I’m Like… Wicked Confused

According to my “New Releases” section of Spotify, the fast food restaurant Wendy’s has released a mix tape…

I’m like… wicked confused about this.

I listened to the full thing and, Goddammit, it’s actually very listenable. It hurts me to say this, but holy fuck it is very very listenable.

I don’t want to say it’s good because i fear the utterance of such a phrase may cause the end of human existence, but I can say everyone should listen to it, because it very interesting.

Here’s my confusion: 1. Why is it so listenable? and 2. WHO IS RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS???

Wendy’s is a fucking fast food restaurant (and a shitty one at that, in my opinion). How on God’s Earth did this fast food establishment gain sentience, release a mix-tape, and make me question all reality itself?

My brain hurts and I want to go to bed. I guess, go listen to it, but this does NOT make me want to eat your awful food. I still have no desire to eat your “Dave’s triple heart attack orgasm slop.” Good job with the music though.

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Please Leave Me Alone

IT’S BEEN A VERY LONG TIME MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!

WHY??

BECAUSE I’M a LAZY DEGENERATE FUCK THAT HATES EVERYTHING.

I love going to the gym, but I hate every facet of going to he gym. If I could achieve the level of success necessary to have a private gym, my life would be complete. But until then I’m going to complain about everything because I can.

If you dare ask me “how many sets I have left,” I’m going to add 2 sets to my cycle because I hate you, and I want your pretend childlike gym ego to be destroyed. I’m more man than you, plain and simple. Sorry brother but your baby arms aren’t about to impress girls any time soon. I’m going to sit over here, do whatever I want, and fuck your girlfriend. Sorry not sorry.

For you old fucks out there, waiting for for me to leave whatever machine you want.. I’M NEVER LEAVING. YOU WILL DIE BEFORE I LEAVE.

Fuck these old fucks that feel entitled to use a machine I’m using. I hope you die tonight so I don’t ever have to see you again.

DO NOT ASK ME ANYTHING AT THE GYM.

Thank you for your service in World War 2, but go fuck yourself. You get no special treatment in the gym. Wait like everyone else grandpa.

I Want to Rob a Pet Store

The title says it all.

I don’t have fantasies about being rich, but I do have dreams about having many dogs.

I went to a pet store yesterday and THERE WERE SO MANY PUPPIES. Like an insane amount of beautiful dogs. A pug licked my face and we are now married by dog law.

If a stranger walked up to me and said I’ll give you either one million dollars or these two puppies, I’d take the puppies without a second thought or any regrets. With the plethora of bank heist films why has no one tried to rob a pet store? I would love to have an armful of puppies as opposed to cash. I wouldn’t take ALL the puppies just two or three… maybe seven… okay, I’d probably take them all.

My dog is currently looking at me like I’m an idiot, “Dammit Roxie don’t you want a bundle of brothers and sisters?”

My point is, I might get a part time job at a pet store.

I’m Not Your Clown… Well Maybe

I can’t golf for shit. Fuck this sport. It’s way too hard.

I respect anyone that can golf well. My father has been golfing for decades and that mother fucker can golf like a champ.

I inherited a set of golf clubs from my father and have never possessed the ability to wield them well. But I can do one thing better than anyone onĀ  golf course… Make a fucking deal.

Allow me the opportunity to elaborate. Unless you’re a child prodigy, golf is not about skill, it’s about one of two things, either A) Something mildly athletic that can performed while drunk or B) an excellent way to make business decisions. I use it for the latter.

Many business decisions have been made on the golf course, and typically by men that have a handicap in the high twenties.

I golf for necessity, not for enjoyment. I guess my point is, if anyone that’s dumb enough to read this trash is good at golf, PLEASE GIVE ME LESSONS!

But Why Though?

Can someone please explain to me why a wide receiver has never won NFL MVP?

This is an outrage to me. Obviously I’m not attempting to understate the importance of quarterbacks or running backs, but think about the crop of talented athletes playing the wide receiver role currently. I’ve always said if a receiver were to ever win MVP Antonio Brown could be the first. Or consider the monster season Julio Jones had just a couple years ago. I suppose many would be upset if I didn’t mention Odell, but this kid has to actually play the game in order for me to consider him in contention.

The reason I’ve been thinking about this so much is because of the Minnesota Vikings. As a native Minnesotan, I spend a great deal of time thinking about the woeful Vikings (When I’m not thinking about the soon to be champion Timberwolves!! I realize this is the wrong series for this reference, but I need to say this as much as possible in order to make it true. I think that’s what “The Secret” was about, but I’m not sure because I never read it and have no idea what “The Secret” is.)

The Vikings are rubbish. Even if Sam Bradford comes back it doesn’t matter because he’s playing on borrowed time. This young man is infinitely talented, but let’s face it, he’s suffered two potentially career ending injuries and the fact he can walk is a goddamn miracle. I love Sam Bradford and I wish him the best and most successful career a QB can have, but he may unfortunately become another talented athlete whose career is cut short by injuries (The Vikings need a separate “Ring of Honor” to honor all the greats that never were due to injuries.)

ANYWAY: Receivers, this is one of the things the Vikes do so so so well. Thielen and Diggs are the most lethal receiver duo IN THE ENTIRE NFL. I said it. These men are far from the most physically imposing players, they’re no Megatron, but the thing they do better than ANYONE is run routes. Let this be a lesson to every young aspiring receiver, if you can run mad routes you’ll be a motherfucking star. If these guys are supposed to cut at seven yards, guess what, they’re cutting at seven yards. No matter what QB is playing, they know exactly where the receivers are going to be. This is a crucial role that deserves recognition for it’s contributions to the league. Diggs gets TDs (start in fantasy FYI) and Thielen gets yards (these names may be misspelled but I refuse to spell check, it’s for quitters.)

NFL, make a receiver MVP they deserve it. Think about Jerry Rice, don’t let Jerry Rice down.

Back in My Day

This has been an oddly sociable week for me, as opposed to my typical anonymity and general distaste for small talk, I’ve been trying to go to more gatherings, but I must say, it’s nice to finally be back in front of my computer listening to the new releases on Spotify.

I try not to get personal on this blog and try to stick to my usual scene of drunken hi-jinks, sports talk, and the occasional relationship story, but this has been a pretty unusual week for me, unusual in a good way. I rediscovered my love of meditation and this has lead me to rediscover things I haven’t done since I was a teenager.

I’m a very intense and angry man. Children and people not familiar with my typical aggressive persona have a tendency to describe as “scary,” I’m not fond of this descriptor. I swear I’m a nice guy, I’m just big and loud, but I have a tender soul. A mutual friend of my wife and I has a three year old daughter (she’s a goddamn angel, just the sweetest little girl) and despite having been in her life since she was a baby, she continuously shows apprehension before approaching me, and this happens with every single child I encounter. As a result, I’ve been attempting to go back to my younger days when I was a carefree youngster. Hence my return to meditation. I went through a weird spiritual phase in high school, and made meditation a part of my daily ritual, but as I got older I somehow got the impression this was stupid so I gave it up all together.

I started meditating again this week and it brought me back to the tranquility of youth. It was as if I had jumped into a sci-fi wormhole and became a teenager again. As a result, I don’t hate the world as much. So I guess my point is, find something that makes you feel young again. Regardless of what it is, the simplicity of youth will heal your mind and make you forget about the pressures of adulthood. What works for you? What methods do you all incorporate in your day to day activities that help you achieve peace?

Fuck it, Let’s do This

The Packer’s game is under rain delay, I’m listening to the single greatest song in the history of music (Animal (Fuck like a Beast) by W.A.S.P) let’s make a random end of the week post.

My freshman year of college I took an intro Spanish class (having never taken Spanish) thinking it was going to be a fun and easy credit course. I took German in high school, because as we all know, this is indeed the language of the future. I would’ve never taken this language if I would’ve known it would cause all my friends to call me a Nazi for four years.

I arrived at collegiate intro Spanish and to my surprise, the instructor was speaking Spanish… like fluently. I immediately assumed I was in the wrong course. Here’s how the first ten minutes of class went:

Instructor: “Spanish words, Spanish words, Spanish words.”

ME: “Bro, I don’t speak Spanish, that’s why I’m here.”

Instructor: “Angry Spanish words.”

I dropped the class next day. Turns out I registered for some class way beyond my comprehension, I found the right class and joined the other plebeians in our idiotic enjoyment of new languages.

Fast forward to finals time, in this class we had to do outside class activities, like take a salsa class, or fuck a Spanish girl, you know, extra shit. The kid that sat next me (let’s call him Ken) we decided we were going to show our appreciation for Spanish the best way we knew how, drink Jose Cuervo and watch Spanish movies. Here’s how that went:

“Hey professor, Ken and I have an idea for our final project.”

“Great! What were you two thinking?”

“Can we get drunk on Cuervo and watch Spanish movies?” I was expecting an immediate no from the professor, but to my surprise he was actually thinking about it.

“Is this really what you want to do?” he asked.

“Honestly, yeah.” I said expecting him to throw us out of class.

“Well boys… I won’t give you an A, but if that’s what you want to do, I will give you both a grade.” At this point I’m almost certain Ken had six heart attacks.

So, we went home, got obliterated on Cuervo and wrote two of the most beautiful research papers on “Y Tu Mama Tambien” the world had ever known, and guess what, we both got a C+. I’ve never been more proud of myself.