I heart Dexter

I heart Dexter. More than I heart gummi red raspberries from Harmons. And those are tough to beat. I heart him so much, that this chart I found on reddit.com was one of the greatest things I have ever come across. It is mesmerizing. Keep killing Dexter, keep killing...

Things I suck at...

Here is a list of things that I absolutely positively suck at. Things that I have tried and epically failed at over and over again.

Dancing
Being bald
Crocheting
Calculating any type of mathematics
Proportioning my body in awkward yoga positions
Fitting in small places
Wearing polyester ties
Singing alto or soprano
Donning the color pink on any type of clothing
Solving a rubik's cube
Wearing size 32 pants
Speaking a foreign language
Not sweating while reading the newspaper
Not sweating period
Playing the sousaphone
Bench pressing my body weight
Nailing a backflip off of a snowboard jump
Not farting when I fall asleep
Eating the vegetable okra
Telling stalker girls to "LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE!"
Being friendly to U of M fans
Not updating my status to something sarcastic
Being a bastard (I can't help that though)
Enjoying Martin Lawrence movies
Navigating through streets that aren't supported by the grid system
Remembering anything on a short-term basis
Figuring out the difference between roast and meatloaf
Having a mustache
Listening to old people talk about discounts at Shopko
Beating my Grandma at cards
Having a brother
Making omelets
Spelling the word ommellette
Having hair on my shoulders


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:N Fairfield Rd,Layton,United States

A player?

My girlfriends roommate is a player. Also called Playa, if you have African-American/Marshall Mathers heritage.

She is 18, and has more boys on the line, then I have neckties. I was a missionary. I have a dumpload. The fact is though, this girl can't seem to get enough attention, adoration and interest from the loads if guys she has on the line.

For example, this week alone she,

* has gotten together and broken up with a guy via text because they didn't want to commit to each other.

* has stayed out till late hours of the night with whoever roams the streets of Ogden.

* has had a cowboy with a big truck, big shoes, and small penis drive all the way from Logan, then take her out to Salt Lake and back.

* has had to have Jo, kick a bald, short guy out of the house at 3 am who more than likely she was "spooning" with.

* and most recently, within the first ten minutes that she walked in to church this morning, has located the nearest single guy in her vicinity, got up and sat next to him, and hasn't shut up since.

Play on playa.


- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:Gramercy Ave,Ogden,United States

5 Teams That I Hate

If I were going to list 5 teams that I absolutely hate, completely abhor, I wish that they would be removed from the face of the earth, they would be these five:



First of all, I almost feel embarrassed that the Maize and Blue is on my blog to begin with. However, this is the most disgusting, most putrid, disrespectful, disgraceful, I would rather make out with a skunk than put on a U of M shirt. Being a solid Buckeye, this team will always be my arch nemesis.



The fact that these stuck up swingers try to buy out every single known baseball player on the planet is ridiculous. If there was a salary cap in baseball, there would never be 20-something championships for the A.L. East cuss words. Curse George Steinbrenner, the world may be a better place now that he is gone.



Growing up, I was trained to be a 49ers fan. Simply because of the fact that Steve Young was a Mormon, and we should all cheer for Mormons. I didn't know any better. For all I knew Troy Aikman was the devil. Emmit Smith whined all the time, Leon Lett was a oversized creature, and Alvin Harper and Michael Irvin were thugs that made us look bad. Now that I have started to understand sports, I realize that all of them did sign contracts with Satan, Tony Romo throws like a girl, and Jerry Jones has just completed the erection of his $1 Billion modern day pyramid in which he will be buried. If you're reading this Jo, don't pass it on to Steph, Burton, your mom, or your brothers. I'm guessing it will only put me deeper in their doghouses...



Losing both the NCAA Football and Men's Basketball Championship to these hussies is a memory that I am still trying to forget as a Buckeye fan. This will forever be the team that I will loathe right next to the Wolverines. They are the Cody Chugg's of my fandom. Why you may ask? Have I failed to mention the John 3:16 faker who does Pro-Life Super Bowl commercials with his Mom, the Tim Tebow? He is one of the reasons I hate this team evermore.



A hockey team you may ask? The Red Wings? Why are they on this list? Simple. I was a Colorado Avalanche fan early on. I loved Peter Forsberg, Joe Sakic, Patrick Roy, Uwe Krupp, they were my idols as I played street hockey. And the cowards from Detroit, the Steve Yzerman, the Chris Chelios, the Chris Osgood, were my nemisis'. I have never liked them, and never will, and wish I had a voodoo doll of Scotty Bowman.

The Nazi Parents

Kids are a ways away. Heck, the M-word is for that matter, but that's another blog. But whenever that day rolls around and I have little Brock's and Brooke's running around there is one thing that I will not be.

An overprotective parent.

Here I sit at an 8th grade girls basketball game, about to cheer on my little sister Jazmin. Seated 10 feet to my left is a screaming behemoth ranting at the ref's for missing that 3-second call on that last possession.

Really? If a missed 3-second call is your biggest worry in this type of venue, then you have issues.

To my right is a pubestache creeper in a leather jacket with a video camera on the girls in front of him. He's either supporting his daughter, or gathering research for his next stalk.

I am in what appears to be my future location for many winter afternoons cheering on my kids. With that being said, I hope and pray I don't turn into a nutcase.

Go, Jazmin, go.

- Posted using BlogPress from my iPhone

Location:S 200 E,Farmington,United States

The Meat Market

I am an ogre.

I am a fat bastard.

I am out of shape.

However, I am not a pretentious, shallow jerkoff who parades around in a cutoff Golds t-shirt, flexing my biceps brachii, latissimus dorsi, and clavicular pectoralis majora for the ladies. I am not a 27-point I.Q. lineman who has to grunt after every rep of my seated row, just so everyone in the gym can see how HARD I am working. I am not an annoying stickler who stands next to the hottest of all hotties on the elliptical, talking about the amazing catch I had in WSU intramural football last week. I am not a fake-n-baker.

I am not a 5'4" skimpy tattoo-adorned hoebag wearing merely a Q-tip, string of lace, and rubber band to show off my "hot bod".

I also do not have a vagina. For the record.

Douchebag seems to be the theme of the month, especially after what has happened this past week. And where I have been for the past three days, as I have begun the reconstruction process of my physical appearance, goes to show that this world has problems. Big ones. When people dedicate their lives solely for the purpose of stretching their musculus deltoideus in front of the mirror just so that everyone else can see how toned they are. We have issues.

I am a new years resolution. In a f***ed up world.

The Tool List

After seven hours of Mountain Dew, steak quesadillas and Divisional Playoff games, three wise sages came up with what is called "The Tool List." Now let me classify what a tool is. To be a tool you must have not a single vapor of respect for anyone surrounding you. You must have a personal compact mirror in which you check yourself every ten seconds. You must have signed a contract with Satan in a pre-existing world. You are a tool. And if you disappear from all existence, not a single tear will be dropped honoring your achievements. You, are a tool.

* Isaiah Thomas
* Martin Lawrence
* Anyone who has been affiliated with the University of Michigan athletic organization; except for Charles Woodsen
* J.R. Smith
* High maintenance dogs
* Anyone except my Uncle that dons the first name Bart
* Mark Sanchez
* The Fox sports animation robot
* Jon Pike
* Rich Rod
* A-Rod
* Anyone who adores the city of Provo
* Moose that stand in the middle of the road up Parley's Canyon
* Hines Ward
* Carlos Boozer
* Nick Saban
* Tim Tebow
* Any actor besides Liam Neeson
* The vegetable Okra
* 17-year old acronym texters (i.e. LOL, ROTFLMAO)
* Shao Khan from Mortal Kombat 2
* Jonah Hill
* The Jonas Brothers
* Anyone who doesn't LOVE "Scott Pilgrim versus the World"
* The creators of the Dodge Caliber
* Anderson Varejao and other flopping foreigners (That includes you, Scola the Goat Raper)
* Anyone who wears a moustache. Except for Tom Selleck and Frank Lojko
* Manny Ramirez
* Athletes who decide to pursue a career in broadcasting following a sub-par sports career
* Unofficial members (You know who you are)
* Nicolas Cage
* And finally, the topper of the list, His Holiness, George Steinbrenner

A Child of the 60's.

I have a roommate that was born two and a half decades late.

His name is Trevor Whitlock, and he is a poster child of the 60's. The kids shaggy hair and wiry frame are being soothed for hours on end as he listens to running tracks by Jim Morrison, Lynard Skynard, and The Rolling Stones.

At times he is off in his own little world. Peace, love, and happiness are his lifetime goals, and I respect the kid for wanting to be a flower child. The recurring dream that keeps revolving in his mind night after night may be being trapped in a never ending shuffle of orgasmic concerto that was once called Woodstock. But that was over 40 years ago, and unless he finds Austin Powers' time machine, all he can do is just sit back and reminisce about the great times that he never had.

DYAC!

Two days ago I was shown the humor of a website called DamnYouAutoCorrect.com. Which displays the frustrating stupidity of the Auto Correct feature on iPhone's, that mixes up the verbiage that is typed too quickly. Ironically, I experienced the same thing this past week as I was trying to explain the quote, "I'm freezing my Royal Rastafarian NeNe's off down here. This is the conversation that followed...

Resolutions, Maybe?

Am I a slacker? Maybe.

Am I lazy? Only on Saturdays in the fall.

Am I a curse word for not keeping my blog updated? Yes. I'll admit to being guilty on that one.

We all start New Years Resolutions. Everyone does. Whether it's losing 20 pounds by March 15th, or committing to ask a different girl out every weekend in hopes of finding that E.C. (Neither of those have been mine.) Everybody makes them. Publicly, privately, or subliminally, everyone sets goals this time of year. So, with that being said, I need to start being a stickler on keeping this crazy post of randomity updated for whoever gives a rats, regardless of if I'm ranting about the nauseous appeal of cinnamon bears, or the dipsticks marketing pictures with a holy figure. I'll keep going on this.

I've been keeping a journal now for quite a while. 9 years and counting I have written every day. Yeah that is something to be proud of. Who knows if anyone is going to care about that in 30 years. And who knows if anyone is going to care about this either. But I'll keep pushing, and publish random thoughts of humor that might bring a chuckle to your face and mine. We'll see what happens...