Friday, August 15, 2008


Not a word. Deal with it.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Man servant

Let's say that as I go about my daily routine of being valuable to the world, some guy I didn't know from Adam were to approach me and say to me, hello gawker, how is it going, I heard the good news about your PS3 and your TV, and by the way, for some unfathomable reason, I would like to be your man servant for the duration of your lifetime and so, please to let me know what you would like me to do.

Now, let's assume, for the purpose of discussion, that this guy were to have the softest of skin, the tenderest of lips and muscular arms, capable of vigorous to and fro action for at least five consecutive minutes. For many of you, the choice of chore for this man-servant would be an obvious one to make.

I would beg to differ, though. For a long time, I have wished to hire a man-servant to perform one daily task for me and just that one task. And that is the assignment of every morning, walking into my closet and picking out my attire for the day.

For I hate my wardrobe with a joyless passion. Some day, after I have moved into a new house or a retirement community or homeless shelter, I would like to burn it down. It's because I have the worst taste in clothes. My taste in clothes is so awful that after I purchase an article of clothing, I do not buy anything else for a long time in the fear that it will be even worse than what I had previously purchased. And that is why at least ten minutes of every single morning of my life are spent in mulling over which one of my clothes I hate the least on that particular day. Ten minutes of time that would be better spent smelling the roses, watching morning mist unfurl from dew-covered grass or pouring concrete into a foundation.

I am sick of deciding what to wear each day. I want someone to make my choice for me. I need someone to decide if I should wear a coffee stain or deodorant residue. If I should be loud of color, bright of stripe or carry around with me the rank odor of two unwashed weeks. These are tough decisions and someone has to make them. I've been in this game for a while now and now I think it is time for me to retire. My constitution cannot handle it anymore. Life is short and I feel it should not be spent trying to decide what to wear. Some people are made for it while some aren't. I am not. If you ordered me to wear a potato sack to work, I would do it happily, no questions asked. But if it were left to me, I would waste half the morning trying to decide between Idaho and Russet potatoes. It is a sad state of affairs.

So that's what I need someone to do for me. However, I do not wish to impose this thankless burden on a member of the fairer sex. Which is why I need a man-servant.

Are there any about? Soft skin and tender lips would be a definite plus.

Tuesday, August 12, 2008

Dear China

Dear Chinese Olympics Organizers,

You are fucking assholes. Kindly take your games and shove em up your ass.


Please Desist

On this issue of Please Desist, I hereby request the public to please desist from generating any more wisecracks having the following format :

"If I had a _____ for every ______, I would be ______."

This issue of Please Desist was inspired by some Republican chick on CNN saying :

"If I had a vat for every case of sour grapes from the Clintons, I would be drunk on wine right now."

So, please desist.


This blog partially endorses Circuit City who have agreed to replace my big screen tv that was struck down by an act of God who, honestly, is kind of a douchebag. The second half of my endorsement will take effect once the replacement television set is actually on my property.

This blog also endorses Best Buy who unquestioningly replaced my PS3 that also got douchebagged.

Finally, this blog endorses this Desi guy who has ably demonstrated the least feasible way of staying alive for more than 60 consecutive seconds.

(via FailBlog)