Superbowl Outcomes

For the first time in my life, I am impatient to see grossly oversalaried douchebags play with their balls. I’m talking about the Super Bowl, of course. Why? Because I think I know the outcome of the game.

It all started when I was busy waxing my hot rod. to go off on a tangent, here’s some programming for those of you who read that last sentence.

#include <aboveparagraph>

{int dirtymind

10 print “I was busy waxing my hot rod”;

20 if 10 = dirty goto 40;

30 if 10 ≠ dirty, exec “read_on”;

40 int char: mind;

55 remove_from_gutter;

}

Anyways, I was waxing my hot rod, acting like a tough greaser, when a mysterious old creep shambles up to me. “Hey thar, sonny,” he said. “I gots a present for you.” I yelled at him and made a really bad Fat Albert joke. He then handed me a sports almanac from the future, allowing me to bet favorably on every sporting event up until the year 2045.

I churlishly tossed it into the back of my hot rod. Then Michael J.Fox made a daring hoverboard tunnel chase, causing me to drive into a pile of manure (which I hate). He absconded with the magazine. Dumbfounded at the loss of my potential fortune, I decided to go see “I Am Legend.”

There is still some hope left for me. In the movie, Hillary Clinton’s giant-eyed fish twin makes a news announcement. Underneath it is the outcome for the superbowl.

That’s right. The Giants will lose to the Patriots 23 to 7. I told my friends this, and after researching to find out what sport the Superbowl entails, I wagered a hefty sum of D n’ D gold pieces on it.

Got Patriots!

Dumb Things I Said

• On sporting events:

Me: When is the Super Cup going to be on?

My Friend: You idiot, it’s called the Mega Bowl!

• On programming languages: (I submitted this to bash.org)

Me: Binary is the hottest numeral system. It has bi right in the name!

Friend: Yeah, but hex is only one letter away from sex.

• On LOLcats:

Me: We already have LOLcats, but LOLdogs? There’s a lame ripoff if I ever saw one. If we don’t stop, we’ll have a complete LOLocaust.

•  On the refrigerator:

My Sister: Is there any more orange juice?

Me: Check in the…uh…um… food colderizer.

• On the One Red Paperclip guy:

Me: You know, there was this guy who had a red paperclip, and he…

Everyone in earshot: We KNOW.

Me: …and he traded it for a whole mess of crap and now it has gone to his head.

• On the Macbook Air:

Me: The MacBook Air presents a negative body image to me.

• On my mom:

Me: My mom could beat up your mom!

•  On Windows:

Me: In 2040, Windows ME will be a 40-year-old version.

Of Courses!

I have to got to school next year, which means we’re required to choose elective courses in about nine weeks. Sure, it seems a bit early to be worried about which classes I’ll take next year, but since nobody’s telling me what to do, I’ll have to decide for myself. My choices are:

• Computer Graphics 3
• Anatomy
• Creative writing/film studies
• Web development
• Dark Magic
• Sexology
• Sexonomy
• Steganography
• “That’s what she said”  jokes and when to say them
• Advanced Gorilla Wrangling
• Coming up with straight-to-DVD comedy movie titles that involve substituting the word “days” with “daze,” because really, it happens more often than it should
• AP Confusing Mathematics
• Photojournalism

These are just the ones I’m interested in. What do you suggest I take?

Nightmare on Desktop Street

You know in the beginning of Nightmare on Elm Street, where the girl is running away from Freddy and she gets slashed by him and wakes up to find that she was actually cut? That same thing kind of happened to me, except it was nothing like the movie at all.

In my dream, I was a bodybuilder. I could lift a weight a few times, and my muscles would swell to the size of large hams. They would deflate quickly, so I would have to pump myself up over and over again. In between muscle pumpings, I would pose in the mirror, looking baleful, yet in a suave, I-don’t-care, bad boy brattitude. I noticed there was a cluster of moles on my forearm. I panicked for some reason, and patted myself down to find any more new moles. There was a sizable lump on the inner part of my left thigh. I screamed expletives in fear, and decided that it had to come out, and it had to come out now. Using my macho self-mutilating will, I dug my fingers behind the tumor. The skin was surprisingly spongy, and I could feel it easily. I pushed my hand in as deep as it would go, then yanked the ball of flesh as hard as I could. It hurt like shit, but it was still attached. I felt it spring back into my leg. I grasped it a second time, trying to squeeze it to death. I was able to choke it for a bit, but it felt like a hot iron was goring my leg. I decided to give it one last try. I wrapped my right hand around the tumor as hard as I could, squeezed the tumor as if it were a stress ball, inhaled sharpl, and…

I woke up in pain. Throwing off my sheets, I saw my hand driven into my pants clasped around my left testicle, which was throbbing with pain.

I’m glad I didn’t make that final pull. Also, I’m now afraid to go to sleep, because I don’t want it to happen again.

Teeth Ledger

Good news, everyone! I’m going to get a full ten days off of school next week, due to a careful mix of holidays and dental work.

Bad news, everyone! I’m getting four teeth pulled. My dentist is a pretty nice guy, who I met a day ago. He recently lost his license, so he’s working  in an alley so he can feed his kids. He’s also out of anesthesia, but I’m letting him do it because I like to help out a small business. His pliers looked kind of rusty, but if I bring my own, I can get a discount!

My Favorite Words

I like words. I more than like them. Sometimes, I see words checking me out from across the bar, but I’m too shy to approach them. Here are some of my favorite words and their definitions, which I have admired from a distance. For some of them, I keep returning to the same dictionary, hoping that they will be there again and I can muster the courage to use them.

1. Canker- to become infested with erosive or spreading sores.
2. Bucolic- Idyllic, pastoral.
3. Pusillanimous- cowardly.
4. Brobdingnagian- humongonormousgantuan.
5. Avaricious- greedy.
6. Amaranthine- timeless.
7. Pulchritudinous- beautiful. Like my abs.
8.  Bombastic- inflated, pretentious.
9. Fandoodle- to gyp or con someone out of something. I think I made this one up.
10. Bacchanal-A drunken reveler. Sounds like my dad, but with less physical abuse.
11. Crux- a cross; vital, basic.
12. Ichor- blood of the gods
13. Gruntle-the opposite of disgruntle.
14. Tuchus- rear end, in a Jewish sense.
15. Catch-22- an illogical dilemma. I use it to describe various essays I am assigned. Compare the Houyhnhnms of Gulliver’s Travels to the mating patterns of the Deep-Sea Pantagonian Toothfish? What the fuck-a-dilly-dangle?
16. Weltanschauung- a perspective on the universe and humanity’s relationship to it.
17. Venerable- commanding respect because of age.
18. Archaic- Ancient. Like your mom!
19. Succumb- What you do to guys in the bathroom every Friday night. Ha-ha. It actually means “to give way to.”
20. Arboretum- A plot of land where trees are grown for display.

Spell ya later!

I Scored a 100%!

I am a good speller. An online test on a second-rate dating site proves it. It’s safe to say that I am the spellingest speller you ever spelled. Notwithstanding, I do make an effort to throw in a mistake or two every now and then. Why? For many reasons, and for even more raisins.

First, spelling is elitist. There. I said it. Spelling isn’t for everybody. There’s tons of people, namely every 10-year-old boy in America, who are diagnosed with a macabre and mentally razing disorder called dyslexia. It’s a morose world where up is pu, down is nodw, and only words like “a”and “I” are universally correct. As America, we refuse to phase these people out of society and force them to pull a Whoopi Goldberg and overcome dyslexia. Nope. Our country isn’t about to kick people to the curb just because they see words all weird-like. We give them equal opportunity, which means dumbing down the rest of the country. It’s sort of like how we have say “Happy Holidays.” I choose to give up my freedom of speech and make the occasional error in order to please the minority. Who knows? The kid who receives bad grades in school now may go on to appear on Star Trek and replace Rosie O’Donnell.

Secondly, I like to keep people guessing. You could be reading any one of my posts, marveling at the correctly-spelled words, when suddenly, a “recieved” hits you in the schnoz like an 800-pound kickboxing gorilla. Also, I like to make up my own words like fandoodle, or spellingest.

As a reformed grammar hammer, I try to mispell words as often as I can, without coming off as a retard. In that last sentence, I mispelled misspell. In that sentence, I misspelled misspelled.

Finally, OMG UR SO STOOPIB IF U DONT TINK MI GRAMMER IS PURRRFECT OLOLOLOL :):)

2008: A Space Oddessy

It’s the Newletide season again. You know what that means- New Year’s Resolutions. Normally I don’t make them, because I’m too cool for school. This year I will get all freaky-deeky and totally make them.

• I resolve to wear jeans every day of the year, just like last year.
• I’ll stop trying to be sarcastic when I know that I have no idea what to say. To prevent this, I’ll come up with suave new jokes, euphemisms, and colloquialisms to add to my repertoire.
•  I will say “wang-dang-doodle” twice as much as I did last year.
• I will stop listening to Daft Punk. Oops, broken already.
• I will use algebra in my everyday life, because I totally don’t do that already.
• In terms of my blog, I will get back to regularly not updating it.
• I will stop saying “wang-dang-doodle” so much.

McRap

Eons ago I wrote this rap about the horrors of McDonald’s. Today I found its use to be germane on Yahoo! Answers. Now I’m reviving it here. 50, Snoop, please call me before using this.

Yo sup fellas all eatin’ big macs,
they have enough fat for a heart attack,
yeah yeah yo sup, it ain’t no joke
They’ve got enough poison to make you choke.

Shop the shack, mac the the snack, snack the mac,
Ba-da-ba-ba-ba I’m lovin’ it, snackin’ it, smackin’ it,
Now I’m crappin’ it.
All beef patties special sauce, special cheese,
My cholesterol is enough to make me wheeze.

Heart failure, heart burn and atrophy too,
Big Macs are deadly, so I’m talkin’ to you
Super Size
Hurts my eyes
McDonald’s don’t commercialize
The deaths of Americans they contributize.

Fatness, bulge, oh-bee-sit-ee,
Sorry, no gastric bypass for me,
Mama don’t want her kids to die young
And fat in the playpen just ain’t no fun.

Ronald McDonald is a McFrankenstein
His choice of food is so not mine.
So if you plan on dying young,
Go ahead, gorge yourself, have some chubby fun,
But the next time you need some food really fast,
Go organic and you won’t be fat,
Live longer, be stronger, I urge you, please,
Don’t get your food from killer McD’s.

(c) The DT

You don’t need tattoos and disgusting body mods to be hardcore

If you’ve been to the internet as much as I have, you’ll agree with me that there are some sick people out there. The internet hasn’t made them sick, it just brings them closer to you. I’m sure you’re familiar with BMEzine (don’t venture too far into that site- you’ll start projectile vomiting and beg Jesus for the sweet release of death). BME is basically a web magazine that gives out free subscriptions- on the condition that you get a “body mod.” I do not denounce this site- but I think it and all it stands for is wrong.

Giant. Jump-roping. Jesus.

One tattoo is fine. Two tattoos are fine. Hell, even three. Getting a face tattoo- various diskings, and a permanent Dirty Sanchez just screams “attention whore.” Why would you even want a shit tattoo? It’s a joke that’s only popular with 5-year-olds, and it gets old after the first 3 times you use it.

I know what you may be thinking, “Wait, I don’t get inked to be an attention whore, I get inked to show my love for Metallica and NES games! I’m HxC!”

Funnily enough, you don’t have to look like Maori tribesman to be “hardcore”- you can do it in a non-permanent, non-revolting way.

• Become vegan. Not only can you be cool by not eating meat, dairy products, honey, or fetuses, you can also brag to random people on the street about how moral veganism is, and how you’re single-handedly saving the whole friggin’ planet.
• Become minimalist. See my post on the subject for further details.
• Be homeless. Even better than minimalism- no house at all! Oh, what’s the matter, Punk Monk? Not “brootal” enough to handle being a bum? Yeah, I didn’t think so.
• Fast and deprive yourself of sleep. Fasting gives your body time to clear away all of the weird shit that’s inside of it, and it makes you lose weight. Anorexic cheer-squad hopefuls are already one step ahead of you. Additionally, binge drink on the workahol and stay up late working after hours. Think about it- you normally have a 40-hour work week. Quit sleeping, and you’ll have 120 hours of weekday working wonder! It only works if you make hourly wage, but if you have excessive tattoos or scarifications, you’re probably a janitor already.
• Move to another country. Don’t pussy out by going somewhere that speaking English. Move to Bhutan or Sri Lanka, where you’d be too stupid to grasp the dialect. Buying groceries is way more challenging than having a brass knuckle implanted under your skin.

Genius, I know. Instead of being a wrinkly old smudge when you’re old, you can recant tales to your grandkids of how you used to live in a cardboard box with three other people, which is way better than being a fat chick with a grammatically incorrect slogan for a shitty computer company inscribed on your arm.

Note: There has been a recent influx of tattooed twats (”twattoos”?) who have made it their personal mission to preach my breach until I decide to change my opinions. Since I don’t want to waste my time or the time of these highly intelligent tattooed businessmen, I’ve closed the comment section.

In fact, fuck it. If these people are going to take the time to bust their vaginas over something stupid that a whiny nobody said on the internet (because heaven forbid some guy on the vast and diverse internet disagrees with you), then I’ll reward them by giving them the satisfaction of thinking their right. Tattoos are cool, and there are no better ways to use your hard-earned tattooed businessman money than by willingly getting a scar that will become disfigured if you lose weight or get old.