My Blind Date

Hey guys, so yesterday was a fun day for me, a friend set me up on a blind date, usually I can’t be bothered with blind dates as the only women who go on blind dates are boring as fuck, dried up old prunes, who lead lives less interesting than that of my last bowel movement.

My fear of blind dates comes mostly from experience, last year a friend had set me up with a girl he knew, just out of interest I decided to go. Anyway, he gave me her number, I called her, we chatted, and eventually we decided to meet by City Hall. When I got there, I sat on a bench and proceeded to text my blind date, I wrote the words, “I’m here, sitting beside some fat chick, hope to see you soon,” needless to say the phone I just texted belonged to the fat chick… I’ll let you guess what happened next. Incase you can’t guess, here’s a clue: HULK ANGRY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

However I owed this friend a favour so I went for him and I have to say, blind dates rock. You can stare at their tits all night long, pour salt on the table and tell them it’s braille and you can have a hell of a lot of fun directing them into the kitchen instead of the bathroom… I did that three times.

The third time all I heard from the kitchen were the words “Oh, for fuck sake! Not again!”

The night went pretty well despite my picking on her, I ended up back at hers, we spent the night together and I left in the morning…

I don’t think she’ll call me back though… Mostly because while she slept I moved her furniture around and put her phone in the kitchen sink…

I wonder how long it will take her to realise?

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I was going to update this.

But I didn’t.

What apps do I have?

I don’t have “apps” I have fucking applications because I’m not a fucking cunt.

Stop fucking abbreviating everything in the name of sounding fucking cool and hip.

The only “app” your ipone needs is a sharp rusty pike that pins your skull to the curb any time you say “app” instead of application “because” you think it’s cool and hip to do so because iphone adverts told you so.

Also, how about an app to pull your god damned trousers up, I’m sick of seeing you faggoty assed nancy boys prancing around with your asses showing, your ass is not sexy, it is a lump of shit, go to the gym and get some proper trousers that fit.

Also, you need an app that teaches you some God damned manners, how about an app that turns your phone off when you’re around other people, oh wait, you need to not have an iphone to have that because it’s called fucking civility and only people who aren’t utter cunts have it.

My phone is a 4 year old, pay as you go, brick which can only accept incoming calls. It has two games, snake, and snake two, and it doesn’t have a colour screen and it’s battery lasts approx 12 hours. When somebody calls me it goes “ring, ring”, instead of “I KISSED A GIRL AND I LIKED IT! HOPE MY BOYFRIEND DON’T MIND IT!” over and over again.

Why own this instead of an iphone? Because my phone doesn’t turn me into a raging trend hopping metrosexual faggot. Instead of changing me, my phone reflects who I am, and that is a heterosexual man’s man.

Fuck your technology and your faggotry, they are one and the same.

Published in: on 01/10/2009 at 11:53 am  Comments (1)  
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Which is more fag-tastic? AIDs or Twilight?

Since Twilight is the biggest pile of malignant, steaming, dinosaur diarrhoea I’ve ever had the misfortune of having been bombarded with – by both retarded, illiterate, emo, shit stains (who you’d be forgiven for thinking are little more than a mass of extras from the lesser known B movie: ‘Chernobyl: the aftermath,’) the media, and countless cretins, perpetually masturbating, in orgasmic delight, to whoever decided to cast that potato headed, mongoloid, queer bait, cunt faced, twat browed, fuck basket as the star (I don’t know or care to know his name) – I’ve decided to conduct some research…

Today we’ll be finding out just how fagtastically bum loving Twilight is.

In Pie Chart A, as illustrated below, we see, through seconds of painstaking research, that Twilight is vastly more bum loving than AIDs:

Having AIDs, it's considerably less gay than watching or reading Twilight...

Having AIDs; it's considerably less gay than watching Twilight... You read it, it's official.

In the next step in concluding just how much of an ass-ramming-bumathon Twilight is, I compared it to a prostate massage.

See Pie Chart B, below, for the results of my painstaking research:

Prostate Massages; recieving one, or giving one, is less gay than watching Twilight... Getting the picture yet you bum loving sphinctal explorer?

Prostate Massages; receiving one, or giving one, is less gay than watching Twilight... Getting the picture yet you bum loving sphinctal explorer?

When I finished my research, I decided that this isn’t really enough to decide once and for all that Twilight is the most massively, homosexual, steaming pile of horse shit ever…

So, I decided to put Twilight to one final test.

If Clint Eastwood watches Twilight in its entirety, then Twilight is officially not a bum licking festival of rampant rent boy abuse, if however, Clint Eastwood cannot watch Twilight in its entirety, then Twilight is, as I thought before conducting this research, a steaming pile of accidentally spilt bum fudge fueled by Gay Pride, sprinkled with the AIDs infested cum of 607k AIDs suffering bum lovers who perpetually masturbate to prostate massages…

Here are the results of the ‘Clint Eastwood test’ as captured on digital camera:

clinteastwoodwatchingtwilightclinteastwoodonwatchingtwilight
I guess that settles it:

If you watch Twilight, you might as well be watching Brokeback Mountain; watching Twilight is the equivalent of masturbating with a rabid (same sex) badger with a dildo up it’s ass and Twilight itself is to the arts what Nazi Germany was to diversity, multiculturalism and acceptance.

Man Skills Pt.I : How to survive a Tsunami

Recently, during my little excursion to Asia, I found myself being swept up by a Tsunami, while casually holding my breath for 15 minutes straight, keeping an eye out for underwater debris, and using some man’s dead fiancee and children as a human shield, I had quite some time to think about how most men are completely unknowledgeable in even the most simple tasks regarding manliness and being manly as fuck in general.

As such, I’m starting a new segment to my blogs, called “Man Skills,” let’s see if we can teach you festering wank monkeys some practical skills for the real world.

How To Survive a Tsunami.

Tsunamis are nature’s way of testing your metal as a man, you shouldn’t see them as a natural disaster, rather they’re just one of natures many little tests of your fortitude.

Mindset:
In regards to surviving a Tsunami, mindset is everything.
“Tsunami! I piss in a Tsunami!” or “Fuck everybody but myself! I’ll stitch your dead children together with banana skins and muscle tissue and use them as a life raft!” are two very good mindsets to prepare yourself with for dealing with the inevitable Tsunami.

Practical Issues: Most Tsunami prone areas will have an alert system set up to prepare people if the situation should arise, but since Tsunami’s occur usually between every 6 and 7 years and people continue to live in the same fucking area and have to continually rebuild all their shit every time nature has a hissy fit you can’t really rely on the Tsunami warning center as chances are, like everything else in the area, it’s been flattened and is filled with nothing but the bloated rotting corpses and missing peoples from the previous Tsunami.

Know The Signs: Some foreign git driving around in a shitty hatchback shouting “TSUNAMI!!” is usually a pretty good sign that your area is about to get hit by one, but like I said previously, this doesn’t always happen.

Other signs include earth tremors and earth quakes and if you’re in a coastal area you may see the ocean water recede.

People screaming random shit, women breaking down into tears (thus ruining their chances of survival) and children pissing, not only, their own pants, but yours as well, are usually also good indicators.

What To Do:
If you’re on holiday with your family, friends, or loved one then quickly asses the situation, can you gather your wife three children and wheel-chair bound uncle Albert (who when the wife isn’t around you lovingly refer to as “wheels”) with enough time remaining to haul ass into the mainland?

If the answer is no then you must again re-asses (this entire process should take between 0 and 1 seconds) who do you love most? (The answer is not uncle Albert – Trust me, he’s lived long enough.) Do you have time to get this reduced list of people and yourself to safety? If so then gather them quickly and get as far inland as you can before the Tsunami hits.

Women and children have a tendency to cry a lot when they’re faced with their mortality, so it’s generally a good idea to scream at them a lot until they shut the fuck up and let you take hold of the situation as if you were a professional ball grabber on national ball grabbing day in the Olympic ball grabbing arena.

In getting to inland, your attitude should be one of “every man for himself,” steal a car, punch a 10 year old’s ugly little face and steal his shitty rusted bike if you have to, running won’t be fast enough (unless you’re the bionic man, which you aren’t, because I am)

If you can’t get inland then your only option is to get to higher ground, (optimally you would do both). Hills, tall buildings (before going to your Tsunami prone destination you should have found out a little about the structural integrity of their taller buildings – just in case – if you didn’t and you’re sitting in the middle of a Tsunami right now on your shitty “look at me I’m a working professional” laptop reading this while simultaneously pissing all over yourself like a little girl, then I’m afraid to say that now is probably a tad too late). Wide, well-rooted trees are a good bet, but you probably shouldn’t get too hopeful as Tsunami’s are incredibly destructive and will probably just uproot it and smash you and your lovely tree into the wall of the local deli creating some Tsunami post-modernist tourist related art.

Remember, it’s not over just because you survived the first wave, if you managed to hold onto a tree or get into a high rise building, or inland, don’t stop to thank God, because he’ll probably fuck your shit up for irony’s sake by sending a second wave right up your anally retentive little God fearing ass.

Finally: If worst has come to worst and you didn’t manage to hold on, the Tsunami swept you off your feet and nature is raping you like a big burley lumber-jack raping a lost boyscout then don’t panic and don’t struggle, you’ll more than likely die, but there’s a chance that if you don’t struggle you’ll get swept back out to sea alive, where you can sit for weeks, waiting, in the hopes that somebody will rescue you as you slowly devour your own leg.

If you do manage to survive, and find yourself lost at sea, chances are finally in your favour, it’s at this stage that debris and bloated corpses of your loved ones will start popping up all over the show, use what you can find, and fashion a small boat, you can always use your dead fiancee’s skin as a mast! (It’s what she would have wanted.)

Published in: on 19/03/2009 at 1:09 am  Leave a Comment  
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Where Did All The Real Men Go?

Real men are still around but they are few and far between. Real men, are men who uphold real values, like alcoholism, being bitter, closed from their emotions, smoking, being epic and of course, being manly through the medium of all these things, violence and more.

What makes a man manly? To be honest, it can be anything, from a fabled neck breaking, “face-fuck” kick, (See Norris, Chuck), to violently and gruesomely destroying the living dead, (See Campbell, Bruce), to cutting your own arm off in order to live, (Ralston, Aron). Or even just something as simple as fighting mother nature, and God’s many creatures in drunken states (Cash, Johnny).

Manliness comes in many forms, sometimes, it comes from the simple things, in small doses, like smoking a cigarette, or drinking a beer in under 20 seconds, and sometimes it comes in big doses of vulva-kicking episodes of facial rape, like when a man fights a shark, just because he can.

Most of all though, it’s the name that says “manly.”

Names like Chuck, Bruce, Johnny, Aron, Rocky, Hunt, Rambo, Sue, Clint, Russell, “Face-fuck Al”, Tommy Gunn, Apollo Creed, Tom the rapist, and Kurt are all pretty damned manly. So what makes a name manly? Basically, a manly name sounds like a rock, type of metal, or something you use to cut somebody’s head off or shoot somebody with. Names that aren’t manly tend to sound like something two feminists, a member of Coldplay, or Britney Spears would name their adopted kid. Names like Tristan, Berty, Milton, are all pretty weak in terms of manliness.

Names that have connotations to killing or fighting tend to be pretty damned manly too, names like “Ethan Hunt,” which combines the best of both worlds, a short first name that sounds rougher than shaving with blunt rusty knives, and hunt, which implies murderous rage. Which is fucking awesome. If you can imply that you’re going to main and/or kill people, with little more than your name, you know you’re a man.

So now we know what makes a man manly, where did the “manly man” go? It’s simple, they’re a dying breed, being slowly killed off by political correctness, feminist-Neo-Nazis, over-protective mothers, crappy music, being pussy whipped, and just a complete lack of demand for heroes in society.

Political Correctness has killed off the manly man’s ability to make incredibly judgemental, apathetic, and somewhat obnoxious generalisations about religions, metro-sexualism, women, the youth, politicians and pretty much anything we’d like to make obnoxious generalisations about.

The Feminist neo-Nazi, took away the manly man’s greatest tool, his complete disregard for women and their rights. It is this fundamental aspect of being a man that makes them “manly”, it is this pure lack of a desire to care for anybody, or have them care for you, that makes a man. (See Eastwood, Clint)

Metrosexualism has destroyed the manly man’s pleasing aesthetic, a beard that looks like you just shaved with a blunt rock and used gun powder as opposed to the less manly “shaving foam”, right after fighting a bear, and a voice so gritty it could only be emulated by rubbing granite down your throat while you talk.

Children drinking in the streets have ruined the attractiveness of being a whiskey swigging cowboy, since pretty much every 12 year old in this shitty nation already drinks anyway, it’s just not cool anymore. So now real men are forced to drink paint stripper (which probably accounts partially for their decline) or move on to harder things, like heroin (see Scotland).

Over-protective mums raise their little boys to believe that if they’re just themselves women will like them. Which would work if they weren’t blubbering imbeciles who fumbled their words and said ridiculously un-manly things like, “you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. You’re like a flower, only infinitely more perfect and sweet smelling.” Real men don’t act themselves in front of women, and they certainly don’t compliment them, they say things like,
“Go away woman,” and “Make me a damned sandwich,” or “Iron my shirt, bitch.”
They don’t pander to the egotistical desires of maniac women who thrive on crushing men in front of their friends just for a cheap laugh. If you’ve ever said something nice to a woman on first meeting them, you’re a fucking pussy and it’s because of people like you that men in general have become so fucking needy and weak. Grow a pair.

Women hate you, because you need them.

Crappy music has led to a decline in the manly man’s urge to kill… You can’t kill without good montage in the background, you want to know that when you kill a man using nothing more than a toothpick and a button, that you have some fucking badass music behind you. Not this fucking rap or metal bullshit. Don’t get me wrong, both can be good, but it’s just not quality killing music. The music you kill to should sound like shitting razors while vomiting anthrax all over the faces of small orphaned children.

One of the major contributing factors to the decline of “manly” men, is the lack of need for stealth/guerrilla warfare, with the creation of new weaponry that means entire cities can be destroyed at the push of a button and the turn of a key…

Remember when war was manly? When men shot out 16 rounds of lead into each other in the name of protecting their women and homeland from the enemy…

Or when they fought in a cloud of tear gas, bleeding from their pours, with people of different nations, using nothing but their fists…

We need another fucking war… But a real one, with some proper heroic “defending my homeland and family” man fighting.

Another major contributing factor, around all the others pivot around, is nut job men disregarding all that is manly in the name of peace…

First off, if you disregard man laws, you’re demoted to fucking man bitch. As such, Ghandi is a man bitch. No argument, no discussion, he just is, as decided in the court of man law held by the Miserable Bastard on this day.

Secondly, peace is for fucking queer bait Nancy boys.

Real men kill each other.

War is manly.

End of story.

Like I’ve said before, Ghandi was a pussy and probably a communist. Other weak men include but are not limited to Paul McCartney, Prince Harry, any man who’s liberal about anything.