Posts tagged ‘entertaining’

Crappy Birthday in September 

Quite literally. 

For the city dwellers who can’t get enough of that sweet, sweet guano producing fowl that is ever omnipresent in urban areas the world over. 

Pigeons. 

Fathered crap bags. Cast in stone…or clay. 

“It reminded me of you.” Normally this can be a quite romantic line, but with this, you can tell a yuppie what you think of them. Urban crap bag. Ucrab. 

Crappy Birthday! A.

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Crappy Birthday in August 2017

Got that detestable garbage human Hipster scum in your circle of acquaintances?

Their birthday is coming up?

PERFECT!

These revolting socks are the perfect gift, for a perfect asshole. They will surely like it, because it is before they are cool, because they’ll never be cool. And these socks a shining (or screamingly loud) warning beacon. 

Warn others. Gift these socks.

Crappy Birthday.
A.

More irritating food stuff…

After all the other vile garbage (the ingredients to summon the vegan Demon of bad taste for example), I found the next questionable item to go with it. 

It is literally called “Test of courage”: 

A chocolate bar with enough Scoville to be allowed only from the age of sixteen up.

I don’t know about you, but I’d rather have my fill of tear jerking spiciness the old fashioned way:

Crappy Birthday in June

Know a smoker? Hate the living crap out of that fucker? Want to gift him/her with the worst curse from Pandora’s box – false hope?


Lucky you! 

This cigarette case, with the hopeful message of survival, whilst containing suicide in small doses, is the perfect gift for this occasion. 
Crappy birthday,

A.

Mother’s day 2017

Been to a gift shop, found these “innocent” party masks. 

I have seen that movie. Those three are going to have their way with a woman in an all night ravaging orgy. 

So, there’s a gift idea for this Sunday’s mother’s day 2017: If you don’t know mommies three “best friends”, just give her these masks, she’ll make good use of them. 

Crappy Mother’s day, and if you get a new sibling in February, and your mommy calls them an animal name like rabbit, deer or teddy/bear – you’ll know more than you ever wanted…

Advices (part I?)

I am usually not one to browse the advice columns, and even if I per chance glimpse one or two funny things in there, I just quip about it with my wife and my best friend, and then it’s done.

But this time I’ve got to steal a format from Buckley. 

Dear anybody but the lunatic, 

I recently caught my fiancé and his sister together and broke up with him. I’d always gotten a strange feeling about their closeness, but I didn’t believe it until I saw with my own eyes. To my family and friends, it seems like I woke up one morning and decided not to get married. Everyone is pushing me to work things out with my fiancé. Initially, I wanted to keep what I saw between them and me. If I tell people they have an incestuous relationship, it would probably destroy their lives. I know they’re barely functioning and terrified I will tell people about them. I’m worried I will seem spiteful if I tell even a few trusted loved ones the real reason I called off the wedding. At the same time, I’m heartbroken too and don’t know how much longer I can handle lectures about “letting a good man get away.” Should I stay quiet or speak up?

Signed, let’s call her Lonesome in Lannisport.

(Note: The original advice columnist suggested at the end to tell people that the fiance was unfaithful and to leave it at that, as it contained enough truth.)

Dear Lonesome,

call me an evil maniac or a vengeful shitlord, but I’d say that you should tell them.
Tell your friends, your family, their family, the local newspaper, church congregation, everyone. 

If I got cheated on in preparation to our weeding, I’d make both their lives living hell. Siblings in an incestuous relationship, makes that only that much easier, as no one in their right mind would defend their behavior. You know, there is always some friends, relatives, counselors, or someone who side(s) with the cheater, rather than the cheated. Making up excuses. Trying to get you, the cheated, to see things from their, the cheaters, point of view. Not here.
We have a Jamie and Cersei situation here, and this ain’t Game of Thrones. Don’t be worried that it’ll ruin their lives if you tell. THEY should’ve thought about that before doing the dance with no pants together, and brought that all upon themselves. You on the other hand will get support from your community (friends, relatives, bla bla bla) instead of pressure, and they get what they deserve.

So please, tell them the whole truth, before a Geoffrey gets conceived. 

Take care, 

A.

Season of death

Others find spring romantic.
Everything awakens from their wintery slumber, blossoms open, life seemingly begins anew. It’s the season to fall in love in, the season for wedding vows, for having children, for outdoor activities, for outdoor sports. The season for life!

I, however, think that spring is the season of death.
Not just because my grandparents died shortly before and during spring respectively, but because of those opening blossoms.

Worse than the radioactive deathcloud from Chernobyl had hit us, this hits home every year.

Pollen.
Clouds and clouds of pollen.

I wake up in the morning with a sore throat and clogged nose, every breath hurts as if I had smoked two packs of cigarettes last night, minus the smell. And my eyes water and itch as if some jokster had strewn sand into them.

Outdoor activities?
Yes please, but only when it rains, or shortly thereafter.
Romantic?
In a morbid way, sure.
The same way some people think venomous snakes are romantic (or pretty), I think of beautiful springtime flowers/blossoms.

It never fails to alarm me, reminding me of my own mortality, when I wake up to an annoying cough, my eyes already a ground zero of itching and burning.
Seriously, frack spring.

PS: Despite this obvious attempt at manslaughter by mother nature, I still do my work out. It involves a lot more panting and gasping for air, but I do it anyway…