Life after graduation?

You'd figure I'd write more if I didn't have school work to do.  Turns out I'm just dumbfoundingly lazy.

There are arduous, agonizing, unspeakable deaths... and then there's Walmart. 

Unfortunately for me, I have to experience the latter week or so, purely for groceries and its close proximity to where I live, and it is fucking torture.  It's already a fairly renowned fact that I'm going to hate most people, let alone the common street filth that inhabits Walmart (referred to as "The Wall" for the rest of this rant).  I figure that there are scummy people at every grocery store, but not quite on the exponentially disturbing scale like the filth at The Wall.  These fucks make the Westboro Baptist Church members seem like normal people.  I went yesterday, and while it wasn't the most unpleasant Wall trip I took, it triggered some PTSD memories from the worst grocery shopping experience of my life, which I felt would be appropriate to share and hopefully deter further patronage from that hell hole. 

One prejudice filled evening, I was shopping for some bell peppers to add to a delicious ground beef medley. I stood looking at the horrifying options I had in front of me, trying to decide which gangrene infested veggies I would try to shove down my throat, when I turned to bring my shopping cart in closer to the food so this passing family could walk past with ease, when this putrid little juvenile (about 5 or 6 years old, I dunno, I'm terrible at guessing ages) verbally accosts me with a vicious little, "Move yo shit, whitey" (I'll let you assume any racial differences that may be present here).  I swear to fucking god, that actually happened.  I looked around for this little shits parent/guardian and spotted her, fucking around on her iPhone while dragging her cart behind her.  I assume whatever she was doing on her phone was important, because she was ignoring the fact that she was raising one of the next members of the Death Angels.  She looks up from her Angry Birds and sees my shocked, open-jawed expression and shoots me a look like, "Do somethin', I dare you." Obviously I did nothing.  What was I gonna do?  Kick the little snot in the face?  I have wet dreams about doing it though, soaking wet dreams.

This one other time I was cruising through the frozen meats and such, I spotted a normal looking person at the Wall.  This, in and of itself, is fucking amazing.  This is essentially the spotting of a unicorn; it's pretty hard for me to not find anything wrong with a person, especially at the Wall, but this guy seemed incredibly normal.  Not morbidly obese, not wearing trashy clothing nor fancy clothing, just a dude who looked like he was a semi-productive member of society.  I almost had to shake his hand and ask him how he did it, how could he exist in this Wallrealm...

...But then, in slow motion, I watched as this putz trip forward and bust his schnoz on the handle of his shopping cart. He then proceeded to cushion his fall by landing directly on his face.  I didn't think the trailer trash tramp that was next to him was associated with him, but she was in fact his significant other, and she must have thought he died on the spot, because she screamed and scared the shit out of everyone else in the store.  I couldn't believe this shit.  His tramp was screaming because of the ungodly amount of blood squirting from his fucking nose.  Now I'm no hero, so I just kinda stood there with my hands in front of me, giving a shit but not enough to help this stunod.

"Holy shit.  I, ah.... fuck this."

Yeah, those last two sucked dick, but this one really made me question as to whether or not my life was real or not.  After a grueling session of shopping with the scum of  Kent County, I'm finally in the speedy checkout like with less than 20 items in my cart, and for once nobody ahead of me is abusing this 20 item limit, jubilee.  I've put myself through another dreadful evening of smelly, loud, obnoxious people and I'm ready to get the fuck outta dodge.  The bags are in the cart, I'm waiting for my total, card in my hand, fully erect and as the cashier (who no doubt only works at Walmart because she hates herself) turns her head to mumble my total, she fucking burps in my face.

She burped.

In my face.

And then told me my total.

I just stared with my mouth open, so her soulless breath probably made its way onto my palate.  Like, did you really have to spread your general distaste for life with me, when I was just on my way out?  So many thoughts ran through my head; is this reality, who shot Kennedy, what am I jerking off to tonight... but I couldn't make sense of anything.  This was life for me; receiving a hearty belch for no pay at all.  I guess I'm fortunate, because some people have to find a sad hooker for that kind of thing.  Wait, no, that was really fucking gross.

Fuck Walmart.  I suppose shit could be worse.


Sick of cold weather,

JoeyG

Not the man now, dawg.

Sorry, I got distracted. 

Okay, lemme just put this out there.... new born babies are not cute, at all.  I guess I just don't see the beauty of life in this pygmy version of a human that looks supremely pissed off all the time.  As if it wasn't bad enough that babies have the ultimate premadonna attitude, not allowing a normal sleep or sexy-time schedule, but they just shit their pants whenever they feel like it.  I understand that they have no control over their bowels and whatnot, but then why does it seem that people my age are popping these things out at a frightening pace?  I would love to be able to honestly tell them that the picture they snapped of the baby right after it came out is cute, but it's not.  This seems to be the case with all babies, not just the ugly ones. Some people might see this blatant display of telling the truth as an attempt to pick on babies.  Those people are only about half right. 

As adorable as cancer.


Speaking of ugly people, a woman in a Walmart fucking peppered sprayed other shoppers for an XBOX on Black Friday.  Now first off, I don't think I'd be caught dead at this pathetic attempt to buy shit for a little bit cheaper than usual, but I'm only saying that because Vietnamese children aren't offered at malls or Walmarts yet.  Second, if ANYBODY peppered sprayed me over a fucking game console, I would mercilessly beat them into a coma.  This includes this mother of three children, all of whom were with her when she decided to do her best impression of an Oakland riot squad officer.  How did this filthy cunt get away with spraying 20ish people, and not get her ass beat?  Humans are putrid things, and if you actually went out and shopped on Black Friday, I think you're a shallow, materialistic pig.  Fuck off.

I'm keeping this shit short, because I have more Skyrim to play, but recently I read a question that gave me a solid 4-6 minutes of pondering:  "You're in a room with your clone, fight it or fuck it?" This is quite the inquery, because despite my charm and handsome looks, I would have finally found someone who GETS ME!  My closest friends don't really understand what's going on in my noggin, so it'd be really great to sit and chat with one of the most underestimated minds of my generation.  But the option was not to casually chat with your clone, and I don't think I could fuck myself.  Some people may be able to easily picture themselves pounding themselves in the ass or scissoring with themself, but for some reason that just ain't doing it for me.  But a fight, however, would be fucking sweet.  Finally, an opponent who matches me in every strength and weakness, I can see cities crumbling at their foundation as the fight proves what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object.  I get moist at the idea. 

I need to get back to wasting my time, but meanwhile, ask yourself, "Fight, or fuck myself?"

Seriously.

Better than my clone,


Joey G

Ctrl+Z

Only a little over a year into my 20s and I realize that fun is only available through substance abuse or the defiling of state and federal laws... or acting like a teenager.  I'm slowly realizing that college is going to end soon, and if I'm lucky, I'll get one of the jobs that television portrays as a slow, methodical way to deteriorate any personal value you've ever felt that you had.  This is the "Quarter-Life Crisis", and it's beating the living tar out of me.  While Mr.Crisis proceeds to simultaneously finger bang and face fuck me with Flo Rida playing in the background, I've decided to reflect on my teenage years to distract me from my awful gag reflexes. 

Who else remembers when Jager and Miller Lite made for an awesome party?  Throw on ...Is A Real Boy or whatever goofy ass shit you listened to back then, keep the partying at a minimum roar, just loud enough so that whoever's mom wouldn't come and yell at us.  You had your tight crew of misfits and were supremely bummed when one of them couldn't make it to the weekly jamboree at your mom's house.  You were having so much fun.

Fast forward six years.  You are supremely pissed if the only shit you have to drink is Miller and Jager.  Whatever music you want to listen while you binge is determined by the amount of functional alcoholics gathering.  If it's only you and a few of your chums turning a video game into a hangover producer, then you can listen to whatever the fuck you want.  Having a "rager", with dozens of people present?  Get ready for the most monotonous and obnoxious mix of shitty pop remixes and bad rap songs the Billboard 100 could spew forth.  Let's assume you have to hunt for a party and end up at some lair of frat douches, you are now stuck with Dave Matthew's Band and Mac Miller for the rest of the night. That sense of camaraderie with the other party goers that you had before, that's replaced with total disgust and loathing for the gaudy alcoholics who the house owners like a lot more than you.  Parties are no longer fun, bars are too expensive, drinking becomes a guilt trip. 

Working wasn't that bad either.  Walking into the pizza hole, fresh face and ready to playfully flirt with your teenage coworkers while eventually doing the least amount of work possible that would please your cool boss!  If you had a sterling sense of humor, not unlike myself, everyone loved you because you made a disgusting work hell a little bit more bearable.  Cute as fuck, and you lived without even realizing that you could be fired.  I kind of enjoyed work. 

Now I'm 21, and work fucking blows.  The chicks who I flirted with at work when I was a teenager are now getting pounded by jacked, genetically superior, athlete scumbags, and for some reason it's frowned upon for me to hit on the 16 year old chick at work.  That sterling sense of humor has been weathered down to a cynical, biting wit that people only find humorous because you are completely fucking serious.  That cool boss you had when you were younger?  Yeah, they suck now.  They're still managing a pizza place and living with the shitty decisions they made in high school that didn't really open up career options for themselves.  So now these miserable managers start taking advantage of the employer-employee relationship and give you shit everytime you go to work, just because they can.

Relationships.  Ahhh relationships.  I remember being in love for the first time and how it probably feels similar to doing heroin for the first time.  You know that life doesn't get any better than holding hands and looking into that beautiful piece of jailbait's eyes while knowing that you cannot live without this person in your life.  You tossed around the word "love" like it's a comma and thought your friends were heartless when they scoffed at you professing your allegiance to this significant other. Love fucking ruled!

Barf.

"Love" is now the most putrid word I can think of.  If you managed to somehow stay in a relationship with the same person you fell in love with in high school, you more than likely hate their fucking guts.  When I heard someone say they "love" me when I was a teen, my dick got hard and I started rubbing it on things.  If someone said that to me now I'd I go into a state of panic similar to that of American's on 9/11.  The idea of someone being in love at this age is a horrifying concept; your agonizing life is only getting started, don't bring someone you kinda care about into that with you.  It's healthy and reasonable to love shit; people, video games, hockey fights, etc., but don't be IN love with shit.  People not in love hate you, because we are now second fiddle to whatever you love.  So stop. 

Being a teenager ruled.  Sure, I was really awkward and went through confusing stages in life, but I didn't have to worry about shit like health care or rent(mooching is a guilt trip though), and for most of my teen years my criminal record was written on a board with a dry erase marker until I was 18... and I failed to take advantage of it, no stolen cop cars for me.  I could go on for hours about how much growing up blows, but I guess I'm just upset that I'm an adult now and have responsibilities that must be tended to.  I'm turning into a grumpy old dick, and I've only just been allowed by the legal system to buy alcohol.  Fucking save me.


Happy as ever,

JoeyG

Povich 4 Prez

In the spirit of Dress Up Like a Slut weekend, lets talk about other shit that I love!

I don't think I've ever met a person who didn't like Maury, and wasn't a complete and total douchebag.  There's a sort of mystical allure that's present when you watch the dregs of society take some of the most embarrassing social issues that a person can find themselves in, and go on a TV show that thousands of people watch each day.  I must also credit Jerry Springer and Steve Wilkos for having pretty entertaining shows in time slots that would be suicidal for most series's, but Springer brings a little too much deliberate humor in with his guests, and Wilkos is more often than not, depressing as fuck and a little unprofessional.  Maury, however, has gotten me through more meaningless afternoons than I can even come close to putting a number on.  Let's run through this a little bit...   
 

If I ever have relationship problems, or any issues regarding a relationship I'm involved with, I may run it by my friends if it's not so serious.  This would be general subject matter: denial of anal, hygiene problems, shitty relatives, etc.  Very few people are privy to my ACTUAL problems, relationship ending fights and such. I get a little uneasy with the term "Facebook Official", because it's just a giant broadcast of your own stupid business that people you don't really give a shit about get to see.  But you have something so embarrassing that Facebook hasn't even made it an official status yet? Good news, you can bypass Facebook Official, and go straight to fucking MAURY OFFICIAL.  

Oh, your daughter is 14 years old and already gets laid more than me?  Go on fucking Maury. Confident that your genes are superior and only capable of creating a perfectly healthy baby boy?  Prove it on Maury, you fuck.  You aren't 100% sure which burnout you had sex with 9 months ago?  I fucking have a blog for that specific purpose!  But go on Maury and your fucking life sorted out... and then kill the fucking kid.  It's not fair that it has to be stuck with you (as if former Maury guests are reading this).

On the realest real note though, it has been my dream for a while to go up to Connecticut and see that glorious man in person.  Can you possibly imagine people actually dispute their basic responsibilities as maternal/paternal figures, while you watch?  You think you can?  How about if one of them is a fucking black albino man?  Yep, black albinos get more pussy than me.

Does he have down syndrome too?  Unreal.

I really, really love my entire family to death, but it would just be so fucking super if Maury Povich was an uncle or grandfather of mine.  Holy fuck, Christmas would be fantastic.  I could even hook up with the underage sluts on his show too!  That's a world I want to live in.  Underage sluts for everyone.  Happy Halloween you sows.


 


Seeking bromance,



JoeyG

Keep me out of you.



R.I.P. Gaddafi

 Now that Tanzania is freed and I can talk about myself...

My kid(s) is(are) fucked.  That statement is based solely on the off chance that at some point, a female would deem me a suitable mate and let me awkwardly bury an ample amount of seed in her twat and let me help raise whatever pops out in 9 months time.  An unlikely idea, but perhaps slightly plausible.  If the god of wine decides that I am fit to carry on my dego name, then I may or may not have a spawn that will be completely screwed, thanks to me and this stale, calloused world.

I think it's safe to say that , first off, I'm not quite equipped with Adonis DNA.  We can rule out Atlas or Hercules coming from my cock.  I'm not saying that I'm going to produce a breathing colostomy bag, but unless I get the spawn practicing at something at an early age, his(fuck a daughter) tiny body won't be useful for much outside of wrestling, and look at how my career in that took off.  I say "tiny" because, as much as I like the odds, there is no way I'm going to produce a kid who gets much taller than me.  In order for that to be even remotely possible, I'd have to fufill my dream of wedding a tall, forceful, Wonder Woman-esque amazonian woman, and last time I checked, those ladies weren't exactly lining up for my dwarven ass.  I'm in a sort of "height limbo" that fluctuates between 5'4 and 5'5, even 5'6 if I'm talking to somebody really gullible.  So assuming the tall chick thing doesn't work out, I have to make due with a girl(whose genes suck already) who is the same height or shorter than me.  My kid is going to fucking petite.  I'm afraid that my mini-spawn will have to rely on his ravishing eyes, bulging calves, and witty prose to succeed in life.  If I have anything to do with passing those traits on. 

There's also the whole raising the spawn thing, where I'm required to live up to responsibilities and shit.  I think I have another decade (rough guesstimate) of thoroughly not wanting responsibilities as a mature person, although I am well aware that another decade of being a burnout is a product of a wildly fanciful imagination.  It just seems to me that there are a LOT of people in the 18-24 age range that pop out babies like the shit's cool.  Now there are some people who are doing a good job of raising these kids at, what I believe, is a relatively young age, but then I hear some chicks in my college classes using their kid to hide behind scholastic responsibility.  Can you imagine the shit I would use my kid as an excuse for?  Shit my pants?  Kid's fault.  Accidentally kill the dog?  The baby shouldn't have been driving.  Even if I told a bad joke at a party I'd say my retarded kid told me it, and that I only told it so we could laugh at his expense.  How am I gonna buy Call of Duty 58 when I have to buy fruits, vegetables, diapers and shit?  I can't maintain a 1.5 Kill:Death ratio, how the FUCK am I going to raise a spawn of my own?  There are still points in my life where I accidentally shit my own pants, and go into a hysterical frenzy and scream at myself for losing control of one one of the most basic bodily functions, now imagine me yelling at a child for that.  Every day. 

Okay, assuming I haven't panicked and eaten my spawn before he's shipped off to school, there is no way this country doesn't shit on his hopes and dreams or kill him before he can drive.  Besides the recent rash of Jumanji games spiraling out of control, my runt will probably have to compete with nerds, kinda smart kids, and the other average kids like himself.  He will also have to compete with those fucking idiots that were in your classes, and you fucking know what kids I'm talking about.  The kids whose parents didn't notice them pissing and shitting in 2 liter soda bottles and harvesting the fumes so they can get a psychadelic high.  The kids who killed neighborhood cats with BB guns and blew up the dead bodies.  I say that my spawn will have to compete with these kids, because the integrity of the traditional grading system has been raped by shitty Americans.  People are taking away valid reasons for beating my child.  They are essentially leveling the playing field for my mild-mannered kid and Sid from Toy Story.

A balmy juggalo.

Hopefully I don't have to tell my kid that his dreams are going to be crushed by everything else in life and he had better dream up some shit in the vain of accounting or some other boring garbage that I couldn't put myself through.  These are simply my thoughts.  I also think about how my small hands make my dick look big.


Text me,

JoeyG

STILL DOING SCHOOL SHIT!!!

I suck so hard.   This shit rules though.

;),

JoeyG

I hate school so much

I am 21 years old.

I'm not married, nor do I have kids at this age, because I have self control.

I am a college student, and constantly bored when I refuse to do my homework.

Whenever I'm bored I turn to the internet for knowledg...

 ...I end up looking at pornography and downloading music.

My toughest decisions are when I have to choose between Madden, Call of Duty 4, and Netflix.

When I'm not high or drunk off mom and dad's buck, I'm probably sleeping.

I'm in debt to my friends for rent, meals, and various leisurely activities because I don't have a job.

I can't find a job because I'm a lazy piece of shit who would rather sit at home and listen to shitty music.

I am in for a rude awakening.

I am a dick.

Occupy my anus.

3Deez nuts

When Avatar came out in theaters, I didn't give a flying fuck.  I didn't see it until it came out on dvd and was overwhelmed by the Ferngully hippie themes.  It was pretty and imaginative but not quite my bag. After I saw it on my normal ass xbox I was immediately ridiculed by my douchebag friends for not seeing it in theaters and imax, even more so for missing out on the orgasmic 3D experience.  As if having the giant blue people freak me the fuck out even more would have changed my movie-going experience from "whatever" to "meh".  I've never seen a movie in 3D and unless somebody forcibly entices me into going to the cinema center or whatever movie shitholes are in Delaware, I doubt I'm gonna see one soon.

I dunno about any of you out there, but I think the third dimension should stay the fuck away from my movies.  As a child, around six or seven years of age I reckon, mom and dad took my sister and I to Disney World, and it RULED.  I fisted Space Mountain, sodomized Splash Mountain, and skull fucked the Tower of Terror.  I strutted my cute ass up and down Epcot and the Magic Kingdom, snatchin autograph's from Donald, Mickey, and those motherfucking dime piece princesses.  I'm pretty sure I got a kiss from my favorite princess ever, Jasmine.  Yeah, Jasmine's my favorite, get over it you bitch. 

That midriff got me through some really awkward times with my body.

Disney Land ruled tits, except for the fucking 3D films that they had in the random theme parks.  There was an A Bug's Life one, Honey, I Shrunk the Audience, and I'm sure there were a few others that I saw or had to sit outside of due to sheer misery.  In case you haven't been privy to one of these shows, I'm assuming it's exactly what Hollywood is doing now with their big ass movies in 3D, but these Disney films are more centered around incorporating the third dimension into a mindless, slapstick film.  Little did I know that these movies would haunt me for the rest of my life.

Imagine a seven year old Joseph, galavanting through Disney Land, a handsome little boy with no knowledge of how depressing and empty he would be in about 14 years, waiting in line to see Honey, I Shrunk the Audience.  Surely it would be gut bustingly funny since that Canadian jackass Rick Moranis would be piling on the laughs for me... surely.  But keep imagining little Joseph sitting in his seat with the goofy 3D glasses taking up most of his face, eagerly  waiting for the start of the show.  Sure enough, the lights dim, the curtains open, the show begins, and I lose my shit.  The entire theater was tailored around this stupid movie in order to really get the audience to feel like they're hanging out with that doofus scientist and his dysfunctional family. One must also keep in mind, the incredible imagination of a child at that age and the strength of my suspended disbelief.  In short, I'm gullible as fuck. 

I can't quite remember the plot, mostly because I'm sure the writing was about as good as Leprechaun: Back 2 tha Hood.  The antics begin, the audience gets shrunk, and random shit comes flying at the audience.  Oh, and there are two giant animals running around in 3D.  One is Quark, the family dog who seems friendly except the fact that he's 100 fucking feet tall.  I only screamed like a bitch whenever he showed up on screen.  The other animal was a motherfucking ANACONDA.  My parents took me, a trusting young cherub, to this 3D movie where the threat of being consumed by a behemoth snake is very, very real to me.   I was afraid of hypothetical monsters in my closet or underneath my bed, and then my "guardians" drag me into this nightmare?  You have got to be shitting me.  I couldn't sit still in a dark room for a year after that.  Was I supposed to be entertained by having random holographic shit thrown in my direction?  Because every time it happened, I flinched like a twerp, and I think I will always be shook as shit to see any movie in 3D.  I guess I'm kinda old fashioned when it comes to cinema; I'd rather watch Shawshank in 2D than have to wear glasses and look like a nerd while having the fear of Christ stricken into me by a hyena voiced by Whoopi Goldberg in 3D. 

The most intense scene in cinematic history would have me shitting my pants in 3D.

I just feel like it's become a gimmick for selling tickets and not having to worry as much about a plot.  I'm also a cynical asshole who only goes out to see movies if somebody else is making me go.  The whole movie-going experience is ruined by the gross theaters and obnoxious people who always sit near you.  All of that on top of the fact that I'm going to be constantly protecting myself from shit that I think is going to crush my face for 90 minutes straight, I can safely say that I want no part in 3D movies at all.  I've got another week of obnoxious school work ruining my plans.  Not sure how often I'll complain on here.  Stay breezy ya'll.


Scholastically exhausted,

JoeyG

Marvel vs. Capcom rules all

You know those people in your classes in college?  You know, those people.  I don't know what it is but lately I have not been in the mood for their shit.  We all know these people and have had at least one class with them... I end up in one every fucking semester.  There's the student who happens to be the same age as our parents, the kids(more than one type) who make us feel like dunces, the extremely fucking rude kids, etc., etc.  Scholastically, this week has been the fucking pits, and since I can't curb stomp these cocksuckers, you, the reader, get to hear me whine about this garbage.

Age before beauty in my posts, so let's aggress the desperate old folks in our classes.  Where do we stand, morally, when we talk about these eager beavers?  Should we be really excited for the elder in the class since they have a goal that they're finally working towards in getting their collegiate degree?  After 40 or some odd years they got their acts together and are hoping to have something to look back on in the dwindling twilight of their lives. 



Just a moving bag of awkward group projects.

 Also, they're really fucking annoying.  These archaic assholes are the reason I start to get snappy with my parents whenever I get to see them.  I feel like they play their own twisted psychological game of "Ask as Many Irritating Questions as Possible".  They also feel the need to compete with us younger bucks for the professor's affection, which for the most part, if you aren't being a twat, you don't give a shit about.  I cannot express how much I pity the old fool in my class when he makes some sort of humorous comment out of mirth, and nobody in the class laughs.  In one particular instance of a mortifying attempt at a witty comment, as the "joke" was cracked nobody had laughed(obviously), and as I turned my head in disgust to see the face of our elder, I noticed he was anxiously looking around for the approval of his fellow students and had somehow connected his beaming gaze to mine, and he just smiled.  Just sitting there, smiling at me.  I am overwhelmed with pity for this man, and so I pull a half-assed, awkward smirk out of my compassion.  Never say I'm a bad person, because that takes fucking STRENGTH... but enough about those pests.

Onto the ego killers.  We probably judge people by their looks when we get to class, it's a pretty natural thing so why not admit it.  We see the nerds and immediately know they will be our successors in the class, no biggie.  Jocks, or any kid that wears high socks with some sort of tacky high top sneaker or those douchey Nike sandal things, you get no love because you're all fucking dorks and we know that if you do well it's because you cheated.  I'm mostly disappointed in myself when the "special"(in one way or another) kid in class one ups me on my quizzes.  I am truly proud and inspired by the kids who have overcome crippling odds in life to show that they came to fuck shit up too... but then there's that point where they consistently get better grades than me after I work my lazy tits off for a B.  I'm not saying "Stop being better than me", because that's weak.  No I'd rather you succeed in some other class, because besides this blog, my egotism is all I have. 

And lastly, why the fuck do kids have to talk in class?  Seriously.  That is some of the most unmannered shit ever.  This professor is simply doing their job, educating us to the ways of the contemporary American writer or the path of the learned rhetorician, and you're sitting there gabbing about your weekend or your opinion on why this class blows.  That is some of the most distracting nonsense ever, because despite how much I want to seem rad and that I don't care about school, I want to learn this shit so I never have to be anywhere near your dumb ass again.  Even when you aren't talking you're still probably grinding my gears.  People sleeping in class is a little pet peeve of mine; I know it's none of my business, but my parents would stomp a mudhole in my ass if they saw me sleeping in class, followed by an epic guilt trip.  Next time I see you cunts sleeping in class, I'm gonna Tekken-style axe kick your skull through the desk.  Please believe.

Virginia Woolf?  More like Who's Afraid of JIN KAZAMA!

I just want this week to end so I can be up to no good in Nerk.  Be good students, don't give me an excuse to write about your lame ass.


Forever Right, Right + Left Kick,

JoeyG

i'm shuttin the studio down

midterm tomorrow,  gotta study.  ill be back on my grind afterwards.


Fucked,

JoeyG

Ambitionz as a ridah

Are we genetically predisposed to suck at driving?  One figures as much; women and sissies(myself included) suck, while everyone else kinda holds command over the road.  I'm not sure why I suck though, my only real issue is that I detest being on interstates and driving around places that I'm unfamiliar with, that's a lot of pressure, fucking sue me.  I've only had two fender benders and two speeding tickets over a span of five or so years and I'm comfortable saying that I really fucking hate driving.  I think I might drive shittier after I get done playing Grand Theft Auto, and if that's the case everyone better be really fucking happy I don't own any guns.

It might be because I push a Taurus around.  I don't think I've ever met a person who drives a Taurus who doesn't absolutely loathe their life.  People that ride hogs do the little hand thing on the side of the bike if they pass each other, Wrangler drivers smile and wave, while us Taurus drivers just sigh and hold up what weapon we've decided would be appropriate for our suicides.  There is always some shit going wrong with my car and I'm constantly paranoid that it's going to conk out on my way up to Newark one day, especially when I go over that one big fucking bridge with the yellow support things. 

This picture couldn't make Delaware look any more like a cold, dead place.

Fuck driving.  I'd rather skate everywhere; cheap as balls and infinitely more fun than driving, even if you suck at it!  Who cares about all of the ecological benefits you get when you don't drive, can you and your friends all hop in your own cars and start driving across the UD campus?  Theoretically, you could, but it's way more enjoyable and within the confinements of the law(kinda) to just skate everywhere.  In Delaware there two areas that I know of where you can live and not have to drive anywhere if you skate: Newark, and the beaches.  I'm sure there are other spots where it's easy to maintain a living situation in the state and skate at the same time, but I haven't been there so it doesn't exist to me. 

At first I wanted to write about cars and driving and shit, but literally everything is so much more appealing about skating right now.  This past summer I bought my first longboard and it was probably the most fun I've had since my childhood innocence died out years ago.  I remember being so pumped when I got it that later at work I ended up taking a break(which nobody really gives a shit about anymore) and skating around the UDel campus for 45 minutes, WITHOUT clocking out.  Fuck you Grotto Pizza.  If anybody gets truly bored with whatever shitty surroundings they're stuck in, buy a longboard.  The feeling of finally finding your balance and comfort zone is so satisfying, especially the first time you lean/crouch on your board and run your fingers against the asphault.  Gosh, I'm getting wood.  Finding unfamiliar ways across that campus on my way to and from work was some of the bulliest shit I did this summer, it was that adventurous childlike feeling that comes when you're doing something new.  I didn't feel like a degenerate substance abusing adult anymore.  Sike, I totally did.  I'm not going to act like the gods of eating shit didn't call for blood though, that board handed my ass to me a few times.  I'd go into detail about the worst fall of my life but I still can't really get through the story without my eyes twitching and my asshole quivering.  Ask me about it in person, it's funny.

I'm probably gonna write more about longboarding and this past summer now.  I'm cool with that.


Nostalgically,

JoeyG

Bill Watterson is a genius.

Sometimes strange shit happens in the men's room.  People act odd in a room where other dudes are relieving themselves, which sounds pretty reasonable on paper.  Why would anybody be comfortable in a room where a stranger is pissing/shitting?  Obviously it smells awful, more often than not there are puddles of some weird liquid on the floor and you're not sure if someone would actually miss the urinal that badly, but you don't rule it out because humans are fucking assholes.  The lighting is never really spot on for me either, it's either way too surgery-room-bright, or it's crack-den-in-Havana-dim.  There's always a shameful guilt that comes over one of us if we're dropping one in the stall and somebody else comes in just to take a wizz,  but one of the only things that really, really, bugs me is when a guy won't piss next to me out of insecurity.

This seems like a weird thing to be offended by, and it is; do I really gives a shit if somebody is going to urinate next to me or not?  I think I'm mostly just displeased with the fact that guys are still suffering from this quasi-homophobia where they can't stomach the thought of just peeing next to another dude.  This complaint really only applies when there is only one other urinal available to piss in, and it's next to me.  I've had guys stand and wait for me to finish up so they could pee without a neighbor.  Do you have any idea how fucking uncomfortable that is?  Am I supposed to hurry it up for your convenience now?  Mularkey.

Do they think that I'm poaching pee partners?  It's not as if I will my bladder to fill up so I can stand at the urinal in hopes of somebody else joining in and I maybe hopefully possibly catch a glimpse of their dick.  I'm going to start saying stuff to those dudes, just your standard, "Hey, you can pee next to me, I don't mind", but that might make it more awkward.  If there are multiple plumbing fixtures available then OBVIOUSLY I'm not gonna pull up next to the only other person pissing, because that's really strange.  But you're gonna WAIT for me?  Just pony up, dude, I won't take a gander at your schlong. 

In my nonproprietary opinion, we, as men, should just pee.  If you have to fart, go ahead and do that too!  You're in the men's room for a reason and that's because you can't do the same stuff out at the bar, legally.  You're making it weird when you deem me unsuitable to piss next to and you come off as a spineless pussy... and it hurts my feelings.

This video works perfectly.

Also, in the middle of writing this I accidentally ate a fortune cookie without getting the fortune out first.  Like I just kinda threw it into my mouth.  How do I exist?


Forever loving Calvin and Hobbes,

JoeyG

Shit I can't get away with saying.

Humans "made" fire, and then they invented beer, pizza, and vocabulary.  The vocabulary is certainly the most important of these three life-changing innovations, as it is incorporated into our lives each day.  Also, it's free.  We can also agree that there are words that you do NOT ever fucking say.  Not even if there's a fire.  I'm usually not one to constrain my vocab, everyone who knows me knows that.  But there is one word that I will positively not use in its most powerful context.  I used to drop it a lot, and I'll say it around my friends now but not when anyone who might be offended is near.

Cunt.

At least three chicks just shook their head in disgust.  The big C used to be a nautical term for a type of rope splice, or a sort of rope joint, called a cunt splice.  I don't know shit about boats and all that seaman stuff, but there were actually a few uses of the word cunt back in the day, mostly adjectives meaning "really fucking small".. a "cunthair" used to make complete sense to sailors. 

Whatever.  Imagine getting into an argument with your girlfriend/wife/significant other, and she is just absolutely verbally laying into you.  You're panicking because you are at fault here for whatever reason, you've admitted it, you want it to stop but she just won't shut the fuck up.  You're grasping at straws, trying your hardest to keep a lid on it and defend yourself.  You are about to royally fuck up.

"Shut up, you cunt."

You just royally fucked up.  If you wanted her to be quiet, then you just earned yourself about eight seconds of the deadest silence the world has ever known.  The ghosts of Hiroshima are scared as fuck for you right now.  Whomever you just said that to, well, their eyes are starting to dilate, their pores are opening up, their heart rate is skyrocketing and you sit back in your shell of a human self, silently whimpering, "Oh shit."  All of this because of a little four letter word and the fact that you have lost the most basic control over your brain.

Now I'm not a very brave person, but I'm not afraid of words because they're just... words.  I AM, however, afraid of a scorned woman.  Cunt, in its most basic, offensive form, is a part of lady anatomy.  If you are ever around a chick acting like a cunt, refrain from using that little death sentence and try something else from now on.  In my experience with women acting like cunts, calling them an asshole is the best way to remain offensive without crossing into the valley of death; it's not sexist but can still chap their buns a little, especially when adding a few colorful adjectives in before it. 




Fucking cunt.

 So all I'm really tryin to say... suck it up ladies.  Stop being so touchy.  I'm not gonna go around spewing obsceneties at you because, well, you're people too. You're beautiful and God loves you.  I love you.  But get over it.


Forever losing female readers,

JoeyG

Dark Shadows is one of the best soap operas of all time.

Rest in peace Steve Jobs, perhaps you shouldn't have bet your life that everyone would love the 4S.  I quite honestly could not care less about your demise and all that you've really done for me is help annihilate the memory on my hard drive.  What's really alarming is that people are treating him like Jesus... motherfuckers are already changing their FB profile pictures in memoriam?!?  Some of you people would suck this guys toes if he appeared in front of you right now, we need to lay off the tech devices for a while(Such a counter-culture statement being made in my blog that I spam facebook with...).  I don't buy into the hype of taking hipster pictures of yourself on a mac, but I also catch shit for not liking Dave Matthews Band.  But to a more pressing matter, this series is going back to the Illadelph for game 5, FUCK.

We totally take the moon for granted, just sayin'.  I'm not sure if I was as geeked out by it when I was really young, but I know for a fact that I didn't give a shit about it from the age of 10 all the way to 20.  Now I crane my neck whenever I get to see it chilling as I cruise down rt.1, a fairly dangerous thing to do when you're driving 80 mph.  Think about the fact that blind people can only get a really lame description of the moon from their boring friends.

"It's this big beatiful rock in the sky.... well it's only white with some grayish areas, and some shadows... oh, it's got these craters in it that make it look like a really pale chick's ass, but covered in cellulite.  Well funny thing about it is that you only get to see it in it's full form every now and then for like one night.  Fuck it, how about I just go describe what I think Katy Perry's tits look like."

Yeah that sounds fucking stellar. 

Now I'm hard over the thought of what it'd be like to see Saturn or Jupiter(edit: GIANT Saturn and Jupiter, not those bullshit specs we can "see" right now, thanks for the heads up, jerk sister) from our rock while tripping balls or rolling face at a deamau5 show at Penn's Landing.  Space is dandy as fuck, take this for example: www.fastcompany.com/1769468/scientist-discover-the-oldest-largest-body-of-water-in-existence-in-space

Enough intergalactic water to supply 28 FUCKING GALAXIES.  Fuck Steve Jobs, this shit rules. I personally can't wait until it's dirt cheap to travel into space, but if I'm lucky I'll be 80ish when that happens and unless my hand-eye coordination is good enough for Call of Duty at that age, I see no reason for living. 

Also, we're finding green blobs in space.  We're fucked.


Scourge of the universe.

Also also,  I did some calculations as to what could happen if this green stuff ever hits earth.

Kinda excited now.



Forever imagining Katy Perry's tits,

JoeyG

I have nothing against MLK

Last week I had to read Martin Luther King Jr.'s letter from a Birmingham jail and try to draw connections to Thoreau, the founding fathers, etc. in the vein of the American outlaw.  Not difficult at all once you break down whatever documents you're studying.  The problem laid within the deed of reading the letter; definitely the longest letter I've ever had to read but in no way, shape, or form a difficult read... I actually got through the first few paragraphs pretty quickly.  No, my issue is that I am an immature asshole sadist.

Take note that the setting of this scene is the Wesley College "library", I use quotation marks only because it's treated like a shithole animal house by the idiots who attend the school.  I digress.  About a fifth of the way through the letter I noticed from the corner of my eye, an ant marching its ass up the window sill at a 90 degree angle.  I am gazing at this guy's progress with a childlike innocence that comes second only to Tod before Copper had to start hunting him in The Fox and the Hound.  I am absolutely entranced by the movement of this fucking ant, so much that I'm starting to get jealous.  Reality kicks in and I'm still an overworked college kid who has to read way to much this semester.

That's when I noticed the spiderwebs at the bottom of the window sill.

Fuck.  Fuck fuck fuck.  I slowly pull a pen from my backpack, eyes locked on my tiny adversary, steadily marching his punic trek.  Fuck.  I slllooooowwwwlllllyyyyy move the pen to the front of the ant.  And knock it off it's fucking feet.  Fuck.  I watch in slow motion as the ant frantically spins into a downward spiral of an apocalyptic ending.  My stomach churns.  I am the wretch.  Fuck.  The ant takes a header into the entanglement and kicks all six of its appendages in such a frenzied manner, that I begin to regret ever becoming a product of this American environment filled with sex and violence.  Fuck.  Tears fill my eyes...

I need to fix this.  I must make this right.

I immediately start hacking away at the web only to realize that I'll never use this pen again because spider webs are gross as fuck.  I eventually beat the any out of the mess but didn't realize that it is now stuck in a penny-sized wad of spider gunk.  I swear I can hear the screams of this little guy and each one tears titanic pieces of moral fiber away from my soul.  At this point I brought in another pen that I will never ever use again and am surgically separating the fuck out of this mess I've created and the ant is only making shit worse by spazzing out.  I debate yelling at it to stop, but quickly dimissed the thought.  No yelling in the library.  There's not much I can do at this point, most of the web are gone but the ant is still covered in the webs and moving around at a solid pace.  He even starts doing his 90 degree angle thing up the window again buts ends up deciding against it and just wanders around on the sill for a bit.  I breathe a sigh of relief and get back to Marty's letter, which pales in comparison to the heroic rescue I just staged.  Again, like a stupid child, I become sidetracked and check on my new best friend only to find that he COMPLETELY FUCKING VANISHED!  I check the upper half of the window and it's frame, I scour the wall and the floor, completely baffled by this little dude's disappearance.  I'm not sure if I should be happy or upset about this, after its life changing experience that we shared it just dips out?  I direct my gaze out the window and what I see on the other side of the sill is so much more powerful to me than this letter, this course, and this entire college.  The ant is on its hind legs, face pointed towards the sun, eerily similar to Andy Dufresne in Shawshank.  I threw up a fist for ant power and quietly continued my reading. 

Another three minutes went by and I started playing the Sims on my Facebook.  The reading didn't get done.


Distractedly,

JoeyG

Stuff I wish I was good at

Through my self-loathing I believe I've established that I hate all of my friends a lot and that Leonardo Da Vinci made some really gnarly shit.  I'm also looking for websites that give away money.  For free.  I'm open to any reccomendations for that because stumbleupon isn't helping.  BUT what stumble IS helping me out with, is my coping with the fact that I am pretty useless as far as art goes.  I'm sure that I've got some grandesque visions that would change the world for the better, as it stands though, I have no canvas for said brilliance.  Crafty aptitude, craptitude for short, is something I need to work on.

So in the mean time, why not bone over what I think is some of the coolest shit ever: graffiti. 
I won't hate on the smaller tags, but epic bombs and murals and all that creative shit are what really get me wet.  The way that culture evolved since the 60's is mindblowing; engravings in walls, markers and shoe polish on trains and buildings, to the spray styles now, only an idiot would chalk this stuff up to be vandalism when it's really artistic(and punk) as fuck.  I swear to god at this instant that I'm trying to freehand copy some of the most basic shit the internet is providing for me and my stuff is about as good as if you handed Helen Keller a paint can and asked her to do work.



- Da Vinci



F'real though, you gotta think about how the fuck they get these enormous pieces that usually only consist of their neato tag names on the underpasses on I-95 without getting busted by the one time.  

HUUUUUUUUGE tags on trains baffle me too, doesn't that shit take a while to do?  If you can look past the mess of black scribble that you see in cities, there is actually some pretty slick art to be seen.  I don't know nearly enough about the process that goes into spraying VERY hazardous chemicals in the direct vicinity of you face, but I am so upset that I've squandered any possible artistic talent I would've had into video games and substance abuse.  Last semester someone wrote "With God, Anything is Possible" in red ink and a nice big heart on a desk... I felt ballsy and full of 21 year old teen angst so I crossed out 'God' and put "SLAYER" in scrawling black satan ink.  Sofuckinglame.

I'm not trying to dick ride Banksy or Shepard Fairey or anybody who does a mean job, but a lot of what the lesser known peeps do is cool and I feel like the strictly cop-oriented audience, for whom this blog was concieved, should show a little god damn artistic appreciation.  Go write on stuff!  Don't draw dicks and shit!  All I know is that I'm probably going to be bored when school starts back up for me and with a 3 hour gap inbetween my classes and no porn nearby... I'm coppin a fresh set of sharpees and stickin it to the man.  Also I really want a Mike Giant tattoo, so if anyone can help me out with that I would love to have tatted up Mexican chicks all over me.  Seriously.



This.  On my face.



 Forever writing pointless bullshit,

JoeyG

Adam Kapa is a douche.

Ugh, so about how I love getting wasted with my parents.  We're out on the main strip in Newark, doing the damn thang, and we see this outrageous line to get into a mediocre bar(I will never buy into the Klondike Kate's hype).  In this line, I shit you not I see TWO adult males wearing "FREE WEEZY" shirts, with that gremlin-lookin motherfucker on the front. 
You're shitting me, right? 

I don't understand this baffling phenomena of wearing "FREE *your favorite shitty incarcerated rapper*" t shirts.  At what point do these goons confuse fashion for ludicrous political statements that turn these priviledged yuppies into anarchists?  Do you really want anarchy?  Then let that dickhead run around with his guns and let him MURDER ANOTHER HUMAN BEING!  Are you for serious?  OK, we'll wear a shirt for an average rapper completely guilty of carrying guns illegaly but we won't wear shit for a miscarriage of justice where 3 kids from West Memphis are wrongfully accused of buttfucking and murdering a toddler?  We, as humans, would rather the innocent death metal kids go to prison, than the obviously guilty rapper?  Fuck off and die, white America. 

Dont' worry though, folks,  these kids are just SWAGGIN THA FUCK OUT!!!  Look, I understand that we all bite our "style"/"attitude"/etc from somewhere, I am very aware that originality is on it's last legs as far as wardrobes and lifestyles go.  We sample everything from somewhere else, even when I think I'm cute for wearing a band tee from some really shitty hardcore band you haven't heard of, I'm just imitating.  We're wearing someone else's shit, no biggie... but apparently suburbia turned that into swag.  Do NOT get me wrong, there are some real dudes out there swaggin' out(I see you Based God! FUCKMYBITCH?), but in this case imitation is the sincerest form of pop culture rape/homicide. 

check this verb out: SWAGGER to conduct oneself in an arrogant or superciliously pompous manner; especially : to walk with an air of overbearing self-confidence

They actually used the word "pompous" in that, unreal. 
Can we keep it up though?  Can we possibly allow these assholes to run around in our Business Communications courses flaunting the fact that they don't want to obey simple gun control laws?  Fuck those faux-hipsters.  I dunno about you, but I'm sick as shit of seeing a picture of someone in appropriate concert gear taken from their mac, and having some aspect of the word "swag" be incorporated into it.  If taking pictures of yourself from your mac was cool, THEN NONE OF YOU ASSHOLES WOULDN'T BE DOING IT!!!!  But really,  I can't go off on hipsters right now, they're a different sport, and boy howdy, do I hate hipsters.



Remember when you were on Degrassi?  Eat a dick.



Bottom line, this shit needs to stop.  I understand that you want your favorite rapper of all time to put out your next favorite song of all time, but don't act like the law of the United States of America doesn't apply to your favorite asshole.  Normally I don't give a shit what anyone wears as long as it isn't too offensive(bleeding vaginas are usually where I call it quits), I can deal with it.. but being offensive and being an idiot aren't even remotely similar.  It's just starting to chaff my buns when I see these jokers run around in these trendy tee's making a fool of themselves.  I'm just a cynical asshole though.  What the fuck do I know?



Free this motherfucker instead,

Forever jacking off to bufferin' vids of Asher Roth eating applesauce,

JoeyG





Sweet ink, dick.

So far I've seen two different people with 69's tattooed on themselves. No relation between either of these people, one of them merely passed me by and sent waves of confusion through my being and the other person is a douche.  Why the fuck, douche or no douche, would anyone get a 69 permanently etched onto their skin?  I needed an answer, so I asked around the office(shitty restaurant) and got a startling answer: "It's the Cancer sign."

...wut?

The fact that there are still human beings who casually trust in fictitious patterns in the sky and ludicrous news paper columns kinda worries me.  Aside from the delusional women that you work with and people who didn't graduate from high school in the 90's, who is neurotic enough to have a symbol of utter nothingness mean enough to be a tatoo?  Remember when everyone thought there was a new magical astronomy sign and people started losing this shit over whether or not they were going to go from being a Leo to being a weak ass Virgo(god forbid) for the rest of their life?  Imagine having that Cancer tattoo become exactly what I thought it was, a vulgar ole' 69.

Granted there are really shitty tattoos out there, but an astronomy themed bod mod is right up there with a dolphin or ladybug on your ankle or upper back.  I kinda want to ask a girl with a tramp stamp what the fuck was going through her head when she let a stranger change the way men view her for the rest of her life, definitely on the to-do list.  I like to think that for the most part, what few friends I have that have gotten tattooed have some pretty neat shit on there, part of the reason why I dont have a tat yet; I don't want it to suck!  Initials on the back of arms are pretty bad too, you know those beefy jocks with an Olde English letter on each tricep.  I find myself guessing what their names are if I'm ever stuck behind these clowns.

James Earl Jones. Play your cards right and you get to see the E.

I really don't think it's an outlandish thing to ask, but fucking THINK before you get ink(I hate myself for doing that right there). I'm gonna sit on my ass and make a poopoo noise the next time I see a facebook uploaded picture of your neato koi fish, or music notes because you love music so fucking much, or cherry blossums taking up your entire torso, because you're gonna make me scoff at you when I see it in public and you're really just making me more negative than I already am.  But whatever, 5 day weekend, get waste.

Forever Getting Waste,

JoeyG

BIG GULPS, HUH???

Welp, I'm gonna do it.  If anybody has ever been flattered, amused,or beguiled by the words that come out of my face then you may be pleased to hear that this is your new source for textual stimulation.  No telling how often I'll write, nor how often I'll write something interesting, nor how many of you turkeys will read this... but I'm confident that I'll please what little demographic I reach.  As for now though,  Phils are down going into the 9th, and I really want Fuqua and the boys to get to 102. 

 So I must leave you with a gem that I found during my bedroom travels.

Aint that somethin?


Promiscuously,

JoeyG