Category Archives: Rants

How the Duggars prepare for #20….Part 1

Where were you when you heard that Michelle Duggar was having her 20th child?  If you are like most Americans, you were watching them on the “Today Show” with Ann Curry while stuffing bacon into your mouth like packing peanuts into a large box whilst wearing your “Forever Lazy“.   Whether you feel like this is a good thing, a bad thing or are completely infatuated with this (because it is ridiculously excessive and you don’t know whether to cry, laugh or move to Canada) and don’t really have an opinion (like myself)- here is the story of what needs to be done in order to open up the “Michelle Duggar Fetus Factory”.

Its been a while since the union workers have been brought in to clean up the factory-Over a year since the steam and midnight oil was being burned.  The Michelle Duggar Fetus Factory was about to turn on its lights and feel hundreds of feet pacing on its floors on a daily basis.  Many of the towns locals (who were still suffering from the recession), lined up to get this freelance job in the factory.  Its uterine wall could fit half of the townsfolk at one time, so this was not only a godly blessing but also an economical one.

Mr. White from the edge of town was the first to arrive.  It’s been hard for him and his family to make ends meet ever since the Cancer.   The bill collectors are on the brink of breaking down his door in order to pay them back the thousands of dollars he borrowed.  Mr White was hired to keep the factory clean, which was no easy feat.  When he swung open the revolving labia doors, he recognized that smell from all of the previous births.  It was the smell of sweat, gasoline, blood and freshly baked artisan breads.  He was home.

He got out his broom and started to sweep up all of the twigs and dead bugs that were covering the tiles.   He started humming along with the radio that he dusted the cobwebs off of and turned on.  It was playing “Rhythm of the Night” by Debarge.  As soon as he heard the songs chorus, he was transformed to a different time- the year was 1988 when Michelle had a normal sized uterus and she was giving birth to her first.  Mr. White was the janitor at the hospital she gave birth in.  He enjoyed having such a close relationship to the mothers in his ward and he wanted to give them the gift of cleanliness.  Mrs. Duggar never got the smell of clean out of her nostrils.  It was a heavenly scent similar to lemons, alcohol and Mr. Clean.  He has been a key member of the team ever since.

When he came out of his trance he realized that he was almost finished with the sweeping and was almost ready to begin the padding of the uterine walls.  At that moment, his team finally arrived!  Lazy Pete, Dirty Steve and Cotton Eye Joe came in with a childish glee recognizing that this was the location where they became men.   Like that of a group of soldiers that experience something beyond words together.  They have endured things that NO MAN should have to see, and it makes them stronger as an outcome.  Lazy Pete continues to serve them a celebratory meal that he created using only local ingredients.  He was making the team, “Cheesy Duggarberries in Velveeta”. 

After the hearty meal of seasonal Duggarberries, they began taking in the excess skin from her stomach and turning it into an insulation of sorts.  She had enough excess skin that could fill the Empire State Building. They found ancient markings on the walls from its past residents.  Mostly claw marks ( like those of someone being dragged to a horrible fate), but a little bit of drawing….stick figures and such.

“We are going to have a long 9 months, aren’t we Steve?” said Cotton-Eye Joe.

“Not as long as the path to the cave” exclaimed Dirty Steve.

They both took a long inspired gaze into the distance.  Alongside the entrance to the factory is a dirt road that leads to the “Dark Cave of Lost Souls”.  This is where some of the unlucky get lost when they go beyond the factory walls.  Never. To. Be. Seen. Again.

To be continued…….

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“wool makes my penis itchy”

Penis Sweater:

Just in case your dick has to go outside to chop wood or shovel a driveway, you can buy a sweater for it!  Oh wait?  Is this a novelty item?  This is the kind of shit you buy as a “joke gift” then it ends up being stored in some drawer somewhere.  One day, when in the process of moving or looking for something- you will stumble upon it with a mother, girlfriend, exterminator…whatever, who will never look at you the same and not quite believe this was a funny “joke” gift afterall.  You vagina.

shlong sweater

For cold winter nights.

Reusable maxipads that look like watermellons:

What is more disgusting than being a woman at that time of the month?  In no way is this a time of my life when i say to myself “Boy, i feel like a woman!  A woman who has weird shit coming out of her vagina”.  Seriously?  I mean, yes sure… is a part of life that is beautiful and shit, but It really really sucks.  I wish it were socially acceptable to banish myself from society until my body decides to behave again.  Having said all that, the weird stuff that comes out of ladies is not something that I want to be reminded of.  I want to flush it or burn it or piss on it then burn it, whatever…..but I don’t want to wash it with my other clothes and find that I have hardened blood clots on my favorite henley.

Bacteria Collection Chamber.

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Boston Cream

I’m waiting for my 32oz coffee at the Dunkin Donuts near my apartment.  It’s about 45 minutes after i should have been at work and I live about an hour away.  This Dunkin Donuts shares it’s residency in a “shopping center” with stores like “Funky Stylez 4 U”, “Bernie’s Fish Cove”, “Jacky Chan Chinese/Mexican Food” and the cleverly titled, “Store”. “Store” is a store that sells shit that looks like more expensive shit.  Like an MP3 player that looks like an ipod but is actually made of that shitty ikea wood and the tears of young Chinese women at a sweatshop.

The woman in front of me has a comb-over, a mustache and Jaclyn Smith for Kmart Pants Suit. She orders an Extra Large fruit coolata and 3 orders of hash browns.  I remember that because i thought to myself, “Holy shit!  That’s fucking gross”!

Right as she was paying I started thinking about the awkward conversation I was about to have with the weird Jamaican dude that tries to sell me costume jewelery.  As I’m anticipating my next move, this woman comes in.  She looked a little off.  She stands near the front door completely blocking the entrance way as this balding, mustached lady is trying to get out of dodge, to drink her extra large Fruit Coolata, eat her three packs of hash browns while playing in her pile of dead cats when she gets home.

The woman was about the size of Marlon Brando circa, “Don Juan DeMarco“. She had the hair of a little girl that lives in a neglectful household containing an alcoholic mother and a deadbeat dad.  You know what i’m saying.  Smells like everything bagels and pee.

She is wearing a pair of pants made from floor laminate and shoelaces that are woven on the sides.  She is wearing coral lipstick on her mouth pimples and yellow teeth.  Her skin is the color of Wesley Snipes but is wearing foundation that should be put on by a fucking mime or a clown.  Her toenails are longer than her fingernails, but thats only because she gnarled them off, including bits of glittery nail polish that is likely living somewhere between her teeth.

She looks at the Jamaican Guy and yells, “Boo, you got these?”

The Jamaican Guy walks around the counter to see what she is pointing to underneath the register.  She is pointing to a promotional poster for the new tuna sandwich.

The Jamaican Guy walks back around the counter and says, “yes?”

The woman looks at him and says, “Well, they good?”

The Jamaican Guy says, “Yes.”

She says, “You got these?”

He says, “yes.”

She says, “Well, I see you tomorrow then”.

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Hookworms and threadworms enter the body in contaminated drinking water or through bare feet.

When I was younger I had a REAL problem with feet. I surely had an issue with my own feet (to the point where i sometimes wore socks in our pool), but this wasn’t half as strong as my distaste for these taboo appendages on other people.

I remember when i was in 7th grade, i was told by my science teacher, Mrs. McLaughlin, that hookworms can enter your feet through the grass….if you are lucky enough to step in remnants of animal feces.

Because of this potent statement….my 13-year-old mind went completely haywire, and i was forced to wear inappropriate footwear during the summer heat. Imagine watching some jackass walking around wearing combat boots in August, essentially steam cooking all the delicious aromas and bacteria that come from those horrendous, dirty, ugly, tapeworm vestibule extremities. This, in my mind, was better than the terrible alternative….getting a hookworm as a tenant in my lower intestine.

I’m over that now…… some degree, however……

The island of Manhattan is a breeding ground for disease, especially during the summer months. When you go down into a subway station, it can emit an odor unlike any other….it’s a potpourri of cheese, gangrene, garbage, human filth and rats. (on a sidenote- i think that glade should produce a scented candle composed of the previous scents and sell it at NYC tourist spots… it “subway”….people will eat that up….just saying).

Now, when i observe summer footwear, especially in a pungent subway station, i must wonder why people make certain choices.

For example:

A barefoot homeless man walks around the platform on the downtown yellow line side…..he paces back and forth with his feet firmly pressed against the dirty tile. The skin on his feet is deteriorating with patches of white and red spotting his normally black skin. It looks almost as though…..wait a minute…..this man has gangrene.

A girl walks down the steps to catch the downtown R train to prince street to shop. Wearing her brand new Marc Jacobs gladiator sandals, she feel a rush of confidence fill her body as she notices people glancing at her footwear. The soles on the shoe are quite thin, and her toes slightly hang over the toe of the shoe. Her big toe grazes the spot where the homeless man was pacing. Lucky for her, gangrene isn’t contagious, however….this stylish woman now acquired Eosinophilic Meningitis, which is a common disease transmitted to humans through rats. The usual cause is the parasite Angiostrongylus cantonensis, (the rat lungworm).

So ladies, new time you go out for a “night on the town”, always remember that when you put on your brand new pair of Manolo Blahnik peep toes, you might be going home with a foot covered in human feces and/ or pestilence.

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I like to smell my farts!

“Self-hatred, self-loathing, also sometimes auto-phobia refers to an extreme dislike of oneself, or being angry at oneself. The term is also used to designate a dislike or hatred of a group to which one belongs. For instance, “ethnic self-hatred” is the extreme dislike of ones ethnic group.”

My question for wikipedia,  is, “why don’t you include the ability to float through life by making people around you uncomfortable with a self-injuring comment”?  Mr. Wikipedia, i think that this so called “self- hatred, self- loathing, also sometimes auto-phobia” is what gives me the confidence to leave my house in the morning.  This is quite powerful.  I know that at least once a day, i will make at  least one person feel really uncomfortable, usually by letting out a nervous laugh as to say, “Am i laughing with you right now or should we hide your sharps”?  I don’t think i hate myself per se, i mean……i hate myself as much as i hate anything else that shits and sleeps.  I also don’t think my self esteem is worse than….i don’t know……Tina Turner hitting a flat note after Ike has been on a crack bender with a crotchless panty wearing-toothless-hairy-prostitute.

I think we need to welcome self-loathing into our lives….because frankly- humans are fucking disgusting.  You have no real reason not to feel bad about yourself.  The Hershey marks in your underpants, the way you don’t wash your hands in a public restroom, the “five second rule” you rationalize in your mind as being applicable on the dirty floor of the Q train, the way you trim your gnarly fucking toenails on a park bench and the yeast infection you have that you overlook when trying on that swimsuit in a kohls dressing room.   Congratulations on adding to the collapse of humanity.


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