1) Drunken, unspervised swimming
2) Bench-pressing with Steven Hawking as your spotter
3) Kickboxing with Tyra Banks
4) Barbed wire limbo
5) Campfire hurdles
7) Rooftop calisthenics
8) Shadowboxing in a McDonald's funhouse with those goofy mirrors
9) Marble-track triple jump
10) San Franciscan roller blading
Have you ever heard guys who claim the reason it rained is because they just washed their cars?
How self-centered can you be? Not only does the world revolve around you, but when you're too busy, it revolves around your car!
It rains because of clouds. Mother nature doesn't care if you just waxed your faggy, low-rider rice burner with the ground effects. Jeez! Guys like this are to blame for movies like The Fast and the Furious.
Look dudes, the car doesn't make the man. The car just gets you to your job at Burger King. And you're going to have to flip a lot of burgers to pay for those rims you threw on a '96 Nissan Sentra 4-door.
The next time it rains, I hope the puddles slide these Fast and the Furious twits into the nearest telephone pole.
Did the human race suddenly fall into a landfill or drink from an outhouse spigot? I have to ask. Because every proudct we eat, drink or use promises to "detoxify" us.
The grocery store has entire aisles of drinks and food suppliments that supposedly purify your system. The local spa will cleanse and detoxify you through the pores. Oxygen bars and hi-colonics will flush out the accumulating poisons. The latest exercise gizmo promises to rid your body of toxins. Everything we buy purifies, cleanses, cleans, rejuvinates and detoxifies.
When did we become so goddamn filthy?
When I'm in the sauna, I don't see chunks of garbage shoot out my pores, just sweat. When I eat or drink some all-natural healthfood stuff, I still eject the same turd. And when I give myself an enema, it's for recreational purposes only -- not cleansing. Like my oven, my colon is self-cleaning.
Think about this: people are volunteering -- paying somebody -- to get hi-colonics. Before the national craze of "detoxification" we called it an "enema." And you didn't get one unless you really needed it.
People are paying for -- get this -- oxygen bars. Fuckin' oxygen. AIR. Let me save you some money. You need more oxygen? BREATH MORE! The air is free. These are the same nitwits who insist on bottled water. Where do you think bottled water companies get the water? A rain dance? No. They turn on the spigot and then laugh their asses off all the way to the bank.
Back to hi-colonics: If you're volunteering to put a tube up your ass and shoot veggie juice through your colon, may I suggest that it's not your body that needs cleansing. It's your brain. Cram the tube into one ear and open up the valve. Cleanse all that New-Age Hollywood bullshit out of your head and let it drain out the other ear. If you really want to power-wash your colon, may I recommend the #5 combo at Filiberto's? It'll get the job done and set you back only $4.50.
This detoxification bullshit is a by-product of environmentalism. Seventeen assholes camping in a Californian Redwood want the rest of us to believe our industrialized lifestyle is poisoning us. Have these dirtbags considered how we lived before the Industrual Revolution? We sustained on insects, raw meat, decomposing vegitable matter and pond water. We huddled in caves, wizzed in the local stream and wrapped our naugty parts in dead animal skin. If anybody needed detoxification, it was our all-natural ancestry. Their lifestyle seems pretty damn toxic to me.
Thanks to modern living, we're the cleanest people on earth. So put the organic veggie cocktail back on the shelf and grab a milkshake at McD's.
The hardest substance on the planet is a dog's skull. On several occasions I've seen a dog run full-steam, head-first into a solid barrier, collide, and live to tell about it. It's like they're showing off. My dog took out my patio door and it cost me $80. That's $560 in doggy-dollars. Dog skulls will bruise a human shinbone with no problem. They ought to make bullet-prove vests out of old dog skulls.
Everybody's heard that your chances of being struck by lightning are greater than winning the lottery. If that's the case, why aren't all the lottery winners already dead? Who knows? Maybe if you can predict 6 numbers out of a lottery bucket, than you can predict where the lightning will strike and avoid it. Catch-22.
If I ever win the lottery, I'm going to be one nervous fellow, because lightning will be looking for me so it can even the score. And while the idea of dying doesn't scare me, per se, the notion of dying with a bunch of money in my pocket scares me to death!
Why do fat people always walk in the middle of the aisle? The skinny people always pick a side and stay on it. But fat people locate the geometric center of the aisle and then waddle down an imaginary line bisecting it. And they waddle from side to side so that if you attempt to pass them, you collide with their sweaty arms. Not wanting to bump into them and risk knocking the jelly doughnut from their hand, I have to pull off a double-flip summersault with a half-twist just to get the checkout line before the next ice age.
Maybe they walk down the center to remain equidistant to the food on either side. I don't know. But I do know they should pick a side and stay on it. And if you have a fat friend with you, and you, yourself are fat, for Christ's sake, walk SINGLE FILE -- just like the line at the Krispy Kreme. When you walk side-by-side, you're violating several fire codes.
Incidentally, if a couple fat people are ever blocking the way down the aisle during a fire, I'm gonna throw a box of Milk Duds over their shoulder so they'll stampede out of my damn way. Jot down that tip. It may save your life.
Rappers' names aren't what they used to be. The first generation of rappers had some kick-ass names: DJ Master Jeff, LL Cool J, Salt 'n' Peppa, Darrel Mac, Twist.
But cool names for rappers have slowed to a trickle. And the stupid ones are reproducing like a case of the clap at a Kid Rock fan club convention. Examples:
Snoop Dog? SNOOP Dog? If you want to name yourself after one of the Peanuts, at least go for Linus. Even Pig Pen would be better than Snoop Doggy Dogg.
Eminem? I know when I think of a bad-ass street hood, I think about candy-coated chocolate tablets.
50-cent? You have to wonder about this guy's self-esteem. He's discounted himself like a pair of shower shoes at a K-Mart Blue Light Special. Fifty cents -- that's about what one of his albums is worth.
Dirty Ole Bastard? This guy's trying to sell himself as a gangsta and he describes the old white guy I see next door who fetches his newspaper in his bathrobe and dark socks.
Then you've got all the "ice" guys: Ice-T, Ice Cube, Vanilla Ice. These guys dreamed up their names while looking for something to eat in the fridge. Get ready for DJ Dill Pickle and Jam Master Baking Soda.
Have you seen those trailers for horses? You see them once in a while, towing a couple horses down the highway. If you look closely, you can see a big horse eye looking out one of the air vents. Hello, horsey.
One time I came to a red light along the side of a horse trailer. A horse peeked at me with its big eye. Then, the eye disappeared and a horse mouth protruded through the air vent.
"Hey. Hey you. You, in the car," beckonedthe horse.
I could only look in amazement, too shocked to reply. Finally, I mustered a faint "Hello?"
"Nice car you're driving there. How much people-power does it have?"
I wonder why a horse ever bothers running again after he rides in a trailer. I would think an experience like that would forever change his attitude. When you climb on his back and coax him to run, you'd think he'd look back and ask whether you could just take the truck, instead.
Horses must really need the exercise.
Sometimes the shapes and designs of the glass aren't only cosmetic. They're functional, too.
Do you know why martini glasses are shaped like little, upside-down cones? To give the martini drinker an easier target for his drunk, numb lips. Martini glasses have a relatively large rim circumference. So drunks have a better chance of hitting the rim with their lips.
The same goes for margaritas. If you're drinking margaritas, the chances are you're drunk. You might believe the huge rim is for the salt, but that's coincidental. The primary reason for the rim is so you can find it with your drunk-ass lips. Incidentally, this is why drunk people should not attempt oral sex. Unfortunately, drunks are the most likely to try oral sex. Sometimes in public.
Think about it. Have you ever been so wasted your mouth can't find the rim of the glass? Of course you have. That's why you should stick to martinis and margaritas. You're bound to find the rim eventually.
By the way, notice how they pour weak, girlie drinks in those tall, thin glasses, because you'll never get drunk enough to need more rim! Plus they’re a phallic symbol. Whores!