For Fellas that aren't Yellas

BEST COMPLIMENT EVER ALERT! Take note, fellas. Next time you see a lady at the disco that you want to compliment say, "Hey, sexy, are you eating enough? I'm worried. Your pants seem loose."

I know women and there is no woman who wouldn't immediately start having sex with you. 1000% guaranteed or your money back!

Basically, I hate you

Are you the kind of person who is so deeply affected by having the sniffles that you opt to incessantly mention it to innocent by-standers?

If you answered yes to that question I totally hate you and will at some point probably murder you. When you complain about having the sniffles you're taking your uncomfortable sensory experience and creating a verbalized, uncomfortable sensory experience for the fucking world. In that regard you are no better than a person who purposely infects people with HIV, the clap, or gum disease. In sum, complaining about having the sniffles makes you a total monster. In closing I'd like to take this opportunity to list notable persons who have been notorious for complaining about the sniffles and shit.

Judas
Mrs O'Leary's cow
The noid
The "time to make the donuts guy"
And finally, Joey Stalin

Refined Palate

Isn't it weird when you want to eat a dog because they are so adorable?

Isn't it also weird when you actually do eat a dog and then you post its picture on your blog pretending like you just "wanted" to eat it but didn't?

G.F.Man Grill Related Book Pitch

The train smelled like eggs today. I think its safe to assume someone brought their George Foreman Grill on the train and cooked themselves some eggs Benedict. For the record, I think that was wholly inappropriate. I wish someone would write an etiquette book just about the G.F. Man grill. I outlined the book's content below in case someone wants to write this sure bet for the NEWBERRY!

Title: 4 Uses for your G.F. Man Grill- NOT!
Content:

1. Do NOT cook eggs Benedict on the 7:54 train into Union Station.

2. Do NOT use as a tanning bed for celebrity babies.

3. Do NOT use as a crimping iron for your hair.

4. Do NOT put it in the gas tank of Doc Brown's DeLorean

Anxiety is Forever: DeFears

My List of Fears (Phase Two; Countdown to Scariness- Items 15-1):

15) The fact that the Walmart on Townline Road has a Subway in it that sells tacos.

14) M.A.S.H, but only the TV show. I like the movie.

13) Dropping my keys in a sewer grating

12) Civil War ghosts will haunt my house.

11) Little dogs.

10) That Dan will be pointing at my eye and an earthquake will strike and he will be jolted into poking out my eye.

9) Neanderthal babies, specifically that somehow instead of having a regular baby I will have a Neanderthal baby. In my eyes, this will occur because I have some weird, recessive Neanderthal gene that has been dormant in my bloodline for 600,000 years.

8) That I will become so overcome by the smell of my ex-landlord’s BO, that I will pass out in our backyard and he will drag my unconscious body into his apartment and have his way with me.

7) Any rhyme or limerick that is meant to deter bathroom patrons from sloppy urination.

6) Cloned livestock.

5) That the nation of China will find out how much I hate them.

4) That I will be putting holes in a potato in prep for making a baked potato and someone will jump out of the pantry and I will stab my hand.

3) That I will be receiving communion at Church, but instead of the priest putting Eucharist in my mouth he accidentally inserts a peacock’s feather.

2) That despite all my efforts I will develop not just a fupa, but the *largest and best fupa the world has ever seen. (* in width, height, and girth).

1) That science will team up with ESPN and isolate all of the things my husband finds compelling about sports and fantasy sports and embody them into a marketable, robot girlfriend casing that costs $100 or less.

Anxiety is Forever: DeFears

My List of Fears (Phase One: Items 30-16):

30) Losing my eye or eyes to one or all of the points on an umbrella.

29) Late 19th, early 20th century ghost children that “live” in hospitals.

28) Losing a finger to the spokes of a spinning bicycle wheel.

27) Nocturnal sleep-related eating disorder (NSRED).

26) Blowing a bubble with gum and a feather landing on it and getting in my mouth.

25) Blind people, especially the eyeless.

24) That while playing hide n seek I will hide in the bathtub and while I’m in there, someone will come in and use the toilet.

23) The 1950s.

22) The 1960s.

21) Quakers.

20) That someone has hidden a camera in my car and will play the tape for public viewing.

19) Episiotomies.

18) People who think the movie Full Metal Jacket is a comedy.

17) Yard sales in which most of the items for sale are made of yarn or have yarn attached to them.

16) Eating chicken nuggets at a picnic and accidentally popping a pigeon or a sparrow’s head into my mouth because I am distracted as to how fun the picnic is.

DamnTheLittleMan

When you only have one baby you can't stop loving it just because it pisses you off. They're the only baby you have so you must take what they dish out at you. As a parent, you're totally powerless. If you only have one baby, this is probably what it looks like:

This power struggle completely shifts if you have 8 babies at the same time. By having more babies at once you have created a more competitive market for your love. When you have 8 babies, you can hate a baby for being a dick and still have 7 more where that came from. Take a look at these 8 babies and notice how easy it is to stop loving one of them...

Guess how many of the mothers I surveyed saw baby number 8 and said, "What’s with that unibrow? LAST PLACE!!!!"... 100%. Yep, 100%. Ok, I'm lying. It was 110%.

Conclusion: Octomom is the luckiest mom in the world.

HappyBaby,SadBaby

I saw a baby laughing at the grocery store the other day so I decided to bring it back to the cruel reality of life by giving it the death stare. There's nothing more effective in shutting up a baby than the death stare. A stranger is scary enough but a stranger that clearly wants to kill you with their eyes is an unstoppable force. This is how the baby's face changed... This is how my face changed...

HumanBuffer

If you are like me you live your life perpetually fearful of being pushed in front of approaching trains while you are waiting on the platform at Union Station.
Here are some strategies I have compiled to alleviate this fear:

1) If you see a crazy person, start walking backwards. Some schools of thought say that this motion should be done ever so slowly so as not to startle anyone, but I say do it super fast. Really get your arms and legs pumping. Onlookers will think you are exercising and your actions will promote physical fitness. Physical fitness = patriotism. U-S-A. U-S-A. U-S-A. U-S-A.

2) Always create a human buffer between you and the tracks. Essentially sandwich yourself between the crazy person and another commuter. Now there are two schools of thought as to what makes a person a perfect human barrier. Some might say you should stand behind a very large or obese person. That way, when the crazy tries to push you onto the tracks you basically bounce off the large commuter. The other strategy is to position yourself behind a smaller human being, like a child or an anorexic. That way, when the insanoid tries to push you onto the tracks you bump into the lighter person and transfer your motion to the lighter person so they go flying on to the tracks. This is the preferred method because I personally believe that it gets “killing” off of the crazy person’s mind thereby minimizing the likelihood that the crazy will try more than once to push you. See the illustration below for details.
3) Curl into a ball and lay on the ground. This should be a last resort.


Whatever your preferred method, do what you can to stay “not crushed by a train.”

ExplosiveIllness

I sent my coworker the following card after she left work at 4:59pm and not 5:00pm:

PAGE1:

I was devastated to hear that you left work early due to illness. I think it is safe to assume you have diarrhea. I went from cubicle to cubicle telling everyone who works in the Chicago office about your battle with the violent bitch that is “the rhea.” This card represents the well wishes of everyone I have informed about your spastic colon. May God be with you, Rachel


PAGE 2:

FaceLady

You never get to see your face when you're speaking. Unless you're speaking to your twin… or talking to yourself while looking in the mirror… or watching yourself yell at babies via nannycam footage. This concept frightened me today when I watched a woman’s facial expressions while she was talking about the show The Bachelor. This is what she looked like:

I hope my face never looks like this when I talk. If I had one wish I would wish for 70 more wishes. Then I would wish 70 times that my face never looks like this woman’s face when I talk.