Making Best Friends Like a Pro-

Everybody needs friends. Some people are just naturals at making them, others not so much. I myself am a hit with all the people out there.

Everyone fucking loves me.

I haven't always been this great at making friends, but now that it's come to my attention that so many people struggle with it I decided to write a blog to help you out. You know, just let you know how professional friend-makers do it and shit. These are trade secrets so I should expect you share this with your new found friends so they can make more friends. You don't want people to think you're a jerk by keeping all these golden nuggets to yourself, do you? I didn't think so.

When meeting someone new, the first thing you should do if you want to be their friend is assert your dominance. You don't want them thinking they are better than you, or even that they're equal to you- that's just building the relationship on a lie. Make sure to compliment what they're wearing, or their hair, or weight (Oh that one's fucking gold. You can't go wrong if you use their weight.) but make sure to use a condescending tone. 

Extra points if you can compliment in a sweet tone, but make it demeaning at the same time.  

See example: "I see you've lost a bunch of weight! It's great to see you've come to terms with your insecurity and decided to do something about it. A few more pounds and you'll look decent!"

That's how you truly get off to a great start. Periodically use comments like this throughout your entire friendship for a meaningful, long-lasting relationship. 

Now that you've reeled your new best friend in- it's time to prove just how much they mean to you. Spend some quality time planning stuff to do with them. Make sure to alternate things that they want to do with things you want to do. Even if they're stupid ideas, which they probably are. Feel free to tell them how dumb their ideas are and how much you don't want to do them- you don't want to deceive them and make them think they have cool interests. Remember that part about building a relationship on a lie? Yeah. 

After making plans to do stuff a few weeks in advance, you should wait until 30 minutes before going out and call your new best friend to cancel your plans. People LOVE when you do that, it's a real eye-opener as to how much you care about them and their time. It's even better if you just don't show up without calling. This is great because you're sending them to that bar to meet you and when you don't show they have opportunities to meet other people. That way you're not being selfish and keeping them tied down. 

Don't be that fucking asshole that makes them always hang out with you and nobody else. That's just rude. 

 Make sure to have a really great excuse like, "I'm tired." or my personal favourite, "My boyfriend asked me to go out with him and I agreed so I won't be coming out with you." 

 It's even BETTER if you live with your boyfriend and always see him. 

By this point there's no way your new best friend and you aren't joined at the hip. You are what best friend is made of. 

By now I'm sure you've already addressed this, but it's great to talk about anyway- how to deal with your different views on controversial issues. 

You know I cannot express how important this is when dealing with your friends. If you do it wrong, you'll lose all your hard work! Everyone knows having 1000 friends on Facebook is the most important aspect in social media. Networking, networking, networking. 

First off, whenever a controversial subject comes up, demand to talk about it. If your friend tells you that they are uncomfortable talking about it, or just want to leave that subject alone, make sure to push anyway. You're helping them by making them learn to deal with sensitive subjects. There are two ways this scenario will go when your friends open up with you and discuss their views:

They agree with you: Great! You're done!

They disagree with you: Make them fucking see it your way.

There is no possible way in hell you can be friends with someone that thinks that abortion is okay, or that gay marriage should be legalized! Fuck that shit- you can't just let them walk around thinking those incorrect thoughts. None of your friends can have different views than you.

Let me just say how many times I was relieved to be told that I was wrong. Because there is only one way to see things, and only ONE right way to believe. It was such a great feeling to know that my friends loved me enough to force their correct beliefs on me instead of letting me walk around ignorant. Dodged that bullet. 

Friends don't let friends get ass raped by ignorance. 

Continue to force your ideas on them until they agree with you. Look up 500 biased sources and shove them in your friend's face and post them on their Facebook wall. If it's something serious like gay marriage, make sure to let them know that if that was legalized anyone could get married. Make sure they knew their mother could get married to her toaster and make illegitimate toast babies. Just tell them anything and everything to make them realize how wrong they are.

It doesn't fucking matter if you're lying!

Romney does it all the time. 

Whoa shit did I say that. 

 Sorry. No not really. But that's okay, because I'm too lazy to force you to see it my way- because I'm a bad friend.

 CONTRADICTORY BITCH.

Haters gonna hate.

 

Using these techniques you'll make so many friends you won't know what to do with them. 

 

How to Get Evicted: The New and Improved Way

Every one knows there are many fantastic ways to get yourself extricated from your place of living. Some are more effective than others, and tend to work at varying speeds. All in all, there are multiple paths to eviction.

I chose the pedophiliac child abuser method. 

It all started as I came home from a work get together at my manager's house. We had some fantastic dinner and then a fun game night, but after a long day at work and having to get up in the morning, I just wanted to go to bed. That's all I wanted.
Is that too much to ask?

Apparently the little assholes that live across the street think so. 

I went upstairs and after taking a shower and brushing my teeth it was about ten till 11 o'clock. I had to be up in about six hours so I figured how was an excellent time to crash out. I laid down and closed my eyes, at about that time I started hearing running steps outside my window. Along with the most annoying screams. 

They kinda sounded like a balloon that's being held with the opening stretched taut. 

"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!" 

In simple terms.

I'm a reasonable human being, I want to work things out with those who impose on my way of living. I mean I can't always have my way. I wanted to see what was going on- they could have been being hacked to bits by some mass murderer or something. I didn't want to miss out on that show. I wanted to make sure they were alright.

I poked my head out my window and saw two young children, a boy and a girl, running between the cars parked right outside my townhouse. Mine was included. Since there really was no reason for these two children to be doing this at eleven at night on a weekday, I let them know.

"Excuse me, could you two please quiet down a tad? I'm trying to sleep and I have to be up for work in a few hours. Your screaming is keeping me awake."

"Shut up, you're stupid!!!!" was my received response. 

The two shit heads continued to weave in and out of the cars, running behind one then making their way to run in front of another. All while screaming their lungs out. 

Challenge accepted.

I watched them weave around the cars and run around the complex one more time before walking downstairs and going outside. I climbed into my truck and turned off all the lights after shutting the door. 

I waited.

I listened.

There they are, running behind the car next to me.

Making their way to the front of my truck.

aaaaaaaaaand now.

I flashed the brights and laid on my horn right as they crossed in front of my headlights.

I got two reactions from the kids. The girl screamed and backed up and tripped into my garbage cans. The boy tried to make a run for it straight into the Suburban parked next to me. The two kids got up and ran crying back to their house across the street. I walked back into my house and went to bed.

I got up and went to work the next day all was well. I really enjoyed work, it was monotonous, as usual. When I got home I noticed a shitty hand written note taped to my door. I plucked it off and read,

"I'd apreciate if you would leave my kids alone. You are a bully. Where do you get off scaring kids anyway?"

Word for word, she spelled appreciate wrong, yes.

 I stared at the note for a while and thought, "What would Jesus do?"

Well Jesus would tell her what he felt of course, to ease her fear and end her suffering. 

I went inside and wrote down on an index card,

"Ma'am, I get off on a lot of things involving children- but scaring them isn't one."

Then I taped it to her door.

If I get evicted I'm blaming this.

Why Our Younger Generation is Losing

People spend thousands of hours and millions of dollars studying the various problems and hang ups of our younger generations. Why are they struggling so much? It's given quite the thought, and so many people know the answer but don't want to say it for fear of hurt feelings.

Here let me help you: They are struggling because we're handing them everything, except their asses. 
Don't get it? Here let me elaborate.

Have you been to a public school lately? Fuck I remember being in middle school, high school, and even some of elementary school. When I was in elementary school there was this thing called "Failing Grades." They occurred quite frequently when you couldn't get your shit together. Now there are no such things in many schools.

The concept of making kids accept the fact they suck isn't really used anymore. Instead they give the kids as many tries as they want, letting them redo the same paper 50 times to get that C. Or they just let them fly through the year without doing anything and the get a D.
D's for degrees! BITCHES.
What the fuck?

I understand the concept of letting them "try again to help them learn." but that is ridiculous. 
Your boss will never say, "Oh it's okay that you left half of our important statistics out of that quarterly report. Just do it again, it's alright." 
No- they aren't going to fucking say that, here's more a more realistic rendition:
"Hey, Jack, it seems you have fucked up the quarterly report for the second time in a row. I'm going to have to let you go."
Jack's boss doesn't care about Jack's feelings in the slightest. 

The real world doesn't care about satisfying your tickly-happy bits or stroking your ego. The real world is mean, and kids really just don't get that. My generation doesn't even understand that. They think it's all pickles and ponies and Wonder bread. A good hunk of my class didn't even graduate and many of them still live at home- not going to college, playing video games all day, complaining about how hard life is.

Go fuck yourselves, you whiny pricks.

For some reason many people I know felt like they'd get out of high school and would be handed a nice job, a great car, and a trophy wife/husband. No- that's now how it works. There are people out there that have worked their entire lives, trying to make their way up the chain, that still don't have the little things you take for granted.

Like food,
Shelter,
Clean water,
Education,
Freedom.

I should be a teacher, because then when a student turns in stupid shit to me, I'd get out my red pen and circle everything that sucks and clearly write:

This is shit.
Take this out.
What the fuck?
F- for "Fuck this paper."

Kudos to Mel, who is a great teacher and is still nice about it. 
 

Why I Hate Kids

So here we are, all gathered around at my blog, reading the cynical bullshit I once again have to say.
Did I mention how much we all love it?

So here's the thing: I hate kids.
As all you intelligent people that read the title of this blog noticed.


A lot of people ask me, "Well what's wrong with kids?"
What the fuck ISN'T wrong with kids? Really.

No, but seriously.
It's the parents, most likely.


Okay, so I've been told since square one that I will grow up and have a nice husband and kids. Maybe two or three kids and I'd make a great mother. I'll be living in some suburban neighborhood in a cookie-cutter house with a nice lawn and a decent vehicle. You know, I wouldn't mind all of that. Except the kid part. Fuck kids. 

Kids are noisy.
I'd be sitting there, trying to read my book and little Timmy would be in the corner going, "Mom...mom....MOM...MOOOOOOOOOOOM." and I'd be like, 

"What, Timmy? What the fuck could you possibly want that is more important than this book I'm trying to read? You better fucking be on fire when I look up after finishing this paragraph."

I'd look up and Timmy would most certainly NOT be on fire (much to my dismay) and instead he'd probably have pooped his pants or peed in his bed. Since that's all kids do. 

Cost money.
Breathe.
Make messes.
Eat.
Shit.

Then I'd tell Timmy to change out of his underwear, throw the poop filled ones away, and take a shower. 

Then, out of sheer defiance, Timmy would proceed to pull down his shorts and sit on the carpet. Dragging his ass along using nothing but his feet, he'd make a face not unlike a goat that has put its head through a fence and gotten stuck- and is now having its ass devoured by coyotes. 

Okay I don't know about that but I'm sure Timmy would do something I didn't like.


Kids are expensive.
Timmy would start school, and I'd get this huge fucking list of things I'd have to buy him to make sure his school experience is excellent.
Because we all know that meager wage they pay teachers really incites the fire inside them to provide excellent education to a room full of inconsiderate pricks.
We'd be at the store looking at the list and I'd say,
"What the fuck do you need a calculator for? You're in the FIRST GRADE. You have to do math that's like, 2 + 2 and shit. You don't need a fucking calculator. You also don't need pens. You need pencils, as you're going to be making a lot of mistakes. Pen is permanent, Timmy, just like when I didn't use a condom. That shit in life is permanent, Timmy, life doesn't come with an eraser...LIKE PENCILS."

Timmy and I would continue shopping and it's likely Timmy would spot something he really wanted, a toy car, perhaps. 

"MOM CAN I HAVE THIS?" would be the first fucking question out of his mouth. 

No, you can't have that, Timmy. 

"BUT I WANT IT! WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!" 
 This is when I would kindly remind Timmy that we're inside the store, and that there are other patrons shopping, he should be quiet. Seeing as how that never works, Timmy would continue screaming for a good two minutes while I stared at him. 

Finally, I would kneel down so that we were eye to eye...

"Timmy, mommy loves you very much. She wishes she could give you everything you wanted, but there is no way that my 12 dollar-an-hour job could pay for all the frivolous things you desire. I think it's great that you have such high expectations out of life...but you just can't have this for now, maybe next time, okay?"
Of course, being logical with a child isn't going to work...soooo-

 "BUT I WANT IT! WAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!! I HATE YOU!" 

I would look at him and gently take the car from his tiny hands and wipe the tears from his eyes. I would smile and start to put the car into the cart with the rest of his stuff. Of course, Timmy's eyes would brighten and that's when

I'd fucking huck the car across the store and then continue pushing my cart.

I would proceed to buy him pencils and some notepads. So two out of the list of about 42 things I was supposed to buy my damn kid. I would send him to school the next day with his two items.

After school I would promptly receive a letter from his teacher,

"Dear Mrs. Smith,
I noticed today that Timmy did not have a pencil box. It is imperative that all students have a pencil box, as without proper containment, the writing utensils they have get unruly inside their desks. I appreciate your cooperation in this matter, and I expect that Timmy will have a pencil box by tomorrow morning.

Best wishes,
Mrs. Doodlebopper."


In order to compensate for my neglect to buy Timmy a pencil box, I'd send him to school the next day with a whiskey bottle full of his pencils. 
Don't fucking drop that bottle Timmy, it's my favorite.


Kids break shit.
I'd be in the kitchen washing the dishes, when I'd hear a huge crash and I'd walk briskly into the front room to find the 15" television, the largest one I could buy, broken on the fake linoleum. Of course, there'd magically be no Timmy to be seen.

Primal Hunting Mode Activated.

I'd walk up the stairs looking for Timmy, saying lies like, "Timmy, where are you? Mommy just wants to make sure you're okay." and "Timmy, I won't be angry, just come out here." we all know that these things are lies, because our parents used them on us.
Timmy doesn't know that yet, because he's fresh-out-of-the-vag.

After finding Timmy cowering under his bed at the very back near the wall, I'd coo softly for him to come out from under the bed. He'd of course, say no. So I'd do what any other loving mother would do. 

I'd climb on the bed and threaten to step on where he's hiding, and when he still screamed, "NO!!!!" I'd start putting pressure on that spot until he crawled out from under the bed. 
Like that's normal, right?

At that point we'd have a nice long conversation about why he's an asshole for kicking over the television when I only bought it so he could watch Mr. Rogers, who obviously isn't teaching him anything as he calls our next door neighbor names, and that definitely makes it "Not so great to be our neighbor."

Kids don't fucking listen.
Prime example is when I was at work the other day, we have this kid-based summer camp where they practically take an entire elementary school and put them in the hands of college students. My counselor was like, "This sounds like a great idea for you!" I was like, "Bitch please." I was on break, and decided that right then was a good time to go pee, seeing as though I had to go and I was on break...
Logic I say.
Well I went in there and there were these four little girls playing around in the bathroom not even using the facility. They were playing with the automatic soap dispensers and paper towel dispensers. I honestly less than gave a fuck so I walked in a stall and sat down. Two seconds into my peeing experience I had the joy of one little fucker looking under the stall door at me. 

I'm like, "Yeah? Excuse me."

She goes, "Do you know where my friends are?" not even aware that maybe I'm uncomfortable with some strange little girl watching me pee. I just gave her a look like, "Really?" 

"No I don't, can you please go away now? What you're doing is extremely rude."

She keeps staring at me, and asks again where her friends are, because she really needs to find them. If I could have kicked her in the face I would have. I said, "They all left you while you were busy watching me relieve myself." She gasped and ran out, I heard her scream,

"YOU GUYS!! AHHHHHHHWAAAAAAAH!"
I hoped she fell down while running.  

Kids take the fun out of life.
I'd be changing Timmy's clothes after his bath, and my friend Seanna would call, being like,

"So Mel, Jenn, Kala, and I are going to the bar, wanna go?"  
In my head I'd be like, oh fuck yeah. 
In reality there's no way I could go because I don't have a baby sitter to watch Timmy, and it's like nine at night so it's not like I can just whip one out of nowhere. 

I could try the "hide Timmy under my shirt like he's unborn" trick but then they wouldn't serve me beer anyway. 

FUCK IT.

I'd end up going to jail for child endangerment after telling Timmy to get the toast out of the toaster using a fork, and telling him to make sure the toaster was plugged in.

I'd end up going to jail for child endangerment after telling Timmy, "Let's play speed bump!"  

Timmy would end up in a foster home after I'd told him we're playing hide and seek in the mall, and then leaving him there.

All this being said...

All respect to mothers out there.
I could never be one.  
That requires more effort than I'm willing to put forward. 

People tell me, "Oh one day you'll change your mind, you'll want kids."

I say, "Yeah, that's what my crazy ex said too, 'Oh you'll change your mind, you'll want this spork in your eye.'"

Rednecks and Couches

DISCLAIMER:  
I'm gonna rag on a redneck, and a couch. If you happen to love rednecks (or really, stereotypical rednecks) and couches, this blog may not be for you.

So it all started with a Facebook post, by my favourite local animal rescue, Heartland Humane Society. I love that place, I go volunteer and play with the puppies and donate dog food when I have money to buy it, and generally I just support and love everything they do. They are a great cause.

Speaking of, if you happen to love puppies, kittens, badgers, gerbils, turkeys, rabbits, fish, mice, rats, hamsters, guinea pigs, space ships, or breathing- please donate here: Heartland Humane

Okay, now that I'm done whoring myself out for puppies, back to my story.

This lovely organization and I are friends on Facebook, and they posted this:

Heartland Humane Society
Friday
Heartland is looking for a gently used love seat or small sofa (no more than 6 feet long) for our newly remodeled staff lounge. We would love if it is of a material that is easy to clean. Your donation is 100% tax deductable...

Hot DAMN I can do that! I want to help! Me! 

Little did I know my whimsicle fuckery reflex when it comes to puppies could and would put me into an awkward situation. I figured it was worth it, I'd seen some nice loveseats on Craigslist, many free, and I had a pick up truck.
What could go wrong? :D !

I looked on Craigslist and found a really nice one and I called the people asking if they still had it. They did, and they really wanted it gone, so I told them I'd come pick it up today if they'd let me. They were ecstatic, it was apparently on their porch because they had gotten a new one. I called Heartland and let them know I had one and was bringing it to them. They were also really excited- this seemed to be really nice for everyone!

 I picked up my friend Fari and we were off, driving to their house to pick up this couch. We followed the directions the couple had given us to get to their house. Which were really great, by the way.

Go past the hospital, turn left and then we're in a mobile community.

   Okay, fucktards- unless that mobile community is RIGHT off the fucking highway, and you have a huge flashing sign that says,
COUCH IS HERE!!!

Those are SHITTY directions, and I will not find you.  

 I kindly asked for a street name, and they gave me one and we were better off. 

I drove to the street and turned off and followed it quite a ways (thinking maybe we were wrong because he made it sound like we were going to drive through their trailer as soon as we turned off). After we got to a lumber yard, I saw a garage sale sign. He had said something about garage signs so I turned there. We went up and viola..

TRAILER PARK!

 

We were instructed to text him when we got to the park, so I had Fari text him and say we were in the park, and ask him where to go.
2 minutes: No response.
5 minutes: No response.
8 minutes: No response.
10 minutes: There's more signs, let's just go to that mobile home.
20 minutes: Sitting outside his fucking place with no response.

 His child was in the front yard, playing on the swingset and noticed we were parked outside calling their father. She came over and said, "Are you here to get the couch?" and I politely said yes. I then asked her if her parents were home. She said yes then went back to playing. I heard more voices...so I walked closer to the fence.

1...2.....3....6?
What the fuck what are they running a child smuggling ring? 

 

After two unsuccessful calls to their parents and feeling tired of standing around, I asked one of the children if they could perhaps get their father for me. I would have just gone and knocked on the door, but I would have had to wade through the four feet of trash that they had lying in front of their house. 

I got lost on the way to the dump the other day, I just should have come here and thrown the mattress in their yard. They wouldn't have noticed.

 

 Finally I got fed up with standing there listening to them scream and laugh and generally be annoying as fuck and walked through the gate to find a dog. 

 

The dog looked up and started barking and growling wildly.
It charged after me, and I was so scared I ran back through the gate and it followed me, barking loudly. I screamed and yelled to Fari to get back in the truck. The dog was gaining on me, snarling and barking.
I was pretty sure that fucker was going to get me. He jumped and knocked me over and started biting my shoulder. I screamed and punched him in the face repeatedly trying to get away...

 

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LOLZ JK!

The dog actually looked like this, and did nothing but pee on the porch and lick my hands in excitement.

  I knocked on the door and a big guy with a hairy face and wife-beater came out to greet me.

 

"Are you here to get the couch?"  

No, actually I'm here to give you free sex, wash your dishes, and polish your guns. Of course I'm here to get the couch you dipshit, answer your fucking phone!

"Well it's over here." 

Thanks I can see that, could you please get the three tons of trash off of it? That wasn't in the picture you posted, and I don't really want it.

"Do you want help getting it out?" 

Actually that'd be great, think you could grab an end?

 

He walked down the stairs and stood at the bottom, staring at Fari and I. This signaled to me that his help was actually going to be standing there and watching. That really helps I've heard, really motivates you. I grabbed one end and Fari grabbed the other. It was only moderately heavy, but it was also awkward and there was nowhere to grab a hold of it. We struggled to get it off the ground, and then walked towards the stairs. 

This is where we realized, OH HEY- THE COUCH DOESN'T FIT BETWEEN THE TRAILER AND THE GARAGE THING THAT'S MAYBE FOUR FEET AWAY FROM IT! We attempted to maneuver it to get it down the stairs and Fari almost dropped her end, and I almost dropped mine from the weight shift.  

All the while, wife-beater over there stood around watching us like we were being tested.

"IF YOU CAN'T LIFT IT AND MANEUVER IT DOWN THE STAIRS, YOU CAN'T HAVE MY COUCH, OR THE DIRTY DIAPERS THAT ARE HIDING INSIDE THE CUSHIONS."

He kept watching us struggle and then he decided to actually take action...."Turn it." he says. 

Well thank you shit head, we're trying but conveniently it hasn't worked any way we've tried to turn it so maybe you should SHOW us.

"No, turn it." he says.

OH MY GOD, FUCKING GENIUS! I SHOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT! God I'm an idiot. Good thing we're not struggling to hold onto this couch, or that'd be really hard.

After wife-beater was done picking his butt he decided to help. He came over and took Fari's end, and he and I flipped the couch over and got it down the stairs. He then took the couch away from me and turned it over on the ground. I'm so glad, because it didn't have enough shit on it- it really needed to be rolled in the dirt. He rolled it over two times before picking it up. He walked three steps then dropped it on the ground. I was just staring at him. What the fuck was he doing?

He then looked over at Fari and said, "Well? You gonna grab it 'er what?" and she ran and grabbed the end and they carried it to the truck. He shoved it in the back and as he did he said, "Now if you find one million dollars stashed in the cushions of this, make sure to call me." 

 

I was really tempted to say, "It's more likely we'll find a dead cat or a bag of feces but I'll spare you and just throw it away instead of calling- you obviously don't know how to answer your cell anyway. Hint: it's the green button, that looks like A PHONE." 

 

I walked back to his wife, who had just come outside and was heavily pregnant with their 18th child, and their probably two year old son.  I handed her the 10 dollars for the couch and thanked her and walked back to the truck. She was really sweet, and very pretty, I wasn't sure why she enjoyed living in squalor, maybe she likes the smell of poop. I hear that's a popular fetish.

 

Fari and I drove away with the couch and dropped it off at the Humane Society, which was overjoyed to have it. The couch itself didn't have that nasty poo smell, but the area around the trailer sure did.

 

I must defend his actions though, it was really thoughtful of him to think of the feminist agenda. He obviously thought Fari and I were hardcore feminists, and that if he helped us we would be offended because it would then be apparent he thought we "Were just weak women with no backbone that can't lift a couch and should be in the kitchen making him a sandwich." I know he was just making sure we knew he didn't think that...

 

Well, everything but the sandwich part.