Lance Bass Ruined My Life

There Is No Witty Title That Will Do This Travesty Justice, So I Am Just Not Even Trying To Find One

I got punched by a first grader. Yeah, you read that right. I got punched by a first grader. A fucking first grader. Seriously. I am still in fucking shock over this. I mean let’s break this down…a…fucking…first…grader…fucking…punched…me…fuck!

Look, I know I shouldn’t because it tends to piss people off, but I am so going to tell people how to raise their children. Granted, I haven’t been too particular about who I piss off because well, I just don’t give a shit. That’s the total bonus of being me.

So here’s my first piece of advice. Stop fucking up your kids. There is something seriously wrong with your kid if he thinks it’s okay to punch a teacher, even if it is just a substitute. And then what is even less helpful is when you come to pick up your kid and find out that he has been suspended, you throw a hissy fit and want your kid’s suspension taken away. Yeah, well, bitch, I want a lot of things that aren’t going to happen. So get the fuck over it. I understand that your kid being home for three whole days is going to interfere with your busy life of crack whoring, but we all must come to terms.

And here’s another piece of advice. If you are fucking moron, don’t procreate. And if you must, and clearly you do, don’t find another fucking moron to do it with. I mean I get that your options are limited with the low IQ and all but fucking hell. What you get when you do this is a little fucking moron who punches teachers.

By the way, I am not sure if you can tell, but I am fucking bitter as hell about this. And it’s not just because I got punched. By a first grader, in case you have forgotten. But it’s more that when I brought this up to the office, their response was, “Yeah, that happens.” Um..really? Like that’s just cool with them.

At the risk of sounding old and shit, but what the fuck is up with kids in school. I would say that they have lost their minds, but I really don’t think they have minds to begin with. I remember how boring school was when I was stuck there, but these aren’t bored stares that I am getting when I am talking.

They are just completely vacant stares that tell me nothing is going on in there. And I just look at them and realize that this will be what leads the world someday. It makes me want to build a bomb shelter and burrow myself in there with a lifetime supply of Popeye’s Biscuits and toaster waffles and hope for it all to end.

Speaking of which, I am hearing the siren call of the toaster waffles right now. If you will excuse me I am going to go toast me some waffle goodness and try to forget the existence of this evil first grader.

Did I mention he fucking punched me?

Zen And The Art Of Telling Your Boss To Fuck Off

There is something fundamentally soul cleansing about quitting your job. It’s even better when you give them absolutely no notice that you are walking out on them. And, just to add a cherry to the cupcake of life, when they try to say anything, you should scream out, “Shove a slurpie up your ass, my friend.” (This makes so much more sense when you know the nationality of my boss.) I highly recommend everyone do it.

So, if you can’t guess by now, I quit my job. It was very freeing. It was really time to get the fuck out of there. And as an added bonus, it’s been weeks since I’ve smelled patchouli or had to look at that thing they used to cook that looked like diarrhea. Though the real kick in the ass was when I asked for a one dollar an hour raise and they told me that they couldn’t afford it. Now this really wouldn’t have surprised me that much because the hotel is a bit of a shit pool and is pretty much losing money left and right. I mean when there are more roaches then guests in the hotel, you are pretty much asking for it. But it had been two years and I was still making the same thing I was hired at. But then I turn around and find out that one of the girls I trained a few months ago had gotten two raises in the four months that she worked there.

Well, let’s just say that this unleashed a gay storm like you could not believe. I mean I almost broke my fingers from all the snapping and my neck still doesn’t feel right from all the rolling it did. My boss was just unprepared for the bitch fit I threw. His reasoning was something about her attitude being better than mine. (If your first thought was that he was right, we are not friends anymore. You are to leave this website immediately. Go to some other place where your being right will be appreciated. I’ll have none of that here. And check your car because I’ve probably already keyed it.) My response to this was that she might have a better attitude but I just wasn’t willing to sleep with the guests the way she does to get those good comments. Oops. Did I let the secret out? Oh fuck yes I did.

So I stormed out in all my bitch fit glory. And I was perfectly willing to go about my merry way and forget that they existed until the day I heard on the news that the entire hotel got sucked into a portal to hell and my boss is getting a pineapple shoved up his ass. But no, they couldn’t just let it go. No. They had to be a bitch and withhold my paycheck for three weeks because they felt the need to teach me a lesson. I’m assuming it’s that because I refuse to believe that the stupid accounting bitch is so stupid that she can’t work mail. This belief was shattered when I finally got my check to find that she mailed my check two weeks after she said she was going to (Yes, bitch, I actually looked at the postmark.) only to find that she wrote the wrong address. Luckily, the people at the post office weren’t as mentally retarded as this woman.

So now I am left with no other choice but to destroy them. I just don’t understand why people haven’t realized that I am the wrong person to piss the fuck off. I worked the graveyard shift. There isn’t a whole lot to do on that shift. Do you know how I spent my time? Snooping. And making copies of all the illegal shit that my boss was doing. Oh and guess what else I found? The email address to the person at the corporate office who is charge of making sure the hotel is following company standards, which makes her the person who decides if the hotel can keep it’s name or not. Hmmmm. Whatever should I do?

Yes, I may be a jealous bitch. Yes, I might be a vindictive person. But you could also look at it like I am doing my community a service by ridding the world of a plague of cheap bastards and perhaps banishing them to an alternate dimension where they will be forced to watch The Wendy Williams Show 24 hours a day.

I’ll take my humanitarian award now.

Severe Nerdom

There have been a lot of accusations flying around and I would like to address them. I would like it to be known by the world (or at least the tens of you that read this) that I am not a Gleek. I do not like to be addressed this way because…well because the name is kind of stupid. Besides, it’s completely inaccurate. It’s pretty clear that I am a full blown Gleetard.

Case in point. Today I crawled out of bed to go to Half Price Books. For those of you who might be unfamiliar with this wonderful store, it is store that sells books at half price. It’s like The Almighty Popeye’s Biscuit’s gift to cheap nerds. (Basically me.) The whole point of this excursion was because I got it into my head that my life would just not be complete unless I finally read The Lord of The Rings.

Yes, I have gone the entirety of my life without having read the entire series. It’s been part of my lifelong ban on anything that could be considered classic literature. I mean sure I’ve watched the movies, which I am pretty sure is better because the books don’t actually have a sweaty Viggo Mortensen frolicking though them. But still I felt the need to read them. So off I went.

Well, me in a bookstore never goes well. Namely because I can’t just get what I want and get the fuck out. No. I have to fucking browse. Which never ends well because for some reason walking into a bookstore always makes me have to poop. I don’t know if it something they are piping into the air there or if books have some sort of magical fiber power that I was never made aware of, but needless to say it fucking sucks.

But anyway, so I spent the time browsing. I mean I was in there for like two fucking hours. I really couldn’t help it. I start scanning the shelves and I just know that if I don’t look at ever single book on the shelves I will miss the one book that I have been looking for my entire life without even knowing it. Yes, chances are that I will not find that book on the Danielle Steel shelf, but you never know.

So two hours later, can anyone guess what I didn’t walk out of that store with? Yup, the one thing that I went in there for. But you know what I did leave with. Glee The Beginning: An Original Novel. (Spanky, you know which one I am talking about. The one that I totally fagged out over when we went to see Wicked. (On a side note, did you know that fagged is an actual word. I never would have guessed. I just assumed I was being quirky and making up cool words. And now you know. And knowing is half the battle. And the other half involves getting off the couch, which I’m just not all about.))

So yes, I chose Glee over Lord of the Rings, which makes me a true Gleetard. And I still remain one even though I have been waiting forever for Kurt to get it on with that super hot private school kid who I just want to do bad things to. In my defense, the Glee book only cost five dollars while it would have cost me twenty four dollars to get the Rings trilogy. And I’m nothing if not a cheap nerd.

The only downside to this is that now I am going to have to picture the amusing musical numbers in my head and I’m just not sure I am gay enough for all that.

A Shitty Christmas

So what did you get for Christmas? Anything good? Well, let me tell you about my fabulous presents. I got a cool GPS for my car, a gift card to Amazon, and some sort of stomach virus that caused me to sit on the toilet for two weeks. I have no proof of this but I completely blame Santa Claus, which is complete bullshit because I have been a good boy this year. I mean thinking bad things and wishing evil on stupid people doesn’t really count, right?

Though I’m positive the big fat guy gave me this, it’s also a possibility that I got this from the kids at school who have awful ass parents who have failed to teach them to wash their hands after they do anything. I really don’t want to think about what is living on those kids hands, but it’s obviously something that can cause you to crap for two weeks straight. So way to go, parents.

So that made my holidays very fucking interesting. Isn’t the only good part of this god awful holiday is to be able to eat with abandon and not give a shit about it? Well that doesn’t work out so well when the second you eat something, you’ve got to go to the bathroom.

And in case you are wondering that’s also how I rang in the New Year. It made for a very fucked up holiday. I mean I pretty much hate the holidays to begin with because I am a bitter, angry person but this was just some fucked up shit…literally.

So now another year has passed, leaving me hoping that next Christmas will be a little better. And really, with the bar so low all I really need is a present and not to be sitting on the toilet the whole time and it’s pretty much 100% better.

So, in closing, fuck you Claus. I know you did this to me. You better watch yourself next year. I hope you like Oatmeal Raisin and Laxative Cookies. It’s the gift that will keep on giving.