclusive and computers are foreign to them. In turn, America will now be updated with handwritten holiday cards like so. Here is a Thanksgiving update:




I case you haven’t figured it out, I don’t care about voting. It’s not for losers (that was just a hateful title), but I don’t care what or who you’re voting for. As far as everyone knows, on Election Day I’m voting, but in reality I’m just going to treat myself to ice cream. Where? I’m not sure yet, but I’m looking forward to it. Then when I have kids and it’s time to vote for Chelsea Clinton, Hammock Obama, Flava Flav, or whoever else, guess what? Yes, we are not voting and going out for ice cream (unless my kids are fat, then just Slim Jims for them). So when you’re deciding Obama, Hilary, or McCain, my choices of chocolate, vanilla, or cookie dough will be more delicious than yours. Remember, your vote doesn’t count and no one will blame you if you stay home and eat, it’s the American Way.

Things I wish I could do... and Will Probably Try

This summary is not available. Please click here to view the post.

Motherboy: Television For Women

Sometimes the things I hate are byproducts of things I love. Case in point: I LOVE the series Arrested Development and regard it as one of the best shows ever produced. I HATE the fact that it was cancelled.
The legacy lives, however, as the Motherboy (a dinner dance aimed at promoting mother/son bonding) episode is being slightly reproduced by the twisted bastards at Lifetime (television for women). They are pimping out a new show, Your Mama Can’t Dance. The Motherboy concept, albeit twisted, lives on. In this reality series, some of America's hottest dancers auditioned for a chance to be a part of a new dance rivalry show under the fictitious name Dance Nation (they had to be tricked, let’s face it), but they had no idea that they would be getting screwed over majestically. They soon discovered that they'd be working with a partner and that their partner would be one of their parents and/or guardians! Now, five female dancers will be fox-trotting with their fathers (Fathergirl doesn’t sound as good) while five male dancers will be doing the mambo with their mothers as they vie for praise from the judges (yes that is directly from the Lifetime site, I had to leave it in).

So who are the judges you dare ask? They are the inevitable who’s who of shit-stains on Hollywood's Walk of Fame. First there’s Chris Judd, who’s bio on the Lifetime website (internet for women) mentions nothing of his failed marriage to J-Lo, his most famous work ever (if he knocked her up, he’d be sitting pretty like K-Fed). Then there’s Vitamin C, yes the Graduation (Friends Forever) songstress bitch, who made every girl and gay dude cry in the 2000 graduating class and I’m sure today’s classes have to painstakingly have to deal with that same garbage every summer. Then there’s the biggest goon of them all, Ben Vereen. Mister Vereen is widely regarded as a legendary actor and is probably a very credible judge…so I hear. To me he is nothing more than an asshole. Remember that episode of the Fresh Prince where Will’s dad (Ben Vereen) actually visits?? Things are going just swell (aside from the disappointment that Mr. Smith was a short, borderline homeless looking man). So much like Uncle Phil predicted, Papa Smith ditches Will…and I wish Uncle Phil whipped ass that day (yes that’s all I know Benjamin Vereen from, what’s it to ya?). Back to Motherdance, so the whole thing’s host by Steve Sanders himself, 90210’s Ian Ziering (so Mario Lopez is THAT busy these days I guess). So Captain Ziering uses whatever charm he stole from Luke Perry and Jason Priestley, while the producers worry if Ben Vereen will make up another lame excuse and bail on the show like he did Will. Oh, yeah and a bunch of kids get tricked into dancing with the parents much to Lifetime viewers’ pleasure. Well, all I know is this Friday, I’m watching some freestyle waltzing, boy’s choice! Ah, I digress, now if you want to see kids and adults interact in creepy and hilarious fashion, stick with Dateline: To Catch a Predator, thank you.