Just a Fart in your Lunchbox...

Hiya, kids!

Since it's back to school time and all you sad fuckers have to go to class, I thought I would impress upon you a few things that Professor High Life has learned in the fairly recent past.  Have no fear!  This is not the T.J Maxx version like when your mom tried to convince you that no one would notice if you showed up to school in Wrangler's, my big, strong cowboy.  This is the real shit and at least 50% of it is true, unlike your actual history class:

1) Cocaine is a helluva drug (I don't think that requires any further explanation);

2) If I stop playing my guitar I sound like one of you trying to play guitar when I play it again.  Don't stop playing your guitar, asshole! (That one was really more of a reminder for me);

3) When getting a tattoo, taking morphine prior to needle touchdown, doesn't actually help at all, but in fact, makes it a thousand times worse.  For you geniuses going to pharmacology school or those who know anything about drugs (not you, Tito...call me later!), get at me because I am curious why the fuck I wasted a morphine before getting this dinner plate sized tattoo. Hypothetically or whatever.;

4) Pilates hurts.  Don't drink so much fucking beer that you need to start.  End of story.;

5) White wine sangria is way better than red.  NO headache.  NO weird red lips or dry mouth.  AND you end up with fruity little shots of delicious poor decisions to eat at the bottom of your cup.  Also, in some non-gay way, everyone looks sexy when drinking sangria.  Ay Papa!;

6) Read a fucking book, you illiterate flesh buckets!  And I don't want to see any of you reading 50 Shades of Oatmealish Gray Matter.  I mean a real book.  Also, put down your Goddamn phone when crossing the street.  I am NOT saving one more of you.;

7) HOLY SHIT!  It's going down to 75 degrees at night in NYC!?!  Better get your scarves and hats and totally awesome arm warmers with the thumb holes and a cleverly placed Super Mario patch on the wrist out!  It sure is brisk, you pop cultural limp dick.;

8) The new Battleship movie is unwatchable.  Awful.  Stop it.  The aliens do not make it worthwhile.;

9) Eat more Goldfish crackers.  They are made of Heaven and cheese and every time you don't buy a bag and eat nearly the whole thing all at once, someone shoots one of ODB's illegitimate children.  And you wouldn't want that now, would you?, and

10) Because 10 is a good round number and a pants size I have still yet to hit even after a summer of beer, brunch and just being awesome.  Not that I am approaching 10 but it's a good reminder for myself that moderation is the key to baseball, Henry!

I say this with nothing but love: Happy school year, pud whackers!

And how will you spend your summer vacation, class?

CONGRATULATIONS!!  You are now a college grad!  What are you looking to do now?!?!

I am already sick of this question.  I get it; it’s time to do something with my life.  But you know what? After all the years it took me to get my degree and all the bullshit and deep dicking I will be taking on paying back student loans, I would like to go somewhere tropical and drink pink fruity drinks out of a cabana boy’s adorable ass-dimple for a few weeks.  Fuck it.  A month.

I don’t want to think about anything but tilapia tacos, getting sand out of the vagina of my life, and the mechanics of how drinking a ton of margaritas the night before makes your crap black.

I want to not think about my future for more than five consecutive minutes.

I would love nothing more than fisting my face-hole with shrimp cocktails while I turn my skin into something resembling a California Raisin’s ball sack until the hot sun.

Suffice to say I need a vacation.  A serious break.  I only wish I liked bananas.

You mcnasty.

Bitches be fake washing their hands after using the public restroom.
You know who you are. Someone else (me) came in the bathroom as you were finishing up and now you are thinking, “Aw fuck. Now I have to wash my hands.” Because if no one else was around, you sure as shit weren’t going to wash up.
I go in the stall to do my business and you turn on the water and stand there, pretending to wash your hands. The water makes no splashing sound so I KNOW you are letting it run while you touch up your hair and makeup with your pee hands. You don’t even touch the paper towel dispenser, which is automatic, so I can fucking tell that you never touched the water. Unless you are some kind of super wizard that can dry your hands with thought or you have Back to the Future sleeves on that blouse of yours and you’ve blow dried your own self dry.
You are like the little kid of the corporate world. You run your toothbrush under water to appease your parents. You fake wash your hands to make others think you are poop-hand conscious, when in fact you are quite the opposite. You’re not sneaky. You didn’t fleece anyone into thinking you haven’t shit your digits.
I hope you enjoy eating your poop sandwich, your pee coffee and your bathroom-germed communal refrigerator.
Suck a dick, you fake hand washer. You aren’t fooling anyone.

I hate people, or why I will be arrested for assault

Dear assholes that stop in the middle of the sidewalk because there is no chance in the world anyone would ever be walking behind you and want to keep going forward like you should be doing. Don’t get pissed at me when I slam into the back of you. Trust me, I want to touch you even less than you want to touch me so don’t get so mad. If you didn’t want me to hip check you into the boards, you should not have come to a complete stop right the hell in front of me, mid stride.
And another thing: I am going to start plowing over people who walk and dick around on their phones. If you are walking at me, head down, texting or grindr’ing or tumblr’ing or just being awflr, I will not get out of your way. I will enjoy the moment in which you suddenly look up, startled because I am right in your face. I will relish scaring the shit out of you because you were so engrossed in your phone, that you couldn’t see where you were going, which was within punching distance.
AND another thing: to those who are so engrossed in their phones that they don’t realize they have come to a street and keep going into the street, no matter the traffic, or the bikes, or the trucks, or the sewer grates or 6 inches of water/dog piss/NYC spit/fluid mixture present at every curb in the city, I will not warn you any longer. NO more will I say, “Hey, look out!” Or, “Be careful!” You’ve lost your chance for my help and I will most likely giggle when I watch you get creamed by a bike messenger riding at Mach 12.

Love,
An NYC commuter with a vengeance.

Deadbeat Mom

I am sorry friends.  I have not been a loyal poster and I imagine, though very few people care, I owe an apology to at least one reader.

I will be better.

I will find time.

I will be funnier.

I will not put that in my nose.

...That last one was a reminder for me.  Thanks for your understanding.

But seriously, I am going to find time to pay attention to my site and post some more interesting things and have giveaways and bring the funny.

No kidding.

See you soon!