<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788</id><updated>2011-08-01T11:38:46.655-07:00</updated><category term='alec sucks'/><category term='horrible'/><category term='why do i always lose pens'/><category term='feminist'/><category term='dog soccer?'/><category term='fuck semantics'/><category term='lawn ornaments'/><category term='angry rant'/><category term='soccer'/><category term='NEVER AGAIN CORN'/><category term='prefacer'/><category term='world cup 2010'/><category term='soccer dog'/><category term='Preface'/><category term='bullshit'/><category term='axe body spray'/><category term='nimesh&apos;s severed hand'/><category term='dirty glass doors'/><category term='order same shit at restaurants'/><category term='toilet seat up'/><category term='something about mary'/><category term='tiny dogs'/><category term='football vs soccer'/><category term='mario lopez'/><category term='tease'/><category term='eff you you&apos;re talking about it'/><category term='bottle clink'/><category term='lawlbster'/><category term='racist'/><category term='button fly'/><category term='tag body spray'/><title type='text'>Do you know what pisses me off?</title><subtitle type='html'>take a little maddox, a little family guy, maybe some carlin, and shove it.  it's nothing like any of those. at all. if you think it is, well i hate you.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>19</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-4953605453217490981</id><published>2010-07-19T09:06:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-20T09:25:27.725-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Revolutionary War Tactics - really?</title><content type='html'>&lt;i&gt;It's the summer of 1778.  The war for the independence of the United States is raging in the states around you.  You, a young lad at the tender age of 16, can barely pull your own weight as a farmhand, much less a soldier. But it doesn't matter. America needs your help- nay, potentially your LIFE- in order to lay the foundations of a free society- freedom from foreign rule, freedom from taxation without representation, freedom from religious oppression.  You KNOW you can make a difference for your place of birth.  You disregard the pleas from your family. You enlist immediately.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;You arrive to the training camp, full of enlistees like yourself.  You've shot a rifle before - no big deal, how else are you supposed to eat meat in the 18th century?!?!  You begin your first lesson in battlefield tactics.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Instructor: You will be in infantry, where you will learn to march in formation, and engage the redcoats.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;You: YEAHHHH KILL 'EM REDCOATS.  What are we going to do, hide and try to camouflage ourselves in the trees and fields to catch them by surprise?  Or maybe ambush their supply lines and pick them off!  Or maybe we can get a couple sharpshooters and take positions in key areas where the Redcoats are coming and harass them until they lose morale?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Instructor: Actually no.  We march up to the enemy until we're about 100 feet away from each other, then we trade volleys.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;You: What?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Instructor: Yeah, we go on a battlefield with like thousands of soldiers, then we march up until we're like pretty close to each other, then we shoot each other.  Then we reload, and shoot again.  We make sure we're in a perfect line though while we're shooting, though.&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;You: Um, LOL? What about cover?&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;Instructor: What's cover? &lt;/i&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;----------&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;I love war movies.  If you're a dude, you like war movies.  Especially if they involve&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;killing imperial Brits&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;killing racist rednecks&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;However, I just get really confused when i see scenes like this (taken from what I understand to be historical war footage)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/BZBtVBh9Ok0&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;start=80"&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/BZBtVBh9Ok0&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;start=80" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Are you fucking kidding me?  Apparently people fought with "honor" back then, and everyone followed these specific rules where you're supposed to just stand there and trade fire.  What's better?  there are cannons.  That's right.  So not only are you standing STILL out in the OPEN trading fire with someone else, you're being shot at with fucking cannonballs.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;You want to know what's even funnier? So a little tangential, but if you remember from Forrest Gump, when Tom Hanks meets Lt. Dan for for the first time in Vietnam, Gump salutes him.  Lt. Dan immediately replies:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;blockquote&gt;"Oh, get your hands down.  Do not salute me.  There are goddamn snipers all around this area who'd love to grease an officer."&lt;/blockquote&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Guess what happened when you were promoted in the 18th century?  Not only did you get to have more fucking FEATHERS to put in your cap, but - get this - the red on your coat was even BRIGHTER!  It was like a fucking pageant!&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/TEXCVFC4uGI/AAAAAAAAAIY/lHmYoftaMPM/s320/Wellingtons33rd.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5496012587662882914" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 232px; " /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;Why fight smart when you can fight &lt;/span&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;fabulously&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="font-size:small;"&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-4953605453217490981?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/4953605453217490981/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=4953605453217490981' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/4953605453217490981'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/4953605453217490981'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2010/07/revolutionary-war-tactics-really.html' title='Revolutionary War Tactics - really?'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/TEXCVFC4uGI/AAAAAAAAAIY/lHmYoftaMPM/s72-c/Wellingtons33rd.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-1932547606755732169</id><published>2010-06-30T08:53:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T14:47:02.001-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='football vs soccer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='world cup 2010'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='fuck semantics'/><title type='text'>It's Soccer. and Football. GET. OVER. IT.</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;So the World Cup is here.  You know, the once-in-4-years event that stops wars, brings ravaged countries together, and the only time where Americans actually "care" about soccer.  Yeah, the sport that every other country plays as it's #1 sport, except for 'mericuhhh (FUCK YEA). Fortunately for myself, since I am a worldly man, I am well versed in this sport, and therefore my opinions expressed are 100% correct (quick reminder for those who somehow forgot).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;Of course, because Americans hates foreigners and foreigners hate us, the soccer/football argument ALWAYS has to come up. Wahh wahh that's not real football wahh wahh why do you call it soccer?!?! I will currently put both you groups of fucks in your place.  THIS IS NOT AN ARGUMENT IN WHICH SPORT IS BETTER.  I ENJOY THEM BOTH EQUALLY.  YOUR MOTHER IS A WHORE.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So the whole argument stems from here-&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 238); -webkit-text-decorations-in-effect: underline; "&gt;&lt;img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/TCtsw70G0FI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2LBpSv0XhXE/s320/footballhandegg.jpg" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5488600158826844242" style="display: block; margin-top: 0px; margin-right: auto; margin-bottom: 10px; margin-left: auto; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 229px; " /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;Okay, fair enough.  LOGICALLY it makes sense.  As a REASONABLE human being, I can see why calling it football, like 99% of the rest of the world does, makes sense.  Which is why, even though I'm American, I don't lose sleep when I hear soccer being referred to as football.  Will I do it?  No.  But if you're being a douchebag and you say "STFU LOL YOU CANT EVEN USE YOUR HANDS IN SOCCER THAT'S NOT REAL FOOTBALL" without realizing your immediate logical fallacy, you, my friend, have been dropped as a child.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;On the other hand, it is called soccer not because Americans decided to sit around in the early 1900s and say "Hey, lets call it something completely different than what everyone else is calling it!  Hey what's a fucking really random ass word? How's bout soccer? LOL"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;The term came from the fact that football, before there were official rules that determined the game, had different types- RUGBY football, ASSOCIATION football, etc.  Guess what?  The British decided to shorten association football to ... SOCCER, which is why a bunch of former British colonies refer to it as soccer.  Don't believe me?  go see how "Australian football" is played.  And you know what their association football mascot is?  the SOCCEROOS.  Fuck you you elitist foreigners, questioning why we call it soccer.  It's because you're a piece of shit.&lt;span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span"  style="color:#0000EE;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="color: rgb(0, 0, 0); "&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;So fuck this semantics argument bullshit.  If you argue about semantics then you're fucking retarded.  "I understand that the subway in England is called the metro, but I can't fucking grasp the simple concept that soccer outside the US is called football, and that American football is referred to as Gridiron!!! I think I might actually be fully retarded!!!"&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-1932547606755732169?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/1932547606755732169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=1932547606755732169' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/1932547606755732169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/1932547606755732169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2010/06/its-soccer-and-football-get-over-it.html' title='It&apos;s Soccer. and Football. GET. OVER. IT.'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/TCtsw70G0FI/AAAAAAAAAIQ/2LBpSv0XhXE/s72-c/footballhandegg.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-1404193659657526453</id><published>2010-05-24T09:42:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-24T09:42:43.912-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Preface'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='prefacer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='racist'/><title type='text'>Here's to you, prefacer</title><content type='html'>Alright, here's the deal.  People have opinions.  I get it.  Usually if  I'm talking to you, I assume anything you're saying is an opinion,  unless otherwise stated as such (usually denoted with "I read in the  news today..." or "This study actually shows...".  Unfortunately "Oh  yeah my buddy's cousin's third wife's friend's half retarded step-son  read something like..." does not count).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But take the prefacers.   They want to make SURE you understand it's their opinion in case you  didn't get it the first time, because you know, making assertions  apparently needs a warning.  But just looking at it at a purely  objective standpoint, when was the last time someone started to say  this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want to sound racist, but..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;without  saying something incredibly racist?  i.e.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I don't want to sound  racist, but Asians look WEIRD."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hell, I can pretty much tell you  exactly how you are when you use these phrases.  Let me show you a  couple of examples:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ul&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I don't want to be a dick..." - Holy  shit you are a dick the size of a gorilla's arm&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"No offense,  but..." - Holy shit are you making fun of Jews??? WHILE WATCHING  SCHINDLER'S LIST?!?!?&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Not to put anyone down or anything,  but..." - JESUS CHRIST dude, that guy was retarded!!! Why are you making  fun of him??&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"Not to call out anyone, but..." - Wow dude,  you just literally went up to that guy and slapped him with your penis&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;"I  don't want to generalize, but..." - Oh man that's totally  understandable.  OH WAIT NO IT ISN'T.  YOU JUST CALLED ALL BLACK PEOPLE  STUPID.&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ul&gt;Look, I understand the idea of prefacing, so that  you'll get less hate for the absolutely moronic statement you're about  to make.  But it doesn't preclude you from criticisms.  Fuck dude, if  you said&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not racist, but why can't spics find real jobs?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;in  front of a crowd of hispanics, their first response won't be "Hey, he's  not racist!'&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-1404193659657526453?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/1404193659657526453/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=1404193659657526453' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/1404193659657526453'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/1404193659657526453'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2010/05/heres-to-you-prefacer.html' title='Here&apos;s to you, prefacer'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-4024658730847194275</id><published>2010-04-02T09:15:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-08T09:47:40.471-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='why do i always lose pens'/><title type='text'>Fucking Pen Time Warp or something</title><content type='html'>My. Pens. Disappear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's incredible.  Working in an office job has its advantages- unlimited office supplies.  This helps a lot, for sure.  But for SOME FUCKING REASON whenever I refill my work bag with 3 pens, by the end of the week they are ALL gone.  This is what I imagine is going on here:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S7YdbnvHQzI/AAAAAAAAAHY/oH9kQaSEsn4/s1600/bermuda_triangle_blog.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 344px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S7YdbnvHQzI/AAAAAAAAAHY/oH9kQaSEsn4/s400/bermuda_triangle_blog.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5455580358966199090" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;HOW DOES MY BAG AFFORD THESE PLANE TICKETS&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously, what the eff?  I must have gone through at least 3574 pens this year.  It's not like they show up like a week later underneath some books or sheets of paper like I usually find my misplaced food.  It's just EVERY TIME I have to write something down, the pens are just GONE.  Missing. Never to be seen again.  Then I have to borrow a pen from somebody ELSE, which I inevitably slobber all over (okay it's a bad habit, go fuck yourself).  I mean nothing bad really happens here, it's just an inconvenience that I have to ask another human being for something I should already have THREE of.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Motherfucking pen blackhole bermuda triangle thievery bullshit piece of shit pens&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-4024658730847194275?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/4024658730847194275/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=4024658730847194275' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/4024658730847194275'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/4024658730847194275'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2010/04/fucking-pen-time-warp-or-something.html' title='Fucking Pen Time Warp or something'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S7YdbnvHQzI/AAAAAAAAAHY/oH9kQaSEsn4/s72-c/bermuda_triangle_blog.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-2949911736903203962</id><published>2010-01-29T12:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-01-30T21:41:41.927-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Umbrellas</title><content type='html'>Umbrellas.  Fuck umbrellas.   People may say that my anger here is misplaced, that I should be angry at the weather.  Guess what? I can't do shit about weather, whereas umbrellas are man made and man used, and definitely a bane in my fucking existence.  Not only are they easier to lose than the anal virginity of a newly introduced prison inmate, as a mildly above average height male, THEY DON'T FUCKING WORK.   I'm currently in a rage comic mode, so again I defer to these two situations (click for larger images).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2NdobC-tdI/AAAAAAAAAGU/0ZSIsZKSPgc/s1600-h/umbrella.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2NdobC-tdI/AAAAAAAAAGU/0ZSIsZKSPgc/s400/umbrella.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432288524575356370" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2Ndl8FTooI/AAAAAAAAAGM/4wSMdM7b-1c/s1600-h/umbrella1.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2Ndl8FTooI/AAAAAAAAAGM/4wSMdM7b-1c/s400/umbrella1.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432288481903878786" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Umbrella? More like &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;umbrHELLa&lt;/span&gt;!  &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;AMIRITE&lt;/span&gt;?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Shitty ass umbrellas. You know what we (read "I") should use instead? bubbles.  That's right.  Those fucking bubbles that sick kids use when they can't be exposed to germs.  And my bubble would be made of solid &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;badass&lt;/span&gt; titanium.  Why? because not only would I be as dry as a post-op &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;tranny&lt;/span&gt;, I'd get to run over your big-umbrella-carrying stupid midget ass.  What, you say? I won't be able to see? that's because I WON'T NEED TO.  And I'll still be dry, &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;bitchass&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2NS6g2hPJI/AAAAAAAAAFs/d9KTStQsoec/s1600-h/indiana_boulder.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 412px; height: 285px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2NS6g2hPJI/AAAAAAAAAFs/d9KTStQsoec/s320/indiana_boulder.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5432276740743445650" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;It will not be dissimilar to this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-2949911736903203962?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/2949911736903203962/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=2949911736903203962' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/2949911736903203962'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/2949911736903203962'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2010/01/umbrellas.html' title='Umbrellas'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/S2NdobC-tdI/AAAAAAAAAGU/0ZSIsZKSPgc/s72-c/umbrella.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-57166876649410428</id><published>2009-12-28T17:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T21:03:52.707-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='NEVER AGAIN CORN'/><title type='text'>why aren't my fucking  gums fused to my teeth?</title><content type='html'>As I type this, I sit before you in immense displeasure.  On a beer pick up run, I found myself in the greatest store chain in New Jersey - Bottle King.  As I enter the magnificent establishment I encounter these never before seen &lt;a href="http://www.karibafarms.com/"&gt;Kariba Farms&lt;/a&gt; "Corn Crisp" bags in Texas BBQ flavor. Immediately I purchase these obviously delicious treats, questioning what I'm doing at a liquor store in the first place. I can't even begin to describe to you how good it looked, and for some mentally challenged reason they don't have this product listed on their website.  So I'm just going to show you this picture:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SzldwnyNXdI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ssHBpfKMlYk/s1600-h/awesome.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 340px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SzldwnyNXdI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ssHBpfKMlYk/s400/awesome.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420466716411780562" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Basically this snack is dried cooked corn kernels seasoned with the best junk food seasoning in the world: BBQ (although jalapeno is fast taking it's spot).  I am thoroughly devouring this treat when all of a sudden I feel a pressure on my gums.  Then I black out and have a flashback:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SzloyJ3fkNI/AAAAAAAAAFk/Wo913mKYfYU/s1600-h/fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px; height: 303px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SzloyJ3fkNI/AAAAAAAAAFk/Wo913mKYfYU/s400/fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5420478837368525010" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fucking hate when this happens&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Apparently, cooked corn gets lodged in your gums just like fucking popcorn.  Yeah, that fucking unpopped portion of the kernel that penetrated that tiny, tight gap between your tooth and your gum.  You know what I'm talking about.  You better know what I'm talking about.  This pain is NOT my own.  Now excuse me while I attempt to furiously dig my gums out with a spoon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img src="file:///C:/Users/Victor/AppData/Local/Temp/moz-screenshot.png" alt="" /&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-57166876649410428?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/57166876649410428/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=57166876649410428' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/57166876649410428'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/57166876649410428'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2009/12/why-arent-my-fucking-gums-fused-to-my.html' title='why aren&apos;t my fucking  gums fused to my teeth?'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SzldwnyNXdI/AAAAAAAAAFU/ssHBpfKMlYk/s72-c/awesome.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-7737880863339975488</id><published>2009-08-10T17:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-12-15T07:54:20.543-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='nimesh&apos;s severed hand'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bottle clink'/><title type='text'>bottle clink</title><content type='html'>The bottle clink trick.  Oh man. This is just awful.  I don't know who found out that tapping a bottle on top of another bottle would make it fizz, but way to go man.  Not only are you forcing someone to attempt to drink (you facist) you're making an unnecessary mess that you probably won't clean up (you uh... republican? oh yeah I just went there).  I wonder what the thought process is in order to actually do such a heinous thing to an unsuspecting person. Friendly joking around? or a 2000 year old torture?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;True story:  A buddy of mine was drinking a bottle of the finest malt liquor, and someone he knew wanted to give him a surprise.  What happened?  My buddy had this "trick" performed on the beverage he was holding.  The "surprise" was shattered glass in his fucking hand.  That's right, if you didn't know force + glass = SHATTERED PAINFUL DANGEROUS SHARDS THAT WILL CUT YOU WORSE THAN AN EMO GANGSTER.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/29018.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 254px; height: 170px;" src="http://images.buycostumes.com/mgen/merchandiser/29018.jpg" alt="" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;This is directly the result of the beer bottle clink.  Not at all of some random "bloody hand" google image search.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what this tells me about you? that you're a douchebag who wants to get someone drunk, but also that you can't get someone drunk without a cheap trick.  Do you know how easy it is for you to get someone to take a drink?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey dude, you're have a giant floppy vagina if you don't take this drink.&lt;br /&gt;Dude: WTF IM A MAN WHY ARE YOU QUESTIONING MY MANHOOD&lt;br /&gt;Me: Because you're a girl.  Take this drink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: Hey dude, you're have a giant floppy vagina if you don't take this drink.&lt;br /&gt;Girl: I'm a girl.&lt;br /&gt;Me: HOLY SHIT i thought you were a guy. Take this roofie coolada?&lt;br /&gt;Girl: What?&lt;br /&gt;Me: Coolada?&lt;br /&gt;Girl: Oh I LOVE Cooladas!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What, you can't string together a couple of coherent sentences or something? Notice girls never do it.  It's because they can get anyone at any time to take a drink.  and if they do perform this douchebaggery of a trick, then theyre just giant bitches.  You might know of them, ya douchenozzle.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-7737880863339975488?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/7737880863339975488/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=7737880863339975488' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/7737880863339975488'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/7737880863339975488'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2009/08/bottle-clink.html' title='bottle clink'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-2669447017660887187</id><published>2009-02-19T08:44:00.001-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-19T09:24:03.979-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soccer'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tease'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='eff you you&apos;re talking about it'/><title type='text'>YOU DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT??!?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div align="left"&gt;So i rediscovered a passion that i had not revisited since high school - Soccer. Soccer is flipping awesome.  Anyone who says otherwise is a dbag and doesnt understand anything.  Its the ultimate team game, gets you into the best shape you could be, and has none of the mentally challenged stops that many of the other games do. Don't try the bullshit soccer is for pussies and then compare it to American Football, because thats like comparing football to basketball, but infinitely more stupid. You're an idiot.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div align="left"&gt;So i recently played on my friend's co-ed league for a game, and it was really fun. So while i was taking to one of my female buddies to see if she liked soccer, i get this response:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No. traumatic experience in eighth grade. I don't want to talk about it."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5304557301983124018" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 292px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SZ2SwutomjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Qw-xki6HNzE/s320/orly_owl.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p align="center"&gt;HE STRIKES AGAIN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seroiusly? Cmon.  Not only are you going to give a bullshit vague "no," you're adding the worst teasing line ever- "I don't want to talk about it."  You're not doing the usual "For me to know and you to find out," which is almost as douchey, but at least you KNOW you could possibly get it out sometime in the near future.  "I don't want to talk about it" gives the information that I am injustly being left out on a shield of untouchableness.  I mean, cmon, i can't ask after that.  It's obvoiusly something bad, and I dont want to be that guy who delves in too deep into your life, just to find out that during a soccer game while you were 12, a horse ran onto the field to violate you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, obviously that would be the best story i've ever heard, but damn if I were to look like a total dbag finding it out.  I gotta look after my social image too, you know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-2669447017660887187?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/2669447017660887187/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=2669447017660887187' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/2669447017660887187'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/2669447017660887187'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2009/02/you-dont-want-to-talk-about-it.html' title='YOU DONT WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT??!?!'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SZ2SwutomjI/AAAAAAAAAFA/Qw-xki6HNzE/s72-c/orly_owl.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-1499403800630864853</id><published>2008-11-15T16:23:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T16:28:18.969-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Tangled Cords</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SR9oIHA0TVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/YsAl33juJ90/s1600-h/tangle.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 217px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SR9oIHA0TVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/YsAl33juJ90/s320/tangle.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5269044577577487698" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;WHY DOES THIS HAPPEN? WHY DO I WASTE 10 MINUTES UNTANGLING CORDS  THAT WERE PERFECTLY TIED?  WHAT IS THE 2ND LAW OF THERMODYNAMICS???&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-1499403800630864853?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/1499403800630864853/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=1499403800630864853' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/1499403800630864853'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/1499403800630864853'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/11/tangled-cords.html' title='Tangled Cords'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SR9oIHA0TVI/AAAAAAAAAE4/YsAl33juJ90/s72-c/tangle.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-813493789874076978</id><published>2008-11-13T21:52:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T22:19:11.484-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Everything? Orly?</title><content type='html'>Music is a pretty big interest of mine.  I think internet radio and satellite radio are the best things ever to happen for my ears, because honestly without them, I know for sure my ipod would have only 3 songs on it.  So when someone brings up music, I'm pretty open/interested in striking up a conversation about it.  The only problem is that the conversation usually goes like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Me: You like this song? What sort of music do you listen to?&lt;br /&gt;You: ME??? LOL I LIKE EVERYTHING :D!!!!!1111&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SR0TqPpRW4I/AAAAAAAAAEw/kKvjPu8-vDc/s1600-h/orly.jpeg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 292px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SR0TqPpRW4I/AAAAAAAAAEw/kKvjPu8-vDc/s320/orly.jpeg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5268388755568417666" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:85%;"&gt;Little known fact: I am actually in fact an animorph&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;You like everything? Really? That's the biggest bullshit response I've ever heard in my whole life.  You don't like everything.  I guarantee you if I played a random ass song off my playlist right now you'd be like "wow this song sucks."  I'd obviously have to punch you in the face, but that will only add to the other black eye I gave you for answering "everything."  Just because you heard T-pain speak like a robot on the #1 HIT STATION doesn't mean you like hip hop.  Or just because you heard the 3rd grade lyrics of Nickelback doesnt mean you like rock.  Fuck that.  I hate you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-813493789874076978?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/813493789874076978/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=813493789874076978' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/813493789874076978'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/813493789874076978'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/11/everything-orly.html' title='Everything? Orly?'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SR0TqPpRW4I/AAAAAAAAAEw/kKvjPu8-vDc/s72-c/orly.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-18991044424356042</id><published>2008-09-23T12:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-23T13:18:01.775-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lawn ornaments'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='horrible'/><title type='text'>Lawn Ornaments</title><content type='html'>So for the last couple of weeks I got to go down to the town of Ft. Washington, PA.  I was driving around the local neighborhood after work, looking for deer to run into on my free time, when my GPS decides to completely crap out on me, and bring me to a closed road.  Fine, whatever, it's not the first time technology did exactly the opposite it was supposed to do.  So after I reprogrammed the screen to play Entourage episodes that I havent seen yet, I decided to make a U-turn and attempt to retrace my steps.  I pull into the driveway of a home to make said U-turn, and BAM&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SNlOjiqTxdI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ci9vfxO000A/s1600-h/2630-b.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SNlOjiqTxdI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ci9vfxO000A/s320/2630-b.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249313213183673810" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;WHAT. THE. FUCK.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;After initially having 3 heart attacks and pancaking the dog that came running after my car while I was trying to back the fuck out, I realized that what I had initially thought was a 18th century poltergeist that was going to burn me to death with a lantern, was a PLASTIC JOCKEY.  I subseqently went into a bout of rage, killing thousands of various cute kittens, furry puppies, and cuddly koala bears.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SNlOrFbdD2I/AAAAAAAAAD8/UjiDR8IApwI/s1600-h/DS87-b.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 171px; height: 238px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SNlOrFbdD2I/AAAAAAAAAD8/UjiDR8IApwI/s320/DS87-b.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5249313342775693154" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Fun Fact: Did you know people actually buy this shit?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;IT GIVES NIGHTMARES.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-18991044424356042?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/18991044424356042/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=18991044424356042' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/18991044424356042'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/18991044424356042'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/09/lawn-ornaments.html' title='Lawn Ornaments'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SNlOjiqTxdI/AAAAAAAAAD0/ci9vfxO000A/s72-c/2630-b.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-2923821624875244670</id><published>2008-08-06T20:44:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-11-15T16:32:06.796-08:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='axe body spray'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tag body spray'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='bullshit'/><title type='text'>Axe/Tag</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SJp3KXBYVeI/AAAAAAAAADs/rCFXdHdbsNw/s1600-h/axe.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SJp3KXBYVeI/AAAAAAAAADs/rCFXdHdbsNw/s320/axe.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231624937006454242" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How come whenever I attempt to use any Axe or Tag products, I don't have hundreds of scantily clad hot women tackling me?  What the hell am I doing wrong? I expect to use these sprays in the most generic of places, and have the hottest women in the world appear and molest the shit out of me.  I mean, advertisers wouldn't lie like that would they?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.metacafe.com/fplayer/312591/axe_commercial.swf" wmode="transparent" pluginspage="http://www.macromedia.com/go/getflashplayer" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" width="400" height="345"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-size:78%;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.metacafe.com/watch/312591/axe_commercial/"&gt;Axe Commercial&lt;/a&gt; - &lt;a href="http://www.metacafe.com/"&gt;The best video clips are right here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is pure total bullshit.  Besides a duodec (look that up, bitchass)-daily spraying regimen, I have also purposely gotten bit by hundreds of mosquitoes and ate hundreds of frog legs, and still nothing. At least in beer commercials, I can drink enough beer to make women look that hot.  But no amount of Tag or Axe body spray does that.  Hell last Sunday I emptied a can of Axe on myself and subsequently got lit on fire from direct sunlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SJp25-jvcfI/AAAAAAAAADk/ONNcR7cAlhM/s1600-h/immolate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SJp25-jvcfI/AAAAAAAAADk/ONNcR7cAlhM/s400/immolate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5231624655561781746" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Immolation fucking sucks.  Unless it's against&lt;br /&gt;religious persecution. Then it's ok.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-2923821624875244670?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/2923821624875244670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=2923821624875244670' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/2923821624875244670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/2923821624875244670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/08/axetag.html' title='Axe/Tag'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SJp3KXBYVeI/AAAAAAAAADs/rCFXdHdbsNw/s72-c/axe.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-4304756666216185774</id><published>2008-06-27T20:07:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-27T20:18:41.148-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='button fly'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='something about mary'/><title type='text'>Button Flies</title><content type='html'>If you haven't come across button flies in your lifetime, consider yourself lucky.  Unfortunately for me, apparently Europeans love them, and I had the misfortune of having to have to buy a pair of jeans in the Netherlands.  And every, single, freaking pair has them.  Not familiar? they look like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SGWr1p-4s8I/AAAAAAAAABs/jtT2l-ZrQUI/s1600-h/buttonfly.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 322px; height: 241px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SGWr1p-4s8I/AAAAAAAAABs/jtT2l-ZrQUI/s400/buttonfly.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216764681669620674" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Wondering why you pants are just as fucking annoying to put on as&lt;br /&gt;your button shirt? Blame Europeans&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;My dutch friend recently tried to convince me that button flies are, in fact superior.  He said, after a while, you get so used to them that you can just undo them as quickly as a zipper, and that buttoning them up is also just as fast.  My response: full of shit.  How can it be physically easier and faster to perform 3 actions in the time it should take to do one?  Shit, I have enough trouble buttoning the single button on my pants after zipping up, don't give me another 3.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The ONLY advantage I can think of for button flies is that there is no chance of getting your junk caught in the fly.  But honestly, if that ever happens to you, you should probably rethink your genetics, and allow yourself to get castrated by the zipper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SGWtSTYF-YI/AAAAAAAAAB0/kGNjhZd2Fyk/s1600-h/ow.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 262px; height: 181px;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SGWtSTYF-YI/AAAAAAAAAB0/kGNjhZd2Fyk/s400/ow.bmp" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5216766273329166722" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Knowing my luck, it's probably going to fucking happen to me tomorrow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-4304756666216185774?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/4304756666216185774/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=4304756666216185774' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/4304756666216185774'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/4304756666216185774'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/06/button-flies.html' title='Button Flies'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SGWr1p-4s8I/AAAAAAAAABs/jtT2l-ZrQUI/s72-c/buttonfly.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-660377272300472928</id><published>2008-06-02T18:36:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-06-02T19:07:11.930-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='order same shit at restaurants'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='alec sucks'/><title type='text'>People who order the same stuff at restaurants</title><content type='html'>I have to touch on this subject because I was recently traveling with some friends, and this discussion came up because I have major psychotic issues with people ordering the same shit at nice establishments (lets say, &gt; $15 an entree).  When it is time to order a conversation would occur that is something like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Waitress&lt;/span&gt;: What would you like?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: I would like the Lake Titicaca cut of beef ass with a side of Uncle Ben's rice and Soggy Vegetables.  Medium rare, por favor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Friend&lt;/span&gt;: Actually can I order the same exact thing? thanks!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: ... what the fuck? I thought you were getting the grilled piranha genitalia?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Friend&lt;/span&gt;: I did, and I was about to, but I heard what you were getting and it sounded delicious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Me&lt;/span&gt;: Then fucking get what you are getting, and try some of mine.  What if it's bad and neither of us like it?  How the fuck are you going to go from fish to steak?  The whole point of travelling this far out and going to a decent restaurant is to try shit that we haven't had before.  You basically ruined the whole spirit of the trip.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Friend&lt;/span&gt;: I don't know I'm stupid.  I'm still going to order the same exact thing you ordered, even though I wanted something else beforehand, just because what you ordered sounded good. Even though what I was going to order will most likely be just as, or more delicious, and more importantly, DIFFERENT than what you ordered I'm going to order it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight: bold;"&gt;Waitress&lt;/span&gt;: Wow what that handsome, well versed man who ordered first has a point.  Person who just rip offed that man, you're pretty much retarded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are, however, a COUPLE exceptions to this rule&lt;br /&gt;1) bigass samplers&lt;br /&gt;2) a dish that is the mainstay of the restaurant (steak at a good steakhouse, ribs at a rib joint, vagina at a brothel etc.)&lt;br /&gt;3) if you're with 10+ other people.  I will give the person who ordered the same shit as me the benefit of the doubt.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I will never order the same shit as you, no matter how delicious your dish sounds, unless it is an exception to the items above.  If you do it to me I will probably shoot a laser at your freaking face.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-660377272300472928?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/660377272300472928/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=660377272300472928' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/660377272300472928'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/660377272300472928'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/06/people-who-order-same-stuff-at.html' title='People who order the same stuff at restaurants'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-24187441061377367</id><published>2008-04-21T13:28:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-21T13:56:32.293-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Women who can't dress their age</title><content type='html'>When I'm not out teaching Lebron how to play basketball, or schooling wack MCs in rap battles on  your street corner, I like to chill with a couple of my friends and watch some television.  Taking a break from watching hugely masculine shows like Real World LA or Top Chef, we decided to watch some The Real Housewives of NY.  And immediately we meet Ramona, probably the worst nightmare for the 13 year old daughter she has, and basically any man watching this show. And consequently, we see this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SAz_bYh5IYI/AAAAAAAAABk/vYDCEFmPceg/s1600-h/ramona.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SAz_bYh5IYI/AAAAAAAAABk/vYDCEFmPceg/s400/ramona.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5191805316357497218" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;A billion points goes to whoever can figure out which one I'm talking about.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seriously... the only thing worse than a fat girl wearing something that looks like its clinging on to dear life is an old woman who thinks she's still sexy.  Not Rene Russo in Thomas Crown Affair sexy, because man I'd still hit that shit in a second.  More like I-just-hit-puberty-and-I-need-to-show-off-my-body-to-anything-with-a-penis sexy.  Except that shes probably reaching menopause and it's just awful.  Almost awful enough for me to stop watching the show. ALMOST.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No homo&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-24187441061377367?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/24187441061377367/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=24187441061377367' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/24187441061377367'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/24187441061377367'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/04/women-who-cant-dress-their-age.html' title='Women who can&apos;t dress their age'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SAz_bYh5IYI/AAAAAAAAABk/vYDCEFmPceg/s72-c/ramona.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-743733084279916593</id><published>2008-04-15T06:40:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-15T06:59:28.716-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dog soccer?'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='angry rant'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='tiny dogs'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='soccer dog'/><title type='text'>Tiny Dogs</title><content type='html'>With living in the city, one of the main things you'll have to deal with are tiny dogs. Tiny dogs that by any sense of evolution or general laws of nature would never allow to exist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SASw1wT_V4I/AAAAAAAAAA8/hgQkrdgIjoI/s1600-h/TinyDog_450x505.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SASw1wT_V4I/AAAAAAAAAA8/hgQkrdgIjoI/s200/TinyDog_450x505.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189467108185954178" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Tiny dog? Oh coo...OMG WHY DOES IT HAVE NO FUR AND WHY IS IT BLIND&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Seriously? wtf? These things are not cute.  I routinely see rodents in the subway stations that are far more cuddly and less abhorrent to the eyes than that.  And with all those clothes and other shit you put on it?  To quote Dale from the bestest show on television (Top Chef)- "It's just like dressing up a turd at that point."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And nothing gets to me more than a guy walking one of these things around the city.  I guess if you're that desperate for female attention you'd do anything right? At least you're really comfortable with your sexuality... whichever one that would be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SASzKwT_V5I/AAAAAAAAABE/VpK1ZL3Rif8/s1600-h/notgay.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SASzKwT_V5I/AAAAAAAAABE/VpK1ZL3Rif8/s200/notgay.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5189469667986462610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;1000000000% not gay.&lt;br /&gt;not that there's anything wrong with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There is only solace given in the fact that if you ever leave a soccer ball at home while you're at the park, you can just scoop one of these from the street and kick it around.  Extra kudos to the goalie who potentially has to use his hands to handle the thing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-743733084279916593?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/743733084279916593/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=743733084279916593' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/743733084279916593'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/743733084279916593'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/04/tiny-dogs.html' title='Tiny Dogs'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/SASw1wT_V4I/AAAAAAAAAA8/hgQkrdgIjoI/s72-c/TinyDog_450x505.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-6350758810153496112</id><published>2008-04-04T13:05:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-04-04T13:44:05.904-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='feminist'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='toilet seat up'/><title type='text'>Toilet Seats</title><content type='html'>So I watched the movie &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;Crooklyn&lt;/span&gt; (by Spike Lee, pretty good movie) the other day, and it's about a huge black family, but there's only one daughter, Troy.  At one point of the movie, she comes running down the stairs and complains to her mother, "MOM!!! the toilet seat was up again!  I almost fell in!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ha ha! That was so funny right? wrong.  WRONG.  Fuck putting the toilet seat down after we piss. When did this become an unwritten rule?  I've actually seen girls flip out over this shit.  But does it matter?  I'm going to give you an argument for leaving the seats up that is completely irrefutable.  If you find any faults in the next two scenarios, you are wrong, and you should probably never offer an opinion ever again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First and most common situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I use the toilet and I obviously leave the toilet seat up (because it's the right thing to do).  If a guy uses it afterwards, win.  He doesn't have to worry about any of his piss getting anywhere dirty.  If you're a girl that uses it afterwards, holy shit please do not freak out.  Realize that GRAVITY is on your side.  It actually takes MORE effort for us to LIFT UP the seat after YOU use it than for you to just SLIGHTLY tap the seat to make it fall down after WE use it.  ITS SIMPLE GRAVITY.  And you don't have to worry about the 25% of the guy population who doesn't care about whether the seat is down or not, and just pisses willy &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;nilly&lt;/span&gt; all over the place, leaving you to spend 5 minutes using the shitty toilet paper to clean up the mess.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_aPLJnE3BI/AAAAAAAAAA0/7lKMJ51bQ6U/s1600-h/newton.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_aPLJnE3BI/AAAAAAAAAA0/7lKMJ51bQ6U/s200/newton.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185489442684853266" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Newton would approve.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Second situation:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girls uses the toilet, obviously leaves the seat down. I come in, and unless I need to drop some kids off at the pool, I gotta put my hand on the seat that you just put your ass all over, and pull the ass-infected toilet seat back up. It was your stupid ass that was all over the seat, you fucking put that seat up. If a girl needs to use it right afterwards, she can use her foot to tap the seat down, because you know, gravity doesn't require you to put your hand on a disgusting ass toilet seat.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_aM75nE3AI/AAAAAAAAAAs/XP9Nt2wowWY/s1600-h/toilet.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_aM75nE3AI/AAAAAAAAAAs/XP9Nt2wowWY/s200/toilet.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5185486981668592642" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;What you didn't know is that ass germs are actually invisible.&lt;br /&gt;There's actually a billion germs on that toilet seat.&lt;br /&gt;Fuck using my hand to lift that shit up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Moral of the story?  Leave the seat up.  It's actually better for everybody.  And if you don't? At least don't bitch if it is.  I don't feel like embarrassing you when I have to explain how gravity works.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And don't bitch "oh just wash your hands wah wah wah."  Fuck you.  I'll wash it when i want to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-6350758810153496112?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/6350758810153496112/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=6350758810153496112' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/6350758810153496112'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/6350758810153496112'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/04/toilet-seats.html' title='Toilet Seats'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_aPLJnE3BI/AAAAAAAAAA0/7lKMJ51bQ6U/s72-c/newton.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-3583981283430904192</id><published>2008-03-31T17:46:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-31T20:52:17.783-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='mario lopez'/><title type='text'>Mario Lopez</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Man, remember this guy from Saved by the Bell?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_GGCZnE2_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/pdNsXUfKk-U/s1600-h/mario+lopez.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_GGCZnE2_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/pdNsXUfKk-U/s200/mario+lopez.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5184072021872794610" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;No homo.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;I actually don't remember the show very well, but one thing I do remember was being overjoyed that the show finally got canceled so that Mario Lopez would no longer be famous. C'mon, a minority with a mullet?  Automatic hatred because it wasn't me first.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he was on this show about pet stars on Animal Planet? Nat Geo? Public Access?  I forget.  But it was pretty good, I guess.  If you were 5.  or old. or retarded.  actually it was a horrible because they gave Mario more work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then came America's best dance crew. oh man.  In theory, a great show, especially with jabba and kaba and the other crews.  but they made 3 mistakes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;ol&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hiring JC&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hiring Lil Mama&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Hiring Mario Lopez&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not firing Mario right away after episode 1&lt;/li&gt;&lt;li&gt;Not firing Mario after episode 2...&lt;/li&gt;&lt;/ol&gt;You know what they made a lot more mistakes than that.  And don't give me that bullshit that he didn't write what he was saying.  I don't care.  He still said it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;object width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/eNVmHxewVJY&amp;hl=en"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="wmode" value="transparent"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/eNVmHxewVJY&amp;hl=en" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" width="425" height="355"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Will they mimic Omarion perfectly? or will their freezes freeze them up?"&lt;br /&gt;Oh god.  every word hurts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-3583981283430904192?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/3583981283430904192/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=3583981283430904192' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/3583981283430904192'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/3583981283430904192'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/03/mario-lopez.html' title='Mario Lopez'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp0.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R_GGCZnE2_I/AAAAAAAAAAk/pdNsXUfKk-U/s72-c/mario+lopez.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5175808194120934788.post-611870486916007734</id><published>2008-03-27T09:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-03-27T10:18:20.559-07:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='dirty glass doors'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='lawlbster'/><title type='text'>Greasy glass doors</title><content type='html'>You know those glass doors that litter everywhere from the midtown offices of Manhattan to the trash strip malls in Jersey?  There's a freaking metal bar in the middle of the door/end of the door for a reason.  That's where you put your greasy, dirty ass hands on.  No, don't put it on the glass part of the door, where your nasty disgusting hand oils get all over the door and I have to actually put my face near when I open one of these things&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R-vUrJnE2-I/AAAAAAAAAAc/f5QhQ-YEi8k/s1600-h/dirtywindows.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R-vUrJnE2-I/AAAAAAAAAAc/f5QhQ-YEi8k/s320/dirtywindows.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5182469633999166434" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;Flipping disgusting.  I hate everyone one of you who do that.  At least learn to use your shoulder or sleeve or something.  Save the janitors some time.  Shit, if I were a janitor who had to clean nasty shit up all day, but I didn't have to worry about the spotlessness of the front glass door, I'd be a happy man.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/5175808194120934788-611870486916007734?l=dykwpmo.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/feeds/611870486916007734/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=5175808194120934788&amp;postID=611870486916007734' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/611870486916007734'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/5175808194120934788/posts/default/611870486916007734'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://dykwpmo.blogspot.com/2008/03/you-know-those-glass-doors-that-litter.html' title='Greasy glass doors'/><author><name>vy</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/09962223728326517053</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_StEKtBhgB9Q/R-vUrJnE2-I/AAAAAAAAAAc/f5QhQ-YEi8k/s72-c/dirtywindows.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
