Two Amigos Suck Each Other's Egos.

Former Presidents George W. Bush and Bill Clinton shared the stage in Toronto, Canada yesterday for the first time ever and neither disagreed about anything on most subjects except for one; IRAQ. Clinton told spectators (who shelled out $200 to witness the event) that U.N. inspectors needed more time for the search performed in Afghanistan looking for weapons of mass destruction to which Bush replied disagreeably, "I don't buy the premise that our attention was diverted." Apparently, that was about as heated as it got. Later, Bush laughed about how his father (former President George H.W. Bush) and Clinton have spent a considerable amount of time together on stage according to his mother Barbara who says "President Clinton and Father share the stage together so much, he's like a son to her." Bush then said, "So brother, it's good to see you."

Despite the overall friendly tone set by the two former Presidents, protesters showed their displeasure for ex-President Bush. Oh well dubelya, ya can't please'em all right?

Here's my highlighted version of how the "Conversation with Presidents George W. Bush and Bill Clinton" went down.

{click on image to enlarge}

Politics are for the birds and politicians are just Hollywood rejects. This includes ex-Presidents.
Cheers,

My Guilty Conscience

Well folks, I guess it's time to pick up more dumbells again and less beer bottles.

I recently was standing in line at the grocery store feeling good about myself when I looked down and saw a muscle magazine staring me in the gut. Now ordinarily this would not bother me, but I've been putting off working out now since my wife got pregnant (about a year and a half ago; first wives have a gestation period of 18 months). In fact, for awhile we had an ongoing contest to see who needed to wear stretchy pants first. Either way I lose... ...Shit.

I picked up the magazine and when I got home I started to read it whilst I dropped off some pooper-troopers into the porcelain abyss. I have to admit, nothing has changed much in the industry after all this time. Take this pill, eat this organic shit, lift the weights this way, blah, blah, blah...
Here's the mag I picked up:

Guess It's kinda lost it's appeal to me.
Have a great weekend Shamers!
Cheers,

Let's play a little game...

Click on the map and see if you can guess which state of the US
I reside in?


Hint: It's the one covered in shit Gregoire. Keep up the good work. Guess we're not so "green" after all.


Cheers,

You say potato, I say Patty the man-eating Nazi.

For those of you who don't know or recognize Patty Stanger of Bravo's Millionaire Matchmaker from her picture below, (click on image for a closer view) you're not missing out on a damn thing. Really. You're better off for it. This woMan eats wealthy men and their money for a living. Wait, no... ... she "matches" wealthy men up with gold-digging whores. Yep, that's right. Patty-Wacky Stanger actually believes she's helping these men by finding a future ex-companion for them who's willing to someday bleed their bank accounts dry like Paul McCartney's One-legged Ex-wife, Heather Mills.
Which leads me to my next question: why does this matchmaking, man-eating Nazi even have a job doing this? Who gives a shit about the rich in these times? Wouldn't her "talent" be better used to help find the unfortunate people with Turrets Syndrome hook up with other mates of the same disease? Or what if she helped "little people" find other tiny-tike love? How could that be wrong?

She-Devil has even written a book called “Become Your Own Matchmaker: 8 Easy Steps for Attracting Your Perfect Mate.” That's amazing considering she's single and no man wants to wed this high octane bitch. Patty, why would any man with half a brain want you? You're screwing it up for them by telling all of our secrets damn it! If you're a matchmaker, than I'm a fortune teller and I predict your ass is going to be wrinkled, alone and reading one of your newly published line of self help books starting with "How to lose the attraction of the entire opposite sex forever because you're a dumb bitch."

Oh well, I think she and Mrs. Potato Head have a few things in common. For instance, they both like to show off their old melons and they both like to keep their men down. This one's for you Cupid's c@#$! Mom told me NEVER to say that word, so I won't even type it Mom :)

Cheers,
P.S. Did someone forget to tell her that her face looks like ?
Because DAMN...

Happy Mother's Day!

To all the mothers out there who need a whole damn day to yourselves,









And to the women in my life who put up with my shit, thank you and I love you.

Cheers,

Because everyone has a HOT sauce story.

So my brother (Uncle Dan) and I try this hot sauce I bought from the World Market store awhile back. We just wanted to kick up my wife's great, but sometimes bland omelette breakfast she makes for me (us) on Sunday mornings. Which kind of pisses me off because my brother often borrows my wife for stuff like that. I mean, he did give her back though. It's not like that neighbor of mine who borrows my tools and "forgets" to return them! Anyways...

So we're trying one of those Blair's hot sauces (I think it was that Super Ultra Mega After Death But Before You Go to Hell one or something?) and it almost killed my brother. This story reminds me of Snow White when she ate that apple and fell asleep. Only instead of an apple, it was hot sauce and instead of falling asleep, it was you just bleed out your ass the next day.

I told him it was "mildly hot" and got him to pour about a quarter of the bottle on his eggs before he took a small, but never the less effective, bite. ONLY there was no anticipation or delay with this sauce. That shit started to burn his eyes before it even got to his face hole! Then he immediately turned red, gagged and started screaming obscenities for five minutes. He then proceeded to to drink everything we had to try and neutralize the pain (as he began to slowly forget who he was and what the hell just happened). In an attempt to save the rest of his breakfast, he then washed the remaining sauce from his rubber omelette.

After he finally came to, he just looked at me and said: "What the fuck is that shit called anyway? You're Gonna Die Bitch or somethin'?" and I say: "Yea, something like that."

So in memory of mine and Uncle Dan's hot sauce incident, I designed a bottle of what I think You're Gonna Die Bitch Hot Sauce would look like. For whatever reason, I didn't think of a flaming skull or the grim reaper or anything like that. Instead I kept thinking of something even more terrifying...


Barney engulfed in flames and saying he's "sorry" came to mind.

Here's to hot sauces and bloody a-holes!

Cheers,