Tuesday, March 16, 2010

My Blackberry is a fucking asshole...

Say you're in a some kind of underground, thunderdome-esque, full contact, trivia contest of death and the final question you need to answer to gain your freedom is "how much do farts weigh?" Stay with me. Due to your spectacular performance in the first part of the contest where you breezed through the questions pertaining to Batman's dick, the mating habits of peanut butter and the origins of the international mashed potato wrestling league, you earned a set of life lines to help you answer the question of how much farts weigh. These life lines consist of one odorless Mr. Yuck sticker, a miniature golf scorecard autographed by Kirby Puckett's wife, a Blackberry with full internet capabilities and an empty mayonnasie jar sitting on an one of those old fashioned scales that they use to weigh boxers with. Which of these items is going to help you answer the question of how much a fart weighs in the time alotted, which I've just decided is ten American minutes? If you said the Mr. Yuck sticker, you're fucking creepy. If you said the Kirby Puckett mini golf scorecard, you're fucking creepier. If you said the $250 Blackberry cell phone with full internet capabilities and access to google, the world's fastest seach engine and foremost reference for information, you're just plain fucking dumb. Nope, under these cirmcumstances your best bet would be to weigh the mayonnaise jar, pull your dumpy butt out, rock a fart into the jar, weigh it, subtract the weight of the jar, turn your answer in to Rygor the Trivia Demon and then wave to all your friends spending eternity in his haunted slave pit because they opted to use their Blackberry in a trivia game with a set time limit.

Seriously, if I wanted to wait ten minutes for the internet to access www.wilfordbrimley.com I'd go to my parents house. In 1995.

Thursday, March 11, 2010

Porn Sites Need To Learn Subtlety

A wise 18th century novelist once said, "If you can't think of anything good to write, write about your dick."

If you have no interest in what type of porn I look at/peripherally come across, then I'd suggest you stop reading this right now.

For the rest of you, WHAT'S THE DEAL WITH PORNO SITES, EH?

Too much of a good thing results in a bad thing. We've all learned this on those childhood Easter mornings when we couldn't make it to church because we ate so much chocolate for breakfast that we spewed all over our dad's lap. Yet pornographers seem to miss this concept when they are filming their videos and taking their pictures.

It's difficult to find what you're looking for if you're not a weird fetishist who is into the most extreme end of what you're looking for. Searching for what you want becomes a science.

For example, if I'm interested in seeing an attractive woman in her underwear, I can't just do a google search for "attractive women underwear." This isn't disgusting enough for google to recognize. This search mostly results in sites that sell women's underwear. I have to throw the word "porn" in there somewhere. Now I'm faced with a different problem. When I search "attractive women underwear porn" I end up with the other extreme.

What is that extreme, you ask? Guys who want to fuck panties.

When did that become a thing?

When did we go from "I find this very attractive" to "I'm going to fuck the thing that makes this attractive?"

If you include the words "panties/underwear/etc.." and the word "porn" in your search, you end up with pictures and videos of girls wrapping their panties around a guy's schlong and jerking him off. Why do pornographers feel the need to have very little to absolutely no in-between? If I saw a girl in an attractive pair of jeans, it's still THE GIRL I'm attracted to. I don't want to rip her jeans off and fuck the pocket.

The same thing happens with ASS. You can't search for "nice ass." This is probably because everyone's interpretation of "nice ass" is different. However, the majority of what you end up with is, again, the extreme. You have pictures of GIGANTIC asses, which are typically being fingered, fucked, and dildoed. Where is the hot girl with a little meat on the ass? Everything has to be huge and have a dick in it.

Cool your jets porno sites.

I'm not asking for much. Just give those who like straight-ahead screwing to find what we're looking for. Maybe we need to invent some new terms. I lobby that we start including the word "non-wonky" for all things that fall inside the realm of non-fetish, average size and height, porn. Then I can search "non-wonky women in underpants," and I won't end up with a leper orgy of women doing backflips onto a pile of jizzy underwear in the mountains.

Let's get back to our roots.


Monday, March 8, 2010

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

F'ed In The Arby's

These days, every asshole that owns a web site wants you to sign up for their newsletter. They'll even go so far as to try to trick you into subscribing by putting one of those annoying, pre-checked boxes before the Terms of Service agreement.

I would love to take time out of my week to read about the new upcoming fuck-face musician that is featured in this month's myspace newsletter, but I'm too busy with this Hulu newsletter and cleaning the onion rings out of my dick with a pipe-cleaner.

So you'd think that if someone was actually interested in signing-up for one of these e-mailing lists, without having to be fooled, it would be kind of a big deal. You may even want to send out an e-mail once in a while. You hear that, Arby's Extras?

I came home from work one day, and I WAS TIRED. I didn't want to think about making food, so I logged onto Arbys.com to see where the closest Arby's was located. I saw their promotional e-mail list that offered coupons and thought to myself, "I'm ready for this. I want these coupons." Sign-up came with a promise of regular coupons and deals that weren't offered to anyone else. So I signed up, got a coupon for free mozzarella sticks, went there, and enjoyed them.

"Hmm," I thought, "maybe they'll keep sending me these coupons and the next time I get lazy enough to eat here again, I'll have an array of coupons to pick from, or at the very least, have the same coupon."

No such luck.

Last night I didn't feel like doing a fucking thing, and decided to log-in to the e-mail account that I never use: the one that I gave to Arby's. As I unlocked the treasure chest of mozzarella and roast beef coupons, I found an entry form for a competition that Arby's put on two months ago... and that's it.

Arby's extras? You fucked up. There's nothing extra going on here.

So I picked up my shame and headed over to the stupid Arby's anyway, just to order off of the dollar menu.

"I'm gonna get some kind of deal out of this!" I screamed at the moon.

I ordered my "food" and sat down to listen to podcasts and eat. As I finished, I noticed that the paper place mat on the tray had some coupons on it. "Alright," I thought, "maybe Arby's isn't such a fucked up place after all. I'll leave with these five coupons, and maybe I'll use them later."

Then I read them.

'1 Cent off of a Beef n' Cheddar Combo'

'1 Cent off of a Market Trashwich Combo'

'1 Cent off of another fuck burger comboWHATTHEFUCK???'

Who the fuck do you think you are?

You make $5.01 combos, so you can shave that one penny off? Who is running this marketing campaign? I would have been better off not knowing that you went to the trouble of printing and distributing 1 cent coupons. Talk about a slap in the face.

That's like offering soup to homeless people just so you can pour it in their hair.

You fucked up, Arby's. Fucked Up.