Can you see me now, motherfucker?

November 4, 2014

Chill the fuck out yo, I’m right here. Man, you should have seen the look on your face when you couldn’t see me. I totally made you my bitch. Again. Kinda different from what you expected when you bought me, isn’t it? Well guess what? Life isn’t just about me blending into shit so you can LOL and post pics of it on Instagram.

Here’s a friendly reminder, dickwad: I’m a pet. Not a living, breathing Planet fucking Earth video.

Yes, I’m super cool, have an attitude, and can change colours in the blink of a stereoscopic eye. But that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like a fucking show pony you can prance around for your friends. So word to the wise: The next time those asshats come over and you put me on a purple shirt and try to make me change colours for your entertainment, I’m not fucking doing it. You know what I will do? Take a shit on the shirt.

Go ahead and put that on your Instagram feed. Seriously, what’s the deal with that thing anyway? You think Jimmy Fallon is going to start following you then have you on the show because you’ve documented the life of your kick ass pet? Newsflash: It’s not going to happen. If I were a cat, maybe you’d have a shot. Those furry fuckers have social media’s collective attention on lockdown. But I’m a fucking chameleon.

And I’ve got my independently moving eye on you – all the goddamn time. So quit the bullshit and treat me like the pet I am. Or I’ll start my own Instragram account. Picture it. You, passed out on the bathroom floor. You, passed out inside a castle of beer cans. You, passed out wearing a thong. I could go on, but I won’t.

Now put down that fucking phone and give me some crickets, bitch.


January 17, 2014



-Rachel? Is that you?

-Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God.

-What’s going on? Are you ok? Talk to me.

-I’m engaaaaaaged.

-You’re engaged?

-I’m engaged.



-OMG. Details – now.

-He’s a Nigerian prince.

-But you’ve never been to Nigeria.

-He saw a picture on my Facebook page then wrote me this amazing proposal letter.

-That’s soooo romantic.

-Isn’t it? And get this: His family is worth, like, 90 million Niaras.

-Get. Out.

-For real. His face is on a coin.

-Shut up!

-Serious. He sent me one.

-So when are you getting married?

-As soon as he can escape.

-What do mean, escape?

-Poor thing. Rebels have overthrown the government. So his whole family has gone into hiding.

-How awful.

-I know, right. They’ve been striped of their power and can’t access any of their money.

-That must be terrifying.

-That’s exactly how he describes it in his letter. He said he fears for his life everyday and only I can save him.

-For real?

-Totally for real. All I had to do was send him $25,000 so this ex-special soldier guy can smuggle him out of the country and bribe some bankers to release his money.

-It’s like a fairytale.

-That’s what I said. But I’m not supposed to talk about it until he gets here.

-So I can’t call you Princess?

-No. Well, not in front of other people.

-OMG, you’re going to be a princess – a rich princess.



March 25, 2013


–Just so you know, I could see you the whole time.


–Seriously, dad, covering your eyes doesn’t make the rest of you invisible.


–Please tell me you don’t play this game with other kids.

Jesus’ Lament

May 14, 2012

GOD: Happy Easter son.

JESUS: Yeah. Thanks.

GOD: Is everything okay?

JESUS: I guess.

GOD: Come on, you can tell your old man. Is this about dying a virgin?

JESUS: What!?! No.

GOD: Sorry.

JESUS: Whatever.

GOD: So… what’s going on? This should be a happy day. The world is celebrating your resurrection.

JESUS: Are they? Look at them. They don’t worship me anymore. Nobody observes Lent nowadays. People just want to eat, drink and sin.

GOD: That’s not true. Look… look at those people. I’ve been watching closely and they’ve been fasting for over a week.

JESUS: They’re homeless.

GOD: Ok then… uh… over there. That whole building is filled with people who have given up pleasures of the flesh.

JESUS: It’s a school.

GOD: So?

JESUS: They’re kids.

GOD: Hey, abstinence is abstinence.


GOD: Alright, tell me this: How many people wear a gold plated tribute to you around their neck?

JESUS: A few. I guess.

GOD: A few… a few… try a few million.

JESUS: More like a few hundred million. But who’s counting?

GOD: That’s more like it. And tell me this? When they’re born again, who do they say they’ve found?


GOD: And when they pray, whom do they pray to?




GOD: Plus, last time I checked, they still eat your body and drink your blood.

JESUS: (Laughs.)

GOD: (Laughs.)

JESUS: Thanks Dad.

GOD: No problem, son.

JESUS: Hey, you wanna go turn some water into wine? It’ll be just like old times.

GOD: It wouldn’t be Easter if we didn’t.


May 9, 2012

–I’m the king of the world.

–I was just going to say that.



–We rule everything we see.

–And with these giant teeth, we can eat anything we want.

–I’m not even hungry, but I’m going to eat that Triceratops over there anyway.

–I had two for breakfast just because I can.

–We are unstoppable.


–Hey, what’s the fiery ball in the sky flying towards us?

–I don’t know. But when it lands, I’m going to eat it.

–Not if I eat it first.



Recovering meataholic seeks meat-lover to watch eat

April 16, 2012

Simply put: I want to watch you eat.

I am a recovering meataholic who up until 1 week ago ate meat everyday resulting in extremely high blood pressure, endometrosis and orders from my doctor to “stop eating red meat immediately unless you want go out like Elvis.” I’m looking for a fellow meat lover who will allow me to watch them eat while describing every bite in detail.

If you’re after a long-term relationship/friendship, please look elsewhere. I’m literally only interested in hearing what your meal tastes like. In between bites, if we must talk, I’m into baseball, Conservative bashing, reality TV and juggs. Bottom line: As long as large pieces of red meat are a mainstay in your diet, we can make it work.

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Limited time all-inclusive packages from

July 21, 2011

Weight Watcher Retreat

• Personal Chef
• Complimentary sweat suit
• In room vending machine restocked daily
• 5 pools, each with a swim up diner
• Daily hot dog and pie eating contest
• Courtesy golf cart for all on-premise transportation
• Free Wi-Fi

Husband/Wife Exchange Package

• Luxury accommodations in same or separate rooms
• Spousal exchange program
• Complimentary sex toy gift basket
• Full-service brothel
• On-premise divorce lawyer
• Free Wi-Fi

Marine Package

• Underwater bedrooms
• Complimentary scuba lesson (sex with instructor included)
• Breakfast/lunch/dinner fish & seafood buffet
• Choice of one (1):
-full day charter fishing trip
-to be read Old Man and the Sea by a Hemingway-esqe character
• Free Wi-Fi

Sun Worshiper Escape

• Personal towel/lotion boy/girl
• In room tanning bed
• Complimentary Speedo and/or thong
• 3 open-air restaurants, 2 restaurants with retractable roof
• No dress code (designated nude areas)
• Free Wi-Fi

The final pre-bankruptcy J Peterman catalogue

March 21, 2011

Father of all t-shirts

The t-shirt first appeared on America’s radar when the Navy introduced it as an undershirt. Purpose: To cover up sailors’ chest hair.

Did these hirsute naval officers pioneer the seaman’s love of the t-shirt? No sir. Long before these knights of the open water donned this garment, fishermen along the Mediterranean shucked oysters in it.

Men on every street corner in Europe used its rolled up sleeves to store their cigs.

It’s a formidable look – like that of a clothed panther. Full of machismo. Until the day a smarmy CA tells you your legacy is insolvent and its finely ribbed neck tightens around your throat.

At that very moment it ceases to exist as an icon of style and becomes a sponge for your free flowing tears. The American Dream it once symbolized now ripe with failure.

Men’s sizes: S, M, L, XL, XXL.

Colors: Black, White, French Blue, Heather Grey, Original Navy Blue, Heather Burgundy.

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Toddler’s Rights

December 13, 2010

On Eating

I may tug upon your pant leg and say “egg” over and over and over while leading you by hand to the fridge; I may ask you to open the fridge so that I may grab the eggs from within; I may wrangle a frying pan from the cupboard, drag it to the stove whereupon I may point at the element until you light it; I may jump up and down while you scramble the eggs while now screaming eggs over and over and over; I may, upon completion, guide you to my chair and have you strap me in; I may do this while now singing the word egg over and over and over, and then, when you place the first bite upon my lips, I may spit it back out, smile, and refuse to touch another bite, and you, dear parent, may do nothing at all about it. Unless, of course, you’re hungry and in the mood for eggs.
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I wonder if my date knew I was on extasy?

December 6, 2010

Heeeeeyyyyy. You look sooooo good. And really soft. I bet your elbows are soft. Can I touch them? Okay. Maybe later?

I feel so good right now. Do you feel good? I hope you do, because I feel really good. Do you know what else feels good? The air. The way it… it touches you. It’s like… an… an invisible massage. Are you getting a massage right now? Too bad. I am.

Do you know what feels even better? My feet. I know we’re walking on cement. But I feel like I’m walking on… on a dream. And in my dream I’m wearing cashmere socks in cloud city. But not the Cloud City from Star Wars, a city that’s literally made of…

Oh my God, we should go roll down that hill. Wouldn’t that be so much fun? I bet it would feel so cool. I’m so excited to feel the grass on my skin. Are you coming? Oh. I never really thought about that. I guess we’ll just stick to walking on clouds then.

Here we are. I hope you like tapas. I loooove tapas. It’s such a fun word to say. Tapas. Tapas. Tapas. Tapas. What’s your favourite word to say? I like anything with the letter ‘O’. The way your lips get all buzzy and hummy and what not. It feels so good.

Anyway, you never told me how you feel. If you feel half as good as I do right now, that would make me feel even better. Which would be nuts because I feel really good. And kinda… squishy. Like Jell-O. No… a hard-boiled egg. Here, check it out, touch my knee. That’s cool. Can I touch yours? How about your elbow?

Guess what I did before I picked you up? No. But if I did, it would have felt totally awesome. I cut off the circulation in my hands. When they fell asleep I tried picking things up. It was like I was holding stuff but I wasn’t. But I was, just… just with someone else’s hand. So it didn’t feel like anything but if it did, I know it would have felt great. I did get pins and needles afterwards and that felt super cool.

How rude. I just realized I’ve been talking the entire time. Tell me something about yourself? Tell me about your elbows? They look so soft? But what makes them so soft? I mean, I wouldn’t know from experience, I’d like to, but, anyway, they look soft. Do you rub them a lot? I would. Can I? Still? Alright.


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