Fuck being wingman

I think the only type of wingman I will ever again be is the "bad cop" when performing the "good cop / bad cop" method of getting a friend laid. That is worth it because it is one of the few times when I can publicly let my true colors fly. I can openly let her know that I thought she was hot until she turned around and I saw her fat armpits, lopsided boobs, that her fake tanner truely makes her look orange, and although she is not an acutal whore she was definately wearing a whore's uniform. Then I can proceed to let her know that i would still let her suck my dick if we went to do it right now. Finally, my friend, playing the part of a good hearted stranger, can then tell me to fuck off and leave her alone. Some pushing, a fake punch, and HURRAY! My friend gets laid.

The other night, after witnessing a friend get cockblocked by some chick's fat friend, I tried to help. He was already committed to talking to this girl, but he made the mistake of acknowledging that he knew me... bastard. So much for the little fun i get from being a wingman. Now i would like to clarify somethings:

To the girl i was talking to at the bar the other night:

1. You're fat
2. You're ugly
3. My friend was trying to get laid
4. He has not been laid in a while
5. Your friend was kinda of cute
6. In looking back, I am sure she really wasn't that cute other than the fact that she looked better when standing next to you as a reference.
7. I was playing wing man to prevent you from being a cockblock
8. I was very drunk
9. You were still fat and ugly
10. I didn't ask for your number because I didn't want it (reference points 1, 2, and 9 above)
11. I wouldn't let you touch my phone because you would type in your number, and since I am sure you were one of those people who believes your nauseating excessive obesity is a "disease," I really don't care to contract what ever fat/ugly sickness you have from my phone just in case there is an actual remote chance your ample gravitationl pull its not related to the crap food you eat without exorcising.
12. I gave you my number so I wouldn't make my friend look like a dick for having a dick friend.
13. Yes the number I gave you was wrong. That was intentional. That is why I wrote it on a piece of paper, so in case you called it right away to give me your number, your friend wouldn't know I was an actual asshole wingman until after my friend did horrible things to your friend's rectum.
14. Given the circumstances, you shouln't try and find me on facebook. I did not aprove you as a "freind" and blocked you from any communication because... well... it should be obvious to any person with a below average IQ.
15. Once blocked on facebook, don't try and find me on myspace either asking if I wanted to see you again. Again, I blocked you from any communication
16. I have added you on my hatespace page.

Surprise Cock-Fags!

New author being added. I'll keep his identity a secret as he has never told of the horrible, horrible things I have done to him in his sleep.

Blog note: It Tastes Like Burning's revival is a response to the overwhelming negative response most you had to my new social-networking site called "HateSpace." Here were the basics in my demented little mind:

- No friends on HateSpace, you only acquire enemies. List your beliefs, desires, and opinions. Wait for others to shit on your soul and return in kind.
- if you are caught having civil conversation, your account is deleted and pictures of child porn will be sent to your email along with FBI notification
- long-time users can obtain "Mortal Enemy" status with each other after years and years of abuse
- eventually you will reach "Hatfield and McCoy" level where your children will be forced to hate each other for generations to come
- finally, every other year (once i make millions at this) i will rent an island outside of U.S. jurisdiction on which users will be allowed to meet in person and fight to the death. rusty tools optional but encouraged.

"How do like that one, fuckhead?"

i hope you have retarded children

first of all, i'm not completely out of my mind:

www.salon.com/env/vital_signs/2009/02/19/autism_and_vaccines/

jim carey and jenny mccarthy, just fucking drop it. vaccinations do not cause autism. maybe if all our kids didn't get vaccinations everyone would be dead and the autism rates would plummet. the math works i guess. you fucking morons.

OMG WTF

this is from a great (albeit semi-religious) site called www.soulpancake.com



OFFENSIVE OR THE BEST MEDICINE?

Wednesday, April 1, 2009 - FEATURES

[SEE. THINK. TALK.]
Northy and Southy: Get ‘em while they last!
We hate to admit it, but sometimes, the best way to deal with the gut-wrenching, sick-to-your-stomach tragedies of life is to laugh at them. But after you see Northy and Southy, the World Trade Center tower plush dolls, you’ll probably disagree. They may be made of felt, but they are certainly not heartfelt—in fact, I think they trivialize the tragedy. And I’m sure there are more than a few of you considering sending the creator anonymous hate mail.

Before you do, consider this: The artist, Johnny Ryan, may have turned the cute and happy craft of creating soft, plush dolls into a statement on a major disaster, but at least these plushies aren’t for sale. I would argue that commemorative 9/11 plates, coins, T-shirts, and scrunchies are more offensive. They’re cashing in on death and destruction under the veil of being a “tribute.” Sure, these dolls are offensive, but at least the artist isn’t lining his pockets.

thanks a latte

weird story: stopped for coffee this morning a the neighborhood non-Starbucks, you know, keeping it local. lady behind the counter (always there) is especially nice this morning. and being nice required her to inform me that i had something in my hair - then proceed to insist on picking it out herself. maybe i'm just weird but i don't like strangers touching me that much. unless they're hookers - but then i'm paying and that's different. point is: what the hell else is this bitch putting her hands in at 7 a.m.?

related incident:
Saddle Ranch, Wednesday night. closing out my tab and bartender girl is clearly trying to flirt her way into a better tip. and she's doing a great job. right up until the point where she tried to do the cute bite of the corner of my debit card. as far as i'm concerned, my debit card is dirtier than any dollar bill in circulation. she may as well have licked a toilet seat in front of me. have fun with her Walker.

A new, reoccurring, segment

People I Hate #1

The fucking girl who seems to be in every one of my classes who is ALWAYS fucking sick. piles of tissue, the loudest cough on earth. but this is what does it for me: sucking down fucking cigarettes every time i walk outside. listen, i treat my body like a strip club as much as anyone but come on. REMEDY: get cancer already.



People I Hate #2

People who insist on eating smelly food in enclosed public places. 1 hour ago, Lardass Government Worker bitch could wait to get off the elevator to begin scarfing her reuben sandwich. I hope she choked after I got off.

Shut the fuck up. Where's my cocktail?

What the fuck are some of my friends going to do? I'm talking about the late 20's and 30 somethings who skipped college and have been working in the restaurant biz for the last decade. Summer is the slow time around here (any guesses?), and things are going to get worse. If you think you're broke now... Anyway, it seems that at least a certain % have decided to make a run to campus and enroll to pursue their long lost dream. Really, this is hilarious to me. Watch a tattooed, balding 28 year old hit on some 21 year-old by telling her he's getting his nutrition degree - and tell me that's not funny. The reality is this: college was an investment you should have made a long time ago. Instead of promising yourself that Thanks Daddy State will certainly accept you after 2 lovely years of community college at High School With Ashtrays, maybe you should get a real job.