The look on that dude’s face is priceless, as if he, as the PSA model, can’t even believe they asked him to make slanty eyes. So is the fact that they gave the “non stereotypical” “anti-racist” Asian woman a RICEBOWL with CHOPSTICKS. That’s all they eat, you know.
See, this is the reason I don’t like to admit that I’m a hockey fan.
This past week, as the Stanley Cup Playoffs have begun, and Sharks gave a very generous freebie to the Flames, (them Flames is gonna be CHOMPED tonite, them is), I seem to have caught a significant amount of flak from my colleagues. Not flak in the professional, ‘Oh, you shouldn’t be talking about Black People/Gay People/Hindu People/Arctic-Americans like that’, kind of way, but more in the ‘let-me-make-fun-of-you-until-all-you-can-think-of-is-regressing-to-infancy
-so-you-can-suck-on-your-momma’s-teat’ kind of way.
Por ejemplo:
Dennis: {Blah blah blah, something super-endearingly nerdy about Jonathan Cheechoo.}
Unnamed, VERY MEAN Co-worker: You know… when you talk about hockey, it doesn’t make you sound butch. It makes you sound desperate.
Dennis: Gasp! (I actually say ‘Gasp!’ here.) Well I never.
UVMC: No, but serious, what’s a gaywad like you talking about hockey? Can you even spell ‘hockey’??
Dennis: That is so totally unfair. I come from a hockey town! Besides, I have every right to talk about hockey. You’ve all been talking that motherfucking Bracket Tournament for, like, the whole month of March.
UVMC: You know it’s not called that, right?
Dennis: What’s called what?
UVMC: The Bracket Tournament. It’s March Madness. The NCAA Basketball Tournament. It’s a big deal. The brackets just refer to the betting that goes on. You filled one out. You guessed that Oral Roberts was going to take the title.
Dennis: Shut UP! I did?? Are there any hockey brackets in the office that I can get in on? I know I’d win that one.
UVMC: No. Nobody likes hockey, except you, you idiot. Continue reading
So aside from being a Cunty McCunt, (something she is so familiar with, she celebrated it in Vanity Fair a few months ago), I think it’s pretty popular knowledge that Ann Coulter has no excretory system. Or at least not traditionally. I’m sure by now, everyone’s heard of her exquisite comment on John Edwards, and I’m now quite sure that her excretions come out of the mouth. Years and years of constipation have resulted rapid single-organism evolution, until her body had adapted itself to become like one of those single-entrance/exit organisms talked about in Freshman Biology; food and fecal matter share the same channel. She certainly looks like she hasn’t taken a shit in about 26 years. Maybe that’s why she’s also so ageless, her body has pickled itself with poop?
Nothing’s funnier than uploading the Ebony Pre-Oscar Party video only to have the site’s moderators choose the sole white lady for the thumbnail. I mean, Halle Berry was there, Janet Jackson, some other famous black celebrities…and the white lady was chosen. The perfect way to celebrate black people in film, eh?
Ok, so I’ve noticed that all my titles seem more like advice to some trashy 2 year old. But whatever.
So, I was out with this guy (that I’m really not into but he doesn’t stop texting and I was kind of bored so I decided to just meet up with him again), and he wanted to meet up with his cousin and friend at this roof top restaurant. I was hesitant at first, but I’m glad I did because they were much cuter! So, we get drunk (as assumed) and among other things I drop my phone off the balcony. But that isn’t the sad-sigh part, because it wasn’t broken. So, the night goes on and I get irritated at my friend for some reason or another and find it appropriate to take his friend home instead. So, in a sneaky get away the cuter friend said he would take me home on his motorbike while his friends went to another bar. All seemed to be going well, I had a good buzz going which made me love the wind against my face on the ride home. Then, we reach an unexpected security check point and have to pull over. I find out this guy only has his “student liscence” (don’t worry he’s 26, i’m not a pedaphile), and the police impound his motor bike right on the spot! I even try to bribe the police, but to no avail. So, the fun was all over in a snap- my new cuter friend was a little upset and went home. Hopefully he will get his motorbike out of lock down tomorrow morning. But I felt like God was watching me and being a cockblock. But I’d like to think maybe s/he was just helping me out in the longrun from something horrible happening, telling me don’t try to make a getaway on a motorbike with someone you just met.
