The Watcher

If there has ever been a bad day in your life and you begin to think, "man, what's the point?" I have the place for you. The Costco, preferably the one in Victorville, is the utopia for all that you are not and can never be. Sit in the food court for an hour tops (you'll go crazy otherwise) and observe. Plethoras of stretch pants and pootches exaggerated by tight shirts. Mullet tails -- my dad thought the guy was wearing a coon skin hat. There was this elderly lady sporting a butch hair cut, a pink pin-striped cowboy style shirt and cowboy style jeans (which were too high) accompanied by some old colonial shoes. This lady was a grandma 3 generations over. There are also people with bellies everywhere, uncontained by their constricting shirts, and to top it off, the craziest part is that they act as if the world is graced by their presence. I have never left a place feeling more exuberant and full of personal satisfaction of the person I am.

"I'm the Boss" said the shirt the overweight lady was wearing. I stood aghast for a good amount of time before I collected myself enough to take her order. I could hardly concentrate. She was wearing the infamous "I'm the boss" shirt with that duck with the large head who was wearing only a blue t-shirt. OMG, I didn't think these shirts existed anymore. I suddenly had the eager desire to rip the shirt off of the lady and head down to the Antiques Roadshow to see what this baby was worth. The likelihood of someone showing up with one of these shirts is about as great as someone seriously sporting an Alf shirt and a fannypack at the same time. Now, I'm sure you're thinking that is actually quite likely, but when you consider that those people would have worn that shirt out by now you are quick to reconsider. Even when I had only existed for a mire decade, I knew those shirts contained the power only major nerds possessed. I am in such a state of disbelief. Just a fun fact: It took me 30 minutes to find this picture on the internet. I had almost lost all hope when I found someone selling this shirt on ebay. Currently $5.75 if you were wondering.

Always pisses me off...

Freakin' Betty Boop. That character is the ugliest thing I have ever seen. Why do people love it soooooo much? I know I wasn't around when it was popular so I'm sure I can't possibly understand. (If you know, please enlighten me) I see this shit everywhere. On license plate frames, stickers, omg, and someone's t-shirt at least once a day. I become unrealistically infuriated when I see this memorabilia. It's ugly and I hate the name. Betty Boop. Ugly. Who came up with that? This person should be confined to a small room in some hicks basement where I will tie them to a chair (that is uncomfortable) and I will sing them "Bye, Bye, Bye" by Nsync over and over again for a week. I'm sure at one point I'll record myself singing it so I can leave and take a shit or something, but no matter what, it will be worth it. I'm sure you're thinking to yourself right now "this person is crazy" and that may be true, but rest assured, my hate is for Betty Boop is strong and inextinguishable. And that is something that cannot be bought. I'm rambling now.

Generationally Confused

After pulling a "late nighter" (cuz I sure as hell was not staying up alllll night) I head to Starbucks in search of the magic that is caffeine. While waiting for my drink and staring somberly at the ground, I notice this woman. As my eyes make their way up her body, she has beautifully manicured toes complete with a toe ring snuggly fit in her 3 inch pink platform sandals. She is wearing cute little capris with shoe string ties up the sides of her hips. Her top is in the current fashion of a pink baby doll tee over a white tank top. She has strikingly bleached blonde hair that is long and straight. As I finish my scan, I hear the sound in my head that is usually made in movies when something unusual is noticed and the persons eyes revert from their current position back to the thing their mind just processed. This moment for me: after observing this woman's hair, the sound made its appearance in my head and my mind and eyes immediately reverted themselves to this woman's veiny liver spotted arms. Wahhh!!! I then looked at her face which was turned away from me initially. This lady is old! Like worn in leather. All tan and like 50. WTF? Last time I checked, American Eagle was not for wise old owls. Then it occurs to me, she's at starbucks...of course. Starbucks is one place that is an allowed and accepted hang out for all generations. In conclusion, I don't walk around wearing muu muus and you shouldn't wear American Eagle.

OMG...

What is going on next to me right now? I am at school in the computer lab. This girl, who I would not have sat next to if I had known she was this rude, is talking loudly on her phone. She was not here when I sat down, although her stuff was. She was off doing something and came back on her phone. Now that your caught up, lets discuss the situation. She comes back and is talking so loudly on her phone that everyone around me looks in astonishment at her, including myself. While Californians are very rude by nature, she is over the top. So she sits down, still talking on her phone. I listen intently although I really had no choice. She's talking to who at first I assume to be her boyfriend. Then she says "but your gay baby" Ok, so who is she talking to now? I'm still thinking her boyfriend. The convo is more awkward that any Will & Grace banter and the way she refers to him is in a boyfriend way. Ultimately confused I proceed to ignore her. While talking she is working on some class project, marketing I believe. She opens this book she brought back when she first sat down. She then proceeds to scatter her shit all up in my ness. (Ness is an insider word derived from a man with a condition and his gay ex-friend which is used to describe everything yet describes nothing. Very difficult to understand so I won't try to explain it) Anywho, I am now having difficulty moving my mouse because her shit is everywhere. I am frustrated beyond all means and decide the best thing to do is write this blog. Although I am sitting next to her, she is entirely too self involved to even notice that I'm writing about her. Muahaha.... In conclusion, the library and computer labs, both places filled with silence, are not a place for you to be on your phone.

Hoopties

Now, as I am unsure if "hoopties" is an actual word, nevertheless, it describes exactly what I need it to. Ok, so I'm driving down the freeway in the fast lane. What's this in front of me? A busted ass, old, red, piece of shit that is dented to such an extreme amount that it looks like its rolled on every crevice of its frame. There are no hub caps or side mirrors in sight and the trunk is being held shut by a very worn out bungee cord. Both bumpers are dented, tweaked and half missing and the windshield adorns a crack that spans from the left side to the right. There are innumerable amounts of bird feces and countless layers of dirt surrounding the chipped paint. Not to mention that I have to turn off my air in order to avoid the deathly fumes coming from their exhaust pipe.
Now that hoopties or singularly known as hoopty, has been described to a T, the purpose of this blog can now commence.
So remember, I'm in the fast lane. This thing is going 60-65 tops where the speed limit is 70. The fast lane is for people like me who travel a good 5 mph over the speed limit or more. Every one behind me is passing and consequently I am unable to pass. Big Rigs are now visibly passing me in the slow lane. As soon as there is an opening, I perform my civic duty of honking and passing.
This is an annoying moment in my life. What bothers me is that it happens all the time. If you are driving a hoopty and are unable to keep up with my 75 mph speed limit, move over! Its called the fast lane so I can go fast, not so I can observe your busted ass.

Enough!!!

Ok, so when a person provides a good or service, the recipient usually provides something in return in the form of gratitude or currency. While I have not received nor expect currency, I do expect gratitude! Leave me a comment! I don't care if its related or not. Just because you cannot provide a comment equally as entertaining as my service, doesn't mean that I cannot appreciate it just the same. Tell me your thoughts! "that was funny", "piss on you", "there's a rubber chicken in my shoe" whatever.... Anything will do. If you do feel that a form of currency is deserved, please, by all means, send it my way. Thank you.

Classic Nerdom

First of all, "Nerdom" is a term devised in order to describe when something is ultimately nerdy. Nerdom can be declared at any given time when the opportunity arises in which you are completely blown away at the amount of nerdy-ness that is going on in current actions or conversations. For example, when you find out someone you previously believed to not be associated with nerdom attends Star Trek conventions. Now, one would argue that having LAN parties, publishing a personal blog (mind you, for other peoples entertainment), and creating t-shirts via iron-on transfers (again, for other peoples entertainment) would trump the attendance of Star Trek Conventions. This is by all means, not the case. Star Trek conventions have the power to trump any and all other versions of Nerdom. Every action that falls under the term nerdom, either alone, or combined with any other amount of nerdom, still does not possess the power to trump Star Trek Conventions.

Now remember, this blog is not intended to put down or offend Trekky convention attendees, but only to argue the point of extreme nerdom. Please comment with your vote on this matter.

Billy Goats

This is mostly a public service announcement. If you have a billy goat hair, remove it!!!! If you have more than one, remove them!!! If you find this too difficult a task, take it to the professionals. But by all means, please do not force me to stare at the surplus amount of billy goat hairs on your chin. I understand if a billy goat has gotten away from you and exists without your knowledge, but when multiple billy goats take over your chin, mow that lawn!! Its just a matter of personal hygiene and respect for yourself. Oh, and while your at it, check those nose hairs.

This blog has been based on a real life event in which an unhygienic woman was sporting an unbearable amount of billy goat hairs.

Littering

Ok, as I am easily annoyed with many things (see other posts) there is one thing that pisses me off more than everything combined. That is littering. Since when were people so freakin' lazy that they have to throw their trash out the window or leave it on the ground in a parking lot rather than walk it to the trash can that is a few steps away. I make my attempts to be as lazy as possible by using elevators and leaving the dirty dishes until morning. But never something so ridiculous as leaving my trash around to dirty the world. It's bad enough I have too look at ugly people, but I refuse to look at an ugly world filled with other people's trash.

Aren't There Laws Against This?

I will start off by apologizing for not posting as frequently as I should have. I know many of you are disappointed so heres one just for you.
Ok, so as of recently the temperature has changed to a much warmer degree and I am unsure if this is the cause for many white trash women (wtw) to not wear bras. I have just been noticing flailing boobs every time I turn around. I would hope that there were some sort of laws or amendments or something that would prevent such flailing. Besides the fact that I think dangling boobs are the most uncomfortable thing, wtw should at least consider other people. When I turn my head and look at their dirty shirts and what's left of their teeth, I should NOT see saggy ass boobs dragging on the ground. I'm sorry if this post depicts unwanted visuals, but if this is what it takes to stop flailing boob syndrome, then so be it.

The Thunder Bucket

Ok, so I'm on the pot, doing my business. I reach for the toilet paper and I have to lean to the left and down to reach it. What's this? The toilet paper is lower than the toilet. How can this be? If you were hoping for an answer to this question, you will not find it here. I just don't understand how and why this would happen. It is visually obvious that the paper is lower than the pot so why not fix the problem. The last thing I need to be doing while un-wiped is leaning away from the toilet. This could be why toilets are soooo unsanitary. This post may make some people uncomfortable, but you'll be happy next time you take a trip to the john and conscientiously choose the toilet with even paper.

The Funniest Attire of All

Omg, the funniest attire of all is the fanny pack.

Academic Luggage

If there was one invention I could abolish on this earth, it would be rolling backpacks, or as I like to call them, "academic luggage". They seem to be the new unmentioned craze and quite frankly, this must stop. I cannot escape the annoyance of the academic luggage. My ultimate fantasy involving these backpacks would be that I could run up to the mylanta lady, who was mentioned earlier in "those people" and kick her backpack into oblivion.
Have you ever noticed that the people who own academic luggage always load this thing down. There's always a water bottle present and strapped to the side is a lunch pale and of course, a dozen key chains, which is another of my pet peeves.
Also, these people who are so enamored with their academic luggage drag these things behind them and apparently forget they exist. This thing is swaying back and forth like a drunk armadillo at an attempt to trip me every chance it gets. They always walk sooo slow too. And then as if I couldn't be more frustrated, the path we're walking on changes to tile and/or stairs. This thing is now swaying and making the most noise in the world, either dragging over the cracks or up the stairs. The owner doesn't even notice the new nuisance of their academic luggage. I just can't understand how someone could have such disregard for fellow classmates. Ok, that comment might be over the deep end. In concluded frustration, academic luggage should be banished from the earth and people should stop being so damn lazy.

Girls Have Jocks too...

Ok, so I'm standing in line at Wal-mart or something. I'm in just as much of a hurry as these other people to get out of that chaos. It never fails that when I move up in a line, they move up too. And they dont just move up a little, they get all up on my jock. Quite frankly, this drives me crazy. I need my personal space just as much as the next person and I don't appreciate strangers rubbin' up on my back side. What I wonder the most is don't they have a need for personal space? Why would you ever stand so close to a stranger that it makes them uncomfortable? I bet if I farted I could get my much needed space.

This guy is a character and came into my sandwich manufacturing store one day. This is the truth according to him: "Ever since I've been representing Nelly, his record sales have gone up to #1" This guy lives in Barstow, the epitome of the desert. The only thing he appears to be accomplishing is following his obvious career path of becoming a conductor on the ghetto train. Other than my take on the whole thing, the picture pretty much speaks for itself.

The rest of the Observation Book:

This is going to be a long one : /

My favorite one:

Loud Shirts

My description of a loud shirt does not consist of any sort of highly colorful or flashy shirt. Oh no, it consists of those shirts that tastelessly mix beer bottles, palm tree leaves and sharks. They scream as much color as most of us ever see in a lifetime and classically surround beer bellies. Whose idea was it to form a collage of orange maple leaves, green and purple margaritas, and red dragons? They always include three and only three concepts. The the third concept is left up to its "designer" while the first concept is some sort of plant and the second is a type of alcoholic beverage. These are the things that make an official loud shirt. All other collage type shirts are just tacky.

Halloween

Every Halloween that passes I never fail to notice at least 25% of Halloween "costumes" are of people dressed up in sleep wear. May I ask - what are these people supposed to be? Sleepers? The essence of night time? What?!?! I say these people are dressing up as lazy bastards. Its the equivalent of dressing up as yourself - not really a costume....ever. Its an excuse for not being more clever, waiting until the last minute, or being a lazy bastard! All these people have in mind is when they are "dressing up" for trick or treating is that they'll be ready for bed when they get home. They can walk off the dirty neighborhood streets all sweaty with dirty slippers and crawl in bed. Its not even fair for these people to look at other peoples costumes. Who are they to admire effort? Also, in closing, why do these people ALWAYS enter the costume contest?

Winnie the Pooh and Tigger too:

Why is that every fat trailer park living white woman owns an entire wardrobe of Winnie the Pooh (WTP) related outfits (and stretch pants, but that's another observation)? At first I figured it was because that's what they sell in Wal-Mart, but Wal-Mart only sells it because fat trailer park living white women wear and buy it. I just can't understand why this is ok. WTP is for children...C-H-I-L-D-R-E-N! There is nothing in this world that could possibly make you more sexy than WTP holding a pot of honey and chasing a butterfly with a net. They always make these shirts really long too. There are two reasons for this: First, to cover their fat ass and pootch in the day time and second, once stretch pants are removed, they are an instant night shirt! Maybe they're adored so much because they're so damn efficient! You never have to change.

Ok, well that's it for the book. I didn't get too many things written in there as I would have liked, but typing is easier. :)

Those people!!!

There are those people, the ones who show up in your college level classes, that are over 40 and always have too much to say. I have encountered plenty of these people, and quite frankly, they're freaks. They always have a question or an opinion which is the one factor that keeps you from leaving class early. I like to talk, but I never have as much to say as these people. This one lady even busts out her mylanta, alieve and a digital clock and lines it up on the table. Besides that we're in our Finance class, the class is only 1- 1 1/2 hours at the most and there is a clock on the wall; so no need for a freakin digital clock. And, if she cant read a real clock, then finance is the wrong place for her. There was also this one guy in my anthropology class who attempted to feel and appear smart at the community college by using the most difficult words he could find in the thesaurus. Either that or he just made them up. Even the instructor didn't know what the hell he was talking about half the time. In conclusion, these people are freaks and should be in a class completely dedicated to their "needs". But I guess if that were to happen, I would have nothing to talk about...

First and foremost...

Until I discovered this website, I started what I call an observation book. I housed my many opinions in this book and would like to transfer them to this website for all to appreciate. hehe.
Keep in mind, my opinions are my opinions and are intended for humorous purposes. I am sorry if I offend anyone. I wont waste time so I'll just start the first one here:

The Beginning

There are a few things I would like to start off noting. First one is the shutter my body endures when the word "mac" enters my ears. At what point was it absolutely crucial to abbreviate making out? Youth today have come up with things far more clever than the word "mac". No examples come to mind, but they do exist. Another highly annoying abbreviation is the word "tat". Again, was it absolutely necessary to abbreviate tattoo? Your leaving out three letters, what an accomplishment! Next completely and utterly annoying habit is topping off of the gasoline. Why must these retards top off the gas? First of all - shit could leak and blow up. That's a dumb and pointless way to die. Well there are dumber ways to die, but I'll leave that to the rednecks. In conclusion, topper offers are stupid.

Just the beginning..

This is just an initial post. I am full of many opinions and far more sarcastic comments. I hope you enjoy and feel free to reply to them...