Showing posts with label take your next vacation in Belarus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label take your next vacation in Belarus. Show all posts

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

they're GRRRRREEEEEAT!

Good morning various dipshits and dipshittalinas, welcome to Tuesday, Bad Sandwich number 367. I’m waiting for the cable guy to come and look at my phone. It’s never worked and these lazy fuckers always seem to double talk their way out of fixing it properly. I don’t like the pressure of dealing with the cable guy if we’re being honest. Sounds pretty wimpy, right? Well, here’s the thing. I’m out of my element in that I know nothing about cable and phone installation and this guy, when he shows up is gonna be, and this is a guarantee, lazy as shit and not interested in doing anything. That puts us at odds right away. Now, add to the mix that I’ve got a pregnant wife with nesting syndrome who is also very easily riled to anger when dealing with bureaucracy and with my ineptitude and you’ve got a recipe for a sweaty man sitting there while the cable guy does nothing, worrying about what he’s gonna say to placate his wife who only wants the fucking phone to work. “Come on! Don’t be such a fucking pussy!” I scream to myself, but it’s no use. I’m lost in this world of fiber optics, man. Lost.
Well, sorry. My thing is a whole other thing, brah. I’ll stand in front of a thousand people and just start talking and have no idea what I’m gonna say and just kind of hope I stick the landing. That’s my talent here on this earth. Hell, that’s what I’m doing right now, man, just in print form. Handling housecalls though, not my forte.
Well, it’s too late. I’m stuck here, just waiting for this guy to come in, look around, say “hey, nothing I can do here” and then when I try to call his supervisor or whatever, my phone will cut out. that’s the twisted genius of these fucks at Comcast. I can’t even call to bitch because they won’t fix my phone. That’s some fucking M Night Shyamalan shit man. Well, I’m feeling doomed. That’s all there is to it. Any of you install phone jacks? Wanna help a brother out? Come on! This is three hundred and sixty six pages of free content I’ve given you. The least you can do is come over here and install some phone jacks and run a bunch of cable through my place, right? Right. See you soon.

Now, briefly let’s talk Tiger Woods, kay? I mean, I wouldn’t be an irresponsible media pundit if I didn’t weigh in on the public apology, right? Of course not. Okay, here’s how I see it. He’s a total pussy and for whatever reason, he needs to keep those millions of dollars coming in. I guess I get it. It’s hard to scale back. If you’re playing stadiums and then suddenly you’re reduced to playing theaters, it stings, even though playing theaters is still a real benchmark of great success. So, yeah. Tiger was getting kind of shined by his endorsements due to his moral slumming, so he had to announce his deep regret and stuff so they’d keep him on the wheaties boxes and on the shoes and shit, right?
I know! He’s already got millions and billions. Who cares if the cash train stops? Well, let me throw another analogy at you. Let’s say, arbitrarily that Tiger Woods has fourteen endorsements, right? Each one of these endorsements he puts in a little time with and they each satisfy him in his own little way, not unlike if he was, let’s say, fucking fourteen different women, right? Okay, you with me? Good. So, when you’re fucking fourteen different women, that’s great. And SURE, you only need three or four women to be totally satisfied, but man, fourteen is GREAT! And when they all stop fucking you at once, well, you’ll probably do whatever you can to get them back, because that’s what you’re used to, not because it’s what you need. You follow? We’re talking about endorsements here.
Anyway, point being, here’s what I think he should have said:

“Hey hey! It’s me, tiger. I’ve been in the news a lot lately. Yeah, I know. You all know all about it. Now listen up. Let me ask you all something? Ever been the best at something? At anything at all? No? Hmmm…Okay, ever been the best EVER at something? No? Okay, let me ask you all this, then: ever have fourteen women want to fuck you at the same time? How about two? No? Didn’t think so. So leave me alone. You have no fucking idea what my life is like or the pressure I face. Suck a dick, everyone. I’ve got plenty of money. Oh, and leave my wife and kids alone you parasitic assholes. I’m sorry you’re untalented, and you have to take pictures of me for a living but get off my neighbor’s lawn, kay? Thanks Adnan.”

I don’t know. I think a little honesty would have been refreshing, but hey, who am I to talk. I can’t even stand up to the fucking cable guy. Maybe I would have done the tears and mom hug too…I guess Tiger’s right. I have no idea what kind of pressure he’s under.

Okay, I’m out. One final question: Hey! Girl from NY! Did you get laid or what? Jesus.