Wednesday, May 24, 2017

The Bachelorette: Breaking Down the Micropeens

I do not talk about this man once in this post. Not once. 

A chick I know recently had her heart ripped out, stepped all over and thrown against a refrigerator. In the months since her ex-boyf broke up with her, she has contemplated sui, experimented with essential oils and downloaded various sex apps on her telephone.

She now has three rules when it comes to dating:

1. No cats
2. No Samsung Galaxies
3. No micropenises

Sadly, the producers of The Bachelorette do not have the same set of standards. This season, they chose to cast the biggest bunch of bozos we've ever seen on this show (including one guy who wore a #vest).

So, even though the only thing I hate more than this TV show is this blog, I figured I'd rank these new contestants based on the size of their micro peens. Because if there's one thing in this world I know about, it's other men's dicks.

Let's rank them from macro to micro, starting with:

Fred (legit hammer cock)

Real one.

I don't care how many brothers Josiah had to cut down from trees, nothing can be more traumatizing than growing up with the name Fred. What an amazing, hilarious thing to call a person. Dogs are named Fred. Car mechanics are named Fred. Fred Flintstone is named Fred. I can guarantee that Fred has a huge, huge dick. I know this because he is black.


Literally Every Other Black Guy (totally normal-sized peens for black guys)

Hi guys. 

Three hundred years of persecution. Thousands upon thousands of dope dance moves. And six full seasons of Martin. Yet, all it took was 20 minutes of this show to shatter my lifelong belief that black people are naturally cool.

The guy who kept licking his lips? Nope. Could not handle him. The grown man who calls himself Diggy? Stop it. I liked Larry the wrestler. And the dude who constantly talked shit. But even Josiah -- and yes, very sad, very very sad about Josiah -- but dude, you don't need to tell us your whole life story on day one. Save a little something for next week. Save a little something for when you're about to be sent home. And after all that, after that judge gave you a second chance and saved your life and steered you away from a life of crime... you went and became a lawyer?

My friend Kenny Rosenbaum is a lawyer. There's nothing special about being a lawyer. Lawyers wear shirts, with buttons, and go to work and be boring. I thought Josiah was gonna say that he went on to do something that actually mattered. Like started a nonprofit for the homeless. Or resurrected the civil rights movement. Or played small forward for the Pistons. But no, he's just another stiff who wears slacks. Nice guy though. As is Kenny Rosenbaum. If you're reading this Kenny, hi Kenny.

Rachel's Dog (dog dick)

Nice doggie.

This dog definitely has a dog dick. I can tell because he is a dog.

Also, ABC dedicated three separate segments to a guy named Jamey, but only gave Ruffles 15 seconds of airtime? Unacceptable.


Guy Who Wore a Fireman Outfit (slightly above average sized dork)

I hate writing this blog so so much.

I'm sorry, anyone who has the confidence to wear a double-breasted fireman suit must be packing heat. Because I have never, not once, not ever ever ever, met a cool fireman. I know that people think they exist. I've seen the shirtless calendars. I remember after 9/11 when the NYFD guys were going on Ellen's show and being all brave and stuff. But firemen, EMTs, dudes who are into anime, bloggers: all 100%, USA-grade, certifiable micropeens.


The Colombian Guy (cold, refrigerated, pre-cooked hot dog)

You can almost feel how cold and wet that dog is from the pic, can't you?

I appreciate this guy going on national television and taking his tongue and touching it against a black woman's tongue, but anyone who acts that aggressively must be overcompensating for something. This man is nothing special. Also, when kisses Rachel on the cheek he makes a stupid "mwah" sound and my wife can't stand when people do that and I support her in every way possible so I officially LOATHE him.


Whablammo Guy (Mike and Ike)

What is that right-shoulder lean/dip move?
And why are those Mike and Ike's so blurry?
And why would I possibly care?

Obviously I hated this guy, but I also didn't hate him. But I hated him. But I also didn't. But I did.  Like, I want him to be murdered, but I don't hate him. But I do. My wife had to walk out of the room when he came on screen. I kinda liked him. But I still want him to die the most horrific painful death imaginable.


Blake the Physical Trainer who Claims to Have a Golden Dick (Combo)

I can't.

Somehow, this dude was more embarrassing than the Whablam guy.

Quick side note: You can totally tell when I've had enough of writing this stuff, because it just becomes one-line answer-city. Let it be known, you are now entering one-line-answer city.

Another side note: Update on my boner potion that I'm taking. For those of you who didn't read my last post, my friend Guitar Jr. recently sent me some boner potion that is supposed to be "The Viagra of the Amazon." I am currently on Day 4 of taking the potion (three times a day) and I miiiiiiiiight be starting to feel the effects. Not that I'm walking around all day with a full-fledged jackhammer, but I did wake up this morning harder than Chinese arithmetic. So I've got that goin' for me.

Now back to your regularly scheduled blorg post.

Jonathan the Tickle Monster (Tic Tac)

I've never.

Clearly this guy is on the spectsh, right?

I am not a violent person (mainly because I have zero muscle tone on my body), but if a grown man were to ever have me close my eyes, stick my hands out and then tickle my rib cage, I would slug him in the face with a stapler. This man is certifiable.


Chris Harrison (slimy, shriveled-up mushroom)

Google image search: "Soggy, Wet Mushroom"

At one point in the show on the show on Monday, Chris Harrison referred to After the Final Rose as "AFR."


Guy who told Rachel "I wanna go black and never go back" (inverted turtle head that literally sits inside his own asshole)


Yo. Fuck this guy.





This song, entitled "Coffee," is a certified banger. When I played it for my friend, Hart (and keep in mind, the hook goes "black coffee no sugar no cream black coffee no sugar no cream"), he thought it was actually about coffee. Turns out it's not. Take a listen and see if you can find the deeper meaning. Hint: It's about having sex with a black man. 

See you next week. 

Maybe.

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Mommy Dead and Dearest: Wooooooooooooo, Dusty!

Wowzers bowzers.

There's not many things in this world that deserve a "wowzers bowzers."

The view from Macchu Picchu? Wowzers bowzers.

Those hot breakfast scrambles that come in an iron skillet with biscuits and gravy and full-throttle, level-19 diarrhea? Wowzers bowzers.

Kim Jong-un's haircut?

I'll take "Wow Bow" for 800, Alex. 

But now you can add a new wow bow to the list: Mommy Dead and Dearest, HBO's latest documentary about a sick, sick, sick mother who keeps her daughter captive until her daughter finds an autistic pervert to slit her throat. This story, my friend, is a certifiable wowzers bowzers.

Honestly the whole thing is just gut wrenching. And horrible. And downright bonkers. With so many bonkers characters and so many bonkers moments that a good portion of the bonkersness gets lost in the bonks because you're so busy freaking out about the bonks. They could've made an entire documentary just on Gypsy Rose's dad's hats.

So seeing that you probably missed out on some bonks while you were bonking out, let's go over some of the other wowzers bowzers that didn't get nearly enough attention in the doc.

Such as:

Oh, hello. 

CAPTAIN UPPER CHEEK TATTOO

I absolutely loved Dee Dee's nephew, or cousin, or whoever he was--you know, the former lead singer of Seether. What was he? A welder? I didn't even know welding was still a profession.

Although to be honest, I couldn't get over the fact that he was wearing that stupid winter hat during his interview. I figured he was probably bald and/or trying to get a VH1 reality dating show, but turns out he has a nice full head of hair. I found him on the 'Gram. He also happens to be one of those fitness dudes who cares way too much about his bod. Check out his Instagram page; lots of pics of him with his shirt off, and also this picture of his super boring breakfast.

Underscore Kim Underscore Broussard likes it. 


OHHHHH, NICHOLAS GODEJOHN. 
WHAT A WEIRD, WEIRD LAST NAME.

And then of course there's Nicholas Godejohn, you know, the guy who slashed Dee Dee's throat and said he might want to rape her, but no no no he's not into necrophilia, not at all, he wouldn't rub his dork on a dead woman's body, never, never, but he would masturbate in a McDonald's for NINE STRAIGHT HOURS.

How is that even possible?

You gotta think that after, oh, I dunno, four minutes? someone woulda said SOMETHIN'. And by the  eight-minute mark, someone would've thrown a Filet 'o Fish at him. Maybe, mayyyyyyyyybe, if he was quietly JACKING HIS DORK RIGHT OFF HIS BODY, with some sort of ball gag in his mouth to muzzle his grunts, he coulda slid under the radar for, oh, I dunno, 11 minutes? But nine hours?! How is that even fun?

In somewhat related/not that related news, my buddy Guitar Jr. recently got wayyyyyyyyy into essential oils, and gave me some sort of organic aphrodisiac potion that's supposed to help your boners. Not that I need help with my boners, I mean, I can still get a bone job, I can, I totally can, I will go to any McDonald's right now and get a full-fledged bone job, but it's just that, you know, when you turn 40 (and yes, ugh, I recently turned 40), your bone jobs aren't quite the bone jobs they once were. Sure, sure, they still bone okay, but they don't quite bone out like they did when you were 19. That being said, I have yet to try the bone job potion because I'm scared I might break my bone. To be continued, I guess.

Amazing that this could be the second creepiest dude at your local McDawgs.


GYPSY ROSE'S SINGING? 
WOOF. 

Back to the Gypsinator. I know. I know. It's ridiculously sad that Gypsy Rose was being treated for cancer without actually having cancer, but her singing performance at that cancer charity benefit was downright shitty. I'm guessing she was trying to sing that shitty because her mother told her to sing that shitty, but that singing was really, really shitty.

But regardless of how shitty she sang, how did she (and Dee Dee) get by all those doctors? That's the scariest part of this whole thing (even scarier than that pic of Gypsy Rose licking a knife, which, you gotta admit, was kinda hot?), that doctors can be so stupid.

My wife (who is real) gets very upset when I make fun of doctors, because her mother, father, brother and stater-in-law are all docs, but a lot of doctors (and people) are just plain ole fucking idiots. How they managed to let Gypsy Rose slip through the cracks--so, so sad. And I understand that Dee Dee was a master manipulator, but still. Ugh.

I couldn't find a picture of Gypsy Rose singing,
so here is a picture of her stepmom's all-white New Balances instead. 


DEE DEE'S STEPMOM? 
AMAZING. 

But maybe the most bonkers storyline that slipped under the radar involved Dee Dee's stepmom. You know, the old ass lady with the all-white New Balances who might've been from Louisiana, but also very well could've been from some former country in the Eastern Bloc. Anyway, how about the fact that Dee Dee tried to kill her by feeding her ROUNDUP?!

What does that even mean?

She sprayed Roundup into her Cream of Wheat?

I mean, I'm all for pulling a prank from time to time. In college, I filled up my friend Noodle's Brita with salt and waited under his bed to watch him drink it, and after he took one sip and almost barfed all over the place I felt so bad that I immediately popped out and apologized. He ended up beating the shit out of me and pulling my pants down in front of pretttttttttyyyyy much every chick in our entire dorm. Lucky for me, I could still pull off a somewhat respectable bone job at the time.

Anyway, pretty good documentary.

I recommend it.






Moving on, The Bachelorette starts this Monday and I do not not not want to watch or blog about it. But many of my readers (three) asked me to, so maybe I will (I won't). I mean, I have written (on just this blog alone) over ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY posts about that stupid sexxxual game show. I just can't anymore. But I might. Anyway, I went to Dollywood last week. Here's a picture of Dolly Parton with Kermit the Frog.