Friday, May 28, 2010

7 Stages

 The other day after once again eating an obscene amount of fast food I came to the painful realization that much like grief there are 7 stages you go through in the process of purchasing and eating fast food.

Stage one. Desire.
This one is plain an simple, desire with your initial craving which is either sparked by an inebriated state, or seeing a commercial on TV, most likely a combination of the two.

Stage two. Anticipation.
In this stage you weigh the risk of putting your life in danger in order to get to the food even quicker, all the while thinking about the menu in your head. If you're as pitiful as I am, you probably speed to get there.

Stage three. Realization.
This stage is all about the realization you have upon unwrapping your burger to realize this mangled and crushed sandwich looks fucking absolutely nothing like the sandwich which initially sparked your craving. I guess you could also call this stage disappointment or rage, because you inevitably feel cheated as you stare down your clump of artificial food goodness, and curse the jackass who made it for you and undoubtedly left a little piece of himself inside.

Stage four. Fulfillment.
Easily the greatest stage of fast food. You realize your there right as you take the first bite and ascend into fast food heaven. Common symptoms of this stage include: moaning, proclaiming “this is the best burger ever,” or stating “this is fucking delicious.”

Stage five. Fullness
Stage five is a blissful place where you have finished your food, you're full and very happy with your decision.

Stage six. Craving.
This occurs shortly after stage five when you are satisfied with your meal. Suddenly you can't understand it but you really want more of the garbage that you just ate, which causes you to weigh the options in your head or discuss them with your friends.

Stage seven. Regret.
Easily the worst part about fast food. Inevitably you will feel like absolute shit after digesting the excessive amount of grade E meat which you just pushed down your throat. It comes on quick, but it comes on strong, you suddenly feel like you are going to explode and want to die. This stage typically includes lots of moaning and groaning coupled with excessive amounts of complaining by all cohorts who also ate the food. As this stage continues someone will inevitably state that they “will never eat this shit again” or suddenly get the urge to talk about going on a diet. Save us all the trouble, you're going to keep eating it, and you're not going to go on a diet. Deal with it.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

Sorry for the Brief Hiatus.

An apology to the few people who read this, but i have been quite busy as of late and therefore the posts have fallen by the wayside.  In order to supplement I searched through stuff i have previously written, and this is a rant I wrote earlier in the year yet never posted.

 After parking my car this morning in the commuter lot I waited for the bus to bring me to the center of campus just like everyday before, but ended up receiving quite a surprise. Upon entering the bus I quickly found out that this bus driver believed he was either an air craft pilot, or drove a greyhound across the country. He began reciting his whole spiel including but not limited to: telling us not to smoke in the onboard bathrooms, not to drink unless we brought enough for everyone, and more, all in the stereotypical pilot voice filled with lots of static and “well... looks like.... etc.” Some of you might not understand why this is ridiculous and a problem, so allow me to elaborate on the context of this situation. This is a freaking 5 minute bus ride, on a shuttle bus which has no bathrooms and is filled with students trying to read before class and or an exam, however, this guy seemed intent on not allowing any of that to happen because he talked the ENTIRE way.   

Sunday, May 16, 2010

A Brief Thought About Cosmo

 Cosmo... The bane of all men's existence, and apparently a magazine which is programed into all women's minds at birth as the absolute truth. For as long as I can remember this literary powerhouse has been filling women's heads with quite questionable information. Case and point, the male prostate. Before I continue I must make an announcement to all women who are reading this: Unless otherwise instructed it is NEVER ok to pull a quick one on a man and slam your index finger into his one way tunnel in search of the prostate. As previously stated it's a one way tunnel which carries harsh penalties for infractions. Punishments could include and are not limited to: donkey punching, a one way ticket to the kitchen express, and/or other sandwich making activities.  

Friday, May 7, 2010


       What the hell has happened to the music industry in the United States? More importantly, why are people so content with listening to auto tuned trash these days? Case and point Ke$ha. Without a doubt she is the single handedly the dumbest “pop star” that has ever existed. I seriously think she has some sort of brain damage, there is no other explanation for how someone can think that this passes as a song:

She fucking moans and groans the whole time! It sounds like she was choking on a cock the entire time she recorded this song. Even in situations where she has time to prepare herself for softball questions she comes out looking dumb as a freaking post:

       I'm hard pressed to recall a time where the phrase shit for brains was more applicable.  Let's not also forget what used to be the bench mark for female talent in the 50's:

What the hell happened?!  How the hell has ke$ha become acceptable in society?!  I'm genuinely concerned that she may be rabid, or possibly the poster child for Ashton Kutcher's greatest Punk'd skit ever with the world being the punkee.

Thursday, May 6, 2010

Cinco de Mayo

       Tonight reminded me that anytime I hear someone say the phrase "Cinco de Drinko" I resist the urge to find the nearest blunt object and slam my head against it.  Historical incompetencies aside (it's not fucking Mexican independence day!) this phrase shakes me to the bone anytime I hear it, and automatically makes me hate anyone who mutters it with a passion.

Tuesday, May 4, 2010

General Formatting Question

       Should the clock in the background be smaller?  Thoughts?

Monday, May 3, 2010

Automatic Bathrooms

       Ah, the convenience that is motion censored bathrooms, from toilets, to sinks, even hand dryers, it's all done for us now. It's not that I don't see the practicality of these technologies, it's just that I have yet to enter a bathroom in which they were implemented properly. Take for instance the motion censored toilet, an excellent idea in theory, but in practice it results in gallons of water being shot into pooters daily. If somehow they were calibrated properly and didn't flush while you were on the toilet it would be a wonderful device.
       I know at this point some of you might be thinking, “this has never happened to me,” well if that is your case, consider yourself lucky, because when you least expect it the toilet will strike, leaving you with nothing but an uncomfortably wet asshole and low self esteem. Let's save ourselves the nitty gritty and move onward to the motion censored faucets.
       These little buggers typically always come on when I need them to, so no complaint there. My problem deals with the temperature settings on these faucets. I'm going to take a shot in the dark and say that most people would enjoy washing their hands with warm or luke warm water, but with these it seems that you either get: burn the skin off your hands hot, or shrivel your penis in a second cold. It's not like you have a choice either, There is no in between! Once again something that could be incredibly convenient ends up doing more harm then good.
       Finally we have the motion censored paper towel dispensers. The motions we make in front of these machines in order to retrieve a piece of paper towel are absolutely ridiculous. Countless times I have watched men breakdown into some awkward form of the chicken dance as they wave their hands and arms every which way in hopes of being rewarded a paper towel for their troubles. Sometimes they get it, sometimes they don't. It's great to watch others struggle with these, yet it leaves me feeling like a complete asshole when I attempt to get a paper towel. In closing, fuck you automatic bathrooms.