Douche Open Seeks Sponsor

The inaugural season of the world douche tour will probably begin on Saturday, March 11, 2006. I say probably, because one of the douche bags in question may have to stay at home due to chronic douchiness. It seems his parent may have to come down and help him pack so he can move into a new house that as of this point does not exist. This is surely a sign that his status on the douche tour is well deserved.

Anyhow, given that the other douches will badger him into senselessness, including repeated kicks to his alleged junk, its safe to assume the event will go on as planned. To that end, I am making an urgent plea for sponsorship on this fast approaching event. Sponsorship is easy and rewarding. Please send a bottle of unopened hard liqueur to Barking Bug, 1200 N. veitch St., apt. 808, Arlington, VA, 22201. Money would be accepted, but that would be somewhat gay, so just send the booze. Do this and you will receive all sorts of sponsorship shit, a free barkingbug.com email address, a blog entry, a punch in the face, and any sort of other bullshit that is easy for me to do.

I'd elaborate, but the wife is bitching at me -- bedtime is calling.

You like exoskeleton?

Can someone explain to my why restaurants insist on serving shrimp with a rigid, sharp tail still attached? I took a fancy cooking class today because my mom thought that signing me up would be a good birthday present... This was my big chance to get the answer that has haunted me for years -- I asked the instructor. Unfortunately, she COMPLETELY bsed me. She said it helps the shrimp keeps its form and that she and others actually eat the tail. Can you say "bullshit?" This insufficient answer resulted in a certain amount of rage, and so naturally I was determined to be a bit of a jackass moving forward. And given that I am a bit of a jackass in general, I would imagine I was more of a grade A jackass. Screaming when I was chopping peppers as if I had cut my finger badly was just the start. I also enjoyed pretending to slam my head against the hanging pots and pans, as well as burning myself on the stove. Ahhh.. good times. Personally, my favorite moment was not any of that, but personal reflection--at one point I had to stick my hand into a big pot of stewed tomatoes in order to squish them for about 5-10 minutes to get our creole ready ... and I thought to myself, "how funny is it that I've spent at least this much time today scratching my balls with the same hand?" to me, it just doesn't get too much better than that.

Today's morale of the story -- leaving the tail on shrimp is bullshit.

In other news, the email demon is now in hiding and life as I know it may never be the same as a result.

Email Demon

This man is bad. He is a bad, bad person. He's evil enough that the devil himself warns his kids not to go near that "bad man." And by bad, I mean both bad and gay, not that there is anything wrong with being gay, that is more of a coincidence.

This bean-flicking demontoid is guilty of just about every sin against humanity you can imagine, but my concern today is his obnoxiously bad email skills. I suppose we all get writers block now and then, but there is nothing worse than when some jackass decides he has to insert his one line comments which 1) address almost nothing that has been addressed in the previous email, 2) involve less than no humor, 3) contain no informational value, 4) get shorter when the object of his manlove for upstate newyorkers is home sick.

If anyone out there offers email etiquette classes, perhaps this is your ultimate challenge. Just keep in mind that his mastery of the art of boredom has put me to sleep more than once and regularly causes unexpected bowel movements.

He is a very, very bad indeed (and don't forget that means both bad, and coincidentally, gay).

I Fucking Hate Onions

Apparently I sometimes say "fucking" too much, or at least that is what my girlfriend would fucking say. I claim to be saying the much more socially acceptable "fakking," which no doubt gets its roots from the stupid fucks in boston. Any fucking way, I somehow found myself trapped into agreeing to pay 50 fucking cents to the girl every time I say "fuck", with or without the "ing." Its probably a bad fucking habit anyhow, so it may be good that I stop. In agreeing to this, I was able to get her to pay me 50 cents every time she tries to fucking feed me onions. Well worth it since I fucking hate onions. Now mind you, I am a lazy fuck and she makes all the food so I should be fucking grateful, and I am. I eat every fucking thing she gives me and always try to be as nice as I fucking can be. I really don't even like saying the fucking word, but I thought I'd take this opportunity to write it down over and over again just based on principle, as there is no penalty for writing it down.

So far she owes 2 bucks, and im down 1bout $10.50, but that is only becuase I went on a profanity laced tirade on Saturday night when she wanted to borrow 10 fucking dollars, which I was happy to do.

In conclusion, fuck you all.

When You Control Poop, You Control "Information"

First let me say if you are reading this entry, and therefore leaving a photo of a piece of nasty shit on your computer, you've got problems.

Anyhow, you ever get stuck working late at work writing something that you are pretty sure no one is ever going to read? Well, me too. And the last time I realized I had used the word "information" 14 times in one paragraph. So I think "Time for a different word, time the Thesaurus on Dictionary.com. " Soon, I find myself looking at these synonyms at 8 pm with my eyes beginning to glaze over, thinking "is it me, or are all of these words shit?" I mean the first group of words included "ammo?" Really? And then I realized it was time to call it a day when shit really did come into play. The word "poop" is actually listed on Dictionary.com/Thesaurus.com as a synonym for "information. No shit, you can even see for yourself.

After going home I decide I would do a little studding by examining this image of my own poop. If I suddenly seem smarter, you'll know why...

Move your bag, you old bag!

Its bad enough getting stuck at work late only have to deal with another delayed subway--dont make me stand there on oddly long escalators because you are too much of a retard to move your bag out of the way, you old bag.

Today I politely squeazed by this lame bag lady and she gives me an "excuuuuuse me!?!" Well, Steve Martin, why don't you excuse my balls.

Bottom line, if you put the bag out there, Im going to hit that shit and I hope everyone else does the same.

Ikea Sucks

Some people like IKEA because they enjoy putting all the little crappy pieces together. But you can do that with lots of places--IKEA is just the only one that also breaks all the shit for you as well.

Most everyone already knows that crap from IKEA is lucky to make it past their 45 day return policy, but recently I've descoverd that at the 6 month mark they will actually send over a fat bastard to sit on your junk and/or bash it in with his cane until it is no longer funtional. Everything about Ikea sucks. I implore you all to go there and buy crap and then return it a month later in order to screw them and their fat bastards.

Groundbreaking Legal News?

My GMA from upstate NY forwarded this interesting clip today along with the words "should have kept Fluttie." I hope no one finds this offensive.

Buffalo, New York (AP) -
A seven-year-old boy was at the center of an Erie County courtroom drama yesterday when he challenged a court ruling over who should have custody of him. The boy has a history of being beaten by his parents and the judge initially awarded custody to his aunt, in keeping with child custody law and regulations requiring that family unity be maintained to the degree possible.

The boy surprised the court when he proclaimed that his aunt beat him more than his parents and he adamantly refused to live with her. When the judge then suggested that he live with his grandparents, the boy cried out that they also beat him.

After considering the remainder of the immediate family and learning that domestic violence was apparently a way of life among them, the judge took the unprecedented step of allowing the boy to propose who should have custody of him.

After two recesses to check legal references and confer with child welfare officials, the judge granted temporary custody to the Buffalo Bills, whom the boy firmly believes are not capable of beating anyone.

Puzzling Find

Isn't this a bit like the USA Basketball dream team a la Bird, Magic, Jordan celebrating a win over team Bangladesh? I always assumed that any sports team playing a philadelphia based opponent all but declared victory weeks beforehand. Do such games even count in the standings? Anyhow, this fella seems oddly excited about beating the philadelphia baseball team in a game. I've never seen anything like it--I wonder if the game had some sort of actual meaning?

In related news: http://www.thebrushback.com/Archives/veteransstadium_full.htm

The Light at the End of the Tunnel?

"Guzman may be out of your hair before you know it. I was told this season most likely will be his last chance if he doesn't produce." --Bill Ladson, MLB.com

Rejoice! It seems as though Christian Guzman can only single-handedly ruin one more season for the Washington Nationals. I've been giving the beat reporter for MLB.com a hard time for his kid glove treatment of Guzman, but will admit Bill Ladson is a very good writer. Also, he's nice enough to reply to my pestering emails, so props for that. I pulled the quote above from an email Bill sent to me this morning. Most sane people wouldn't consider this such great news, but after watching this clown ruin the Nationals playoff run last year (thanks to Frank Robinson's uncanny stubborness), its refreshing to at leat see a light at the end of the tunnel...

I questioned Guzman himself on this, and although he had no comment, he was nice enough to let me photograph his demonstration on the various ways a shortstop can avoid fielding groundballs.

Quality Headache...

The only thing quality about the Quality Inn is their ability to piss me off. Incredibly obnoxious noises every morning at 6 am. Sounds like they are filling up dumpsters--even for them its a wonder they have that much worthless junk. The best part is that the noise stops by 10 am, apparently their attempt to make sure they have enough work to keep pissing us off with an early revelry from hell the next morning. I asked the foreman to explain, he had no answers, but did let me take a picture of him in front of his work...