Lying, Smiles, and Explosions also I found 5 dollars

I am a dirty dirty liar. But you like that don’t you. Oh yeah. Dirrrrrty. What? Oh. Sorry. Well, like I said, I am a liar. I promised, PROMISED all my many readers that I would post a real post last week but I didn’t. I am the worst person in existence. Throw me into the fire! Time to meet goat man and eat a salad. To bad the internet has no accountability! HA! Jokes on you, internet. Pssh, you think you are so high and mighty but you are just as full of inanity as the rest of us! (I would never be inane.)

Well, to make up my last unfulfilled promise I shall make ANOTHER unfulfilled promise! Promises for everybody! Woo. I have decided to pick a single day of the week to always update on, weekly! Do I know which day? No. I don’t. Stop asking. YOU ARE SO NEEDY.  Expect either Tuesday, Thursday, or Sunday. Actually, don’t expect anything, and then you will never be disappointed and can go back to your empty, fruitless life infront of your computer as you dream about one day owning your own zucchini plantation. (Maybe that’s just me. Must be the asbestos.)

As penance for my sin I decided that I would shave my head and go live on a farm for 3 years. But I’m not going to do that, because that is a really extreme punishment for not updating a blog, and you people need to calm down. Seriously. Instead I’m going to lie some more. Actually, I’m going to expose my lies to the world! (The portion of it that reads this anyway.)

That guy is not me. It’s just a picture I found on the internet. Try googling “super hot sex-god looking away from camera in a sharp vest that makes him trim and masculine at the same time and makes all the ladies say ‘ahhhh’ yet also denotes his superior intelligence and wit and has a sensitive face that knows what you are feeling and makes you feel comfortable just being yourself” and you’ll find just that picture! (Maybe)

There is no such thing as hats. They don’t exist. They are just an illusion propagated by the French-Canadians. Never trust a French-Canadian who is (apparently) wearing a hat.

ODSGJ actually does stand for something, I’m just not going to tell you what. It’s a secret. It adds to they mystery. I know you like ’em mysterious…

I’m not actually single. In fact, I have 30 girlfriends, who are all ok with me sleeping with 29 other people. And they all look like this:

I have no idea how to properly insert images into this blog, and cannot predict what the published post will look like. Probably weird. I should learn HTML.

I’m not going to.

The president is actually a blow up sex doll. That’s why Hilary was so upset when she lost. It was her doll after all!

I was never an adventurer like you, but I could have been, ’till I faked taking an arrow to the knee.

All your base are not belong to us. Sorry for the confusion.

Memes are not, in fact, funny. Now in light of that let’s sit back and watch the internet crumble. To ashes, Rome!

Finding 5 dollars at the end of stories actually does make them better. (And then I found 5 dollars)

All of your cellphone calls are being listened in on by Bill Murray. Yes, Bill Murray indeed. He is disappointed in you, Robert.

You were the 1,000,000th visitor, and you missed out on that trip to Hawaii. They were just going to GIVE it to you!

White chocolate is the only chocolate. Everything else has just been out too long. Don’t eat it. EW.

The sky is not blue. The sky is clear, obviously. It’s space that’s blue. The sun illuminates it. At night it’s dark so it looks black. Space is not a vacuum, but a big velvet sphere wrapped around the world, and stars are just holes that have been poked in it. As far as you know. 

I have three legs but no fingers. Typing is hard.

Right now you are looking a dense grouping of different colored lights and you are getting information from it that reminds you of molecules slamming into membranes inside of your head. And that means something to you. I think you should see a doctor.

Well, that’s all the truth-telling I can handle at the moment, considering that I am a pathological liar, which means I lie to pathogens. Always trying to get me, those pathogens. (Germs, pathogens are germs) Actually I think I’m allergic to truth. It makes uncomfortable, mostly because certain parts of my body have broken out in hives (feet). I hope you’re happy, making me do something like this, in public. Bastards.

As you all know, I have no problems. Mostly because I rarely leave my room, or experience social activities. (What are parties? Why do people keep talking about them when they can never seem to remember them? They sound awful) The closest thing I did the past week to a social outing was to go to dinner. On Valentines Day. With Ryan. You all may know Ryan, I’ve mentioned him before. His life is very difficult, mostly because he routinely makes bad decisions. Such as going out to dinner on Valentine’s Day with a man. A man’s man like myself. (Not a man’s man, cause would that be a man who likes men? Woman’s man then.) That brings me to a new segment called:


The first of his problems is that he doesn’t want his problem’s shared on the internet. Who wouldn’t want that? Only the best people are on the internet, they are all so nice and supportive of each other. However, because I’m not a terrible friend I must respect his wishes to the extent that I can deny everything because I am being vague. This will be good for him, I just know it. See, when it comes to Ryan’s problems I find myself coming up with brilliant tidbits of wisdom that need to be shared with the world. What a source of inspiration that guy is.

Always be honest with people, except when they ask you to be honest with them.

Because when they ask you to be honest they actually want you to lie, under the pretense of being honest which makes it an even worse lie. But its for their own good. Now, you might be thinking to yourself “Well this blog is somewhat satirical, how do I know that you are telling the truth?” but I’m here to tell you that there is no satire on this blog. All serious, all the time. Comfort people, people! You’re all terrible.

Sincerely, Buffalo buffalo buffalo Buffalo buffalo.


Smile, it’ll make you happier, because it will piss other people off.


MMM delicious.

Welcome back to late night I’m-not-doing-my-assignments-because-I’m blogging-blogging! That’s right, shit just got real. Have you ever been in one of those moods where you just feel super AWESOME and everything you type you read in your AWESOME VOICE? (yeah, you know that voice.) Well that’s where I am right now. And I’ve been text shouting phrases such as YOU COULDN’T SERVE ME WITH A SERVING SPOON in complete seriousness. Apparently, I always win. I guess I’m just a winner by nature. Winning, it’s not something you do, it’s something you ARE. So welcome to a post that is sure to be completely random and full of AWESOME WIN. (and boy is win delicious. It’s like cheesecake mixed with sunlight IN SPACE)



Some people get high on life, I HAVE SEX WITH IT


The above is only a snippet of the things I have been saying tonight. It’s ridiculous. Maybe I will post more later, but the feeling seems to be passing. I REFUSE TO APOLOGIZE.

Well, before I end this post I would like to share with everyone a new hobby of mine, which is to give extremely lengthy and ridiculous arguments against anyone I find acting obnoxiously on Facebook. I’m kind of a vigilante like that. Or maybe I just do it for fun. Whatever. Anyway, here is a recent snippet:

My Friend’s Status: I would like to formally congratulate Richard T. Wright as I present his work “Biology Through the Eyes of Faith” with the award “Most Boring Book Ever Written.”

I would also like to extend my condolences to the authors of “The Integration of Psychology and Theology,” John Carter and Bruce Narramore, who were so close to winning, yet had the sense to at least condense some of it.

Silly Comment: show me your pink undies!!!

Offending Comment: Please,  provide the antecedent of that pronoun and the context in which it was used.

You might want to be more careful about posting [superficially inappropo] comments like these, Mr. Silly Guy, that don’t immediately relate to peoples’ statuses, both on a moral level and as a matter of consideration.

My Response (be ready): Personally, I felt that the pink undies comment was a brilliant contrast to the overly immaculate writing of the books in the status and served to set off the boredom level of those works in such a way that they could be seen as highly inferior. In essence what his comment accomplished was astounding in it’s simplicity. For with a short, basic sentence and minimum content he was able to craft a scenario that is infinitely more intriguing and engaging than the precise texts referenced in the status. To elaborate would be to give too much away and take away from the reader’s ability to imagine the surrounding context, and would serve as an inferior contrast. In summary, the comment was neither unrelated nor is it inherently inappropriate. To deem it inappropriate is a reflection on the reader, who is adding additional meaning, rather than an intent on the part of the rider. “Pink Undies” is not inappropriate. Undies are clothing, thus not inappropriate, especially because they are not stated to be of a sexual nature, and it would be ridiculous to claim that all underwear is sexual. It is not. The writer did not even specify if the underwear was being worn or not. Therefore, there is nothing even remotely inappropriate about that comment, the only inappropriateness is inferred on the part of the reader, and is a reflection of his own mindset. I would also like to pose the question, Mr. Offender, why Mr. Silly Guy’s comment must be immediately related to the status, but your’s is exempt? Furthermore, I have already established that. Mr. Bower’s status was directly related to the status, yet your’s was not. The fact that it is a reprimand does not make it more allowable to be posted on this status, in fact, the opposite is true. If you sincerely wanted to reprimand Mr. Silly Pants so that he would not make the same mistake you would have sent him a private message. Instead you made the decision to post publicly. This only serves to unnecessarily shame Mr. Silly Dilly and to establish yourself as “a voice of reason”, which is rather self-serving, would you not agree? I then suggest that you have done something that is in fact morally wrong Mr. Jerk Face. I can only justify my own comment by stating that because Mr. Goofball was unwittingly forced to endure a public reprimand, he deserves a public defense.

Next Comment: ^^^ TROLL…

I realize that I’m probably even more obnoxious than the offender. But I don’t care. Because this is AWESOME.


An Internet Super-Hero

Christmas is the Devil

Yep. That' s what it is.    No it’s not. However it is an excuse. And everyone knows that excuses are the devil. But now I feel bad for saying that. Sorry God. You know I didn’t mean it. Also, experience has taught me that shocking or exceedingly strange post titles gain views. I think I have a ringer here.

So, here’s my apology, internet. I’m sorry it has been so long since I’ve garnered you with my supreme wit and insight. I know you have missed me. My excuse is Christmas, more accurately, that I’m home and have nothing to do all day. Which ironically does not lend itself to blogging. Mostly because I blog when I’m supposed to be doing something else that is probably more important. When my blog becomes my most important task well… lets just say I’m a procrastinator at heart. But here I am, giving a post on my musings of Christmas and New Years, and I have all sorts of other ideas too. Some of which may or may not find their way into this post. You know how I hate to stay on topic. Which reminds me. I love comments. Good or bad I will probably respond. And make you feel special I’m sure. (Please ignore my shameless pandering) At least I’m back to not posting before midnight. Whew. This way, I know I’m creative.

Ok, I promised some actual  content, so here it is, your basic, “these are my thoughts on Christmas”. First, if you don’t celebrate Christmas, that’s great! Happy *your specific winter holiday*. Please, tell me what it is so that I can wish you a happy *insert specific holiday here* instead of just lumping it with all the other holidays. That’s just rude. Do you really thing Ramadan and Chanukah hang out? Maybe, but that’s beside the point. (I hear Ramadan is really wild) What I’m saying is, don’t take offense for being wished the wrong holiday, thank them for trying to be specific. Jeez. People are so sensitive these days. It’s like they keep a list of things that “personally offend them” and they all have a contest to see who can have the largest list. That’s why I use a 72pt font for mine. Winning, like always.

I love Christmas, it’s true. I know it may seem like I hate everything and am secretly a psychopathic genius, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love Christmas. It’s so great, and I don’t find it stressful at all. I know a lot of people do though, so here are some tips for a stress free Christmas (for next year? I guess. I hope you can remember.) The initial stressor is always gifts. People think it’s because they can’t find the right thing, but it’s because they aren’t looking for the right thing. They are looking for an awesome thing. Which is just really unrealistic. Space shuttles, explosions, naked women, drugs, Sufjan Stevens, warm underpants, and world peace are all awesome, but for various reasons don’t make for practical gifts. (I wish. mmmmmm. Explosions.) So what you should do is find the right gift. The right gift being any gift that shows you actually put some thoughts into said recipients interests. Which is actually quite easy. My brother has been successfully giving his friends fruit for years, because it’s some weird inside joke. (true story). So there, gift giving made easy.

Because it is an explosion.

Not a good gift.



The other stressor is trying to make Christmas perfect. It’s not going to be, so stop trying. Seriously. STOP. Instead, trust it. Make plans, but DON’T BE SO UPTIGHT. Let things happen. It will probably still be awesome if the turkey is done 20 minutes late and Uncle Jermaine is passed out on the floor. Draw Christmas trees on his face. It’s festive. The nice thing about Christmas is that people group up, whether planned or not. And when people get into groups awesome things happen. Look at riots. Nothing more awesome than flipping cars, then lighting everything on fire. Tell me you don’t want to have a Christmas Riot photo album. Bucket list, you have been added to. (Is that atrocious grammar? I think so. And my professors would hate all these parenthesis) So people, just be ready for Christmas to happen, and go along for the ride.

Also, I suggest serving your undercooked turkey Christmas evening, not Eve, so they get salmonella the day after Christmas, which sucks anyway.

Now to New Year’s. I didn’t have a whole lot to say about it, except that I find it exceedingly ironic that it is a holiday dedicated to poor decisions (parties) and making better ones (resolutions). It makes no sense. But that’s ok, who doesn’t love a good paradox? On that subject, I think poor decisions are awesome ones. (another paradox, yay!) Mostly because they are much more fun and make for way better stories. Except people always try to brag with those stories. And it is so annoying. Stop. Just be boring. Let better people be interesting. Like me. Awesome story though. Jerk.

Anyway, Christmas is awesome so, in your face. (Also, I’ve decide New Years might be better if I can remember it in the morning. That means no more self roofying I guess…)


Dying for someone to ask me what the heck the title of this blog means. I mean seriously, how is it not killing you guys?


PS While my picture on my blog is super sexy, it’s much too serious. So if anyone has any ideas for a better picture (also a background for the title) please leave a comment. SERIOUSLY.


I am a danger to humanity. Or at least self-esteem.

Well as I “promised” (I did no such thing) here’s another post. I hope it lives up to your ridiculous expectations. You people are just so needy. Moving on I have prepared (not really, because that would require forethought) a lovely post about why people’s lives make terrible stories. That’s not this post. In fact, I’m not sure why I even mentioned it. I’m just setting myself up for some unfulfilled promises and disappointed fans. Good thing fans blow (literally). So here’s a brief story demonstrating why I shouldn’t be allowed outside, and makes me wonder why I have friends.

(My friend Ryan is wearing a coat he bought for his brother for Christmas. Also, he bought his own coat as well, he just refuses to wear it. I don’t know why. He’s stupid. Anyway, this is me asking about it)

me: I see you are wearing your brother’s coat again.

Ryan: Yes I am. I think I might just wear it when I get off the plane home!

me: You don’t really understand how gifts work, do you.

Ryan: Well we all know you like the fat coat better.

me: The one that isn’t hideous? You’re a bean pole.

Ryan: And I’m embracing it!

me: Stop it.

Ryan: So encouraging.

me: I’m encouraging you to change yourself for the better, obviously. Sometimes I don’t think you realize just how good of a friend I really am.

Ryan: I hate you.

me: Please. You’re so skinny African orphans want to give you food.

(at this point he stopped talking to me. I have no idea why. It’s not like there were any african orphans in this room.)


(parenthesis are ((impossible) to (o)veruse))


PS: Now that I’m actually studying I will probably be even more bored. Just so you know.