There are two options when it comes to facial hair; you can grow it or you can’t grow it. That’s it, that’s all.   It is when those inbetweeners try to add to their filth cache by letting it run ramped that I take offense.  What they’re doing is an insult to both the bearded and the bare faced. Let’s take Mitch here for example:

Dirtface Von Ihateyou

It looks like somebody threaded 7 pubes into his exposed check while he slept on a pillow of armpit hair clippings in hopes that his night tears would affix them to the other cheek.  Mitch, if you can hear me, I’m going to offer you three very valuable words of advice: Bic, Gillette & Schick. Just walk into a Duane Reade and start crying, someone will figure out what you’re looking for.  If that doesn’t work maybe try not sucking for a few days, see how that pans out.

Long live the Ukraine.

Now let’s examine each item in a clockwise fashion starting with….

What we have here is the sign identifying the specific region of the Furniture section we were in.  If you can’t quite make it out I’ll  give you a hint: It’s the Casual Furniture section.

This is a sign identifying the price of the table they fancied most.  That price would be $179.

This would be the brown bag that our ORB (Old Russian Broad) brought her 3-course breakfast in. Egg sandwich, OJ & rocks.

This is a sign identifying the price of the table that was a bit of their price range. That price would be $279.

This little gem right here is the purse of our ORB #1.  You’ll notice that she chose to keep it away from her “work station.”

These broads may be grimey but you cannot  tell me they aren’t  100% focused and committed to the cause. Which is unnecessarily eating breakfast IN THE GOD DAMN CASUAL FURNITURE SECTION OF KMART.   Are these two really that hard-up for somewhere to eat & read that they default to Kmart?  Judging by how they carried themselves this was one their first sample furniture display meal.  When  you get right down to it, the lesson here is simple: I should stop sleeping with old women I meet in the casual furniture sections of sub-par department stores.

Coming soon part II of this story: “My Sunday Afternoon at Sears.”

ANYWAYS, let’s get into how it went and it went sucky.  You see, being a (aspiring) stand-up comedian makes for an awkward transition into improv because improv is about the TEAM and not yourself.  Why  that’s especially difficult for me is because I am a raging, attention whore of a human being so “sharing” the funny moment does not come naturally.  BUT, I do have the capacity for change and change I will. Sharing is caring and caring will always get you (at the very least) a sympathy HJ.

Next update coming the night of  Monday 3/22.

2010: THE RISE OF THE LLAMA

Comic Books: The Abstinence Manual of the Adult Nerd

I’m going to list what I find wrong with this picture (in no particular order) and I want to know if you agree, disagree or perhaps have found a lamentable tidbit I may have overlooked:

1. The kids sized medium waffle shirt that is typically worn as a layer during winter activities and not as a “Hey look at my Emo thermal fashion statement piece of thrift store crap.”
2. The fact that Waffle Walt over here has the facial expression of Moby after a 3-hour cry session.
3. The Ebony & Ivory iPhone Anti-Social-A-Thon.
4. Tribal bicep tattoo on a poorly attempted flexed bicep.
5. That they came to a coffee shop to read individual comic books.
6. Which are each OVER 100 PAGES LONG.
7. They’re late for a LAN party and not sure how to softly break the news to their Dungeon Master.

Pube shavin and flag burning, the typical redneck Saturday.

Now I’m not positive but I believe the auto-generated search options are a result of what has either been most frequently or recently searched.  Regardless, I have a feeling there are a handful of teenage boys sitting in ERs regretting that they opted for learning how to properly cite websites.

Well fellow blogger, ‘extraordinary’ is a very relative term now isn’t it?  I can’t deny that spending Saturday night drinking champagne from the armpit of Bar Rafaeli while she makes plans to massage your feet for the better part of Sunday is in fact an extraordinary weekend to most men I know.  But watching a 36 hour marathon of Steel Magnolias as I mold a life-sized replica of Sally Field out of cookie dough while crying is also an extraordinary weekend…to me.  The point of all this is that I like crying.

That's a good cookie.

“Interesting blog you have by the way! Intense, to be sure, and very very funny. Topical, and things one thinks but doesn’t often say (or say enough). . I liked it!”

I’m going to now breakdown each sentence as interpreted by me, the author of punchingllamas.com:

First Sentence: “Interesting blog you have by the way!”
Translation: “In case you weren’t aware, everything you’ve written is literary trash.”

Second Sentence: “Intense, to be sure, and very very funny.”
Translation: “You’re a sick fuck and I almost threw up in my mouth.”

Third Sentence: “Topical, and things one thinks but doesn’t often say (or say enough).”
Translation: “Why in God’s name are you even talking about this kind of shit?!”

Fourth Sentence: “:).”
Translation: “I’m old and still believe emoticons make backhanded compliments seem more complimentary than backhanded.”

Fifth Sentence: “I liked it!”
Translation: “We’ll never be speaking again.”

The lesson here is simple, only trust the opinion of someone who is equally or more funny than you are. You may also take every opinion and tear it a new asshole. Whatever floats your boat.

YOU BETTER PRAY TO THE GOD OF SKINNY PUNKS