Esophagogastroduodenoscopy

2007-07-10T12:07:00.000-07:00

Hey! I gotta do work! No time for blogging! I will update soon I promise! Work work work! In the meantime, check out these links!

http://www.evanjacobs.blogspot.com/

Who the hell is that guy? It's not me, that's for damn sure. Make sure he is aware of my wrath!

Here's a nice definition:

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=alaskan+pipeline

Now I know what to call that thing I do!

Oh my god! I didn't update my blog! Today isn't opposite day.

2007-05-19T20:29:00.000-07:00

Actually, I did update my blog, and today really isn't opposite day.

Two things for this blog entry. Nothing really about me. On Paris “Filthy Whore” Hilton going to the slammer.

Good riddance, I say. Some people say it was too harsh a crime. Well, here’s what we have. She had her licensed revoked for driving drunk, which was probably lenient in the first place, and then she was caught driving without a license three times! And, finally, on the third time, they decided to lock her ass up. Now, usually, this sentence can be given with parole, or hopes of leaving early for good behavior, but the judge, my hero wanted none of that. He wanted her to serve the whole goddamned thing. And I say, thank Christ we finally have someone who will stand up and fight for what is right: locking up this spoiled, whining cunt. She has been able to get away with whatever she wanted for so long, and I’m not even talking about crimes here, just run-of-the-mill being a dick to people. Well, let’s see how much of a dick she’s being after getting sodomized by a few horny lesbian fists. Eh Paris? You ready for that? No night vision cameras here! Of course, you probably won’t to be able to see what they’re doing to you anyway. And, after she gets out of prison, I hope she gets terminal cancer. That way, we won’t have to put up with her or people who like her, and her final days will be full of her regrets that she wasted her life being a vapid semen-chugging bimbo. And, if you don’t agree with me, you should take a long walk off a short pier. Then, swim back to shore and kill yourself.

On being a fat fuck.

For the full article and all the quotes I used, go to: http://www.nytimes.com/2007/05/08/health/08fat.html

So the New York times recently had a scientific article about the genetics behind weight gain. It was really interesting. I wonder if they started off with a study…

“The study was rigorous and demanding. It began with an agonizing four weeks of a maintenance diet that assessed the subjects’ metabolism and caloric needs. Then the diet began. The only food permitted was a liquid formula providing 600 calories a day, a regimen that guaranteed they would lose weight. Finally, the subjects spent another four weeks on a diet that maintained them at their new weights, 100 pounds lower than their initial weights, on average.”

So when they were thin, they were happy, right? They didn’t start going completely fucking nuts, did they?

“The Rockefeller subjects also had a psychiatric syndrome, called semi-starvation neurosis, which had been noticed before in people of normal weight who had been starved. They dreamed of food, they fantasized about food or about breaking their diet. They were anxious and depressed; some had thoughts of suicide. They secreted food in their rooms. And they binged.”

But at least none of them got fat again, right?

“Dr. Hirsch [the conductor of the study] says, ‘they all regained.’”

But at least some of them stayed thin, right?

“There were a very few who did not get fat again,”

Sweet!

“but they made staying thin their life’s work, becoming Weight Watchers lecturers, for example, and, always, counting calories and maintaining themselves in a permanent state of starvation.”

Oh fuck my ass and call me a bitch! Jesus Christ! Whatever happened to metabolism? We all know that skinny people have higher metabolisms, so the skinnier you get, the higher your metabolism gets, right? Right?

“Before the diet began, the fat subjects’ metabolism was normal — the number of calories burned per square meter of body surface was no different from that of people who had never been fat. But when they lost weight, they were burning as much as 24 percent fewer calories per square meter of their surface area than the calories consumed by those who were naturally thin.”

Holy fuck that’s surprising! So surprising I think a surprising conclusion has to be reached!

“And that led them to a surprising conclusion: fat people who lost large amounts of weight might look like someone who was never fat, but they were very different. In fact, by every metabolic measurement, they seemed like people who were starving.”

Ok, so getting fat is bad. Once you get fat, you can’t get thin again. Got it. Never get fat. Sweet. Thank god there is no other study that refutes that theory.

“It began with studies that were the inspiration of Dr. Ethan Sims at the University of Vermont, who asked what would happen if thin people who had never had a weight problem deliberately got fat.”

Are you serious?

“His subjects were prisoners at a nearby state prison who volunteered to gain weight. With great difficulty, they succeeded, increasing their weight by 20 percent to 25 percent. But it took them four to six months, eating as much as they could every day. Some consumed 10,000 calories a day, an amount so incredible that it would be hard to believe, were it not for the fact that there were attendants present at each meal who dutifully recorded everything the men ate.

Once the men were fat, their metabolisms increased by 50 percent. They needed more than 2,700 calories per square meter of their body surface to stay fat but needed just 1,800 calories per square meter to maintain their normal weight.

When the study ended, the prisoners had no trouble losing weight. Within months, they were back to normal and effortlessly stayed there.”

Those lucky pieces of shit! But wait, New York Times, what are the implications of this? Are they even clear?

“The implications were clear. There is a reason that fat people cannot stay thin after they diet and that thin people cannot stay fat when they force themselves to gain weight. The body’s metabolism speeds up or slows down to keep weight within a narrow range. Gain weight and the metabolism can as much as double; lose weight and it can slow to half its original speed.”

Fuck! What am I going to do? Wait, there’s more? They did another goddamned study?

“Dr. Stunkard ended up with 540 adults whose average age was 40. They had been adopted when they were very young — 55 percent had been adopted in the first month of life and 90 percent were adopted in the first year of life. His conclusions, published in The New England Journal of Medicine in 1986, were unequivocal. The adoptees were as fat as their biological parents, and how fat they were had no relation to how fat their adoptive parents were.”

So you’re saying that if my adoptive parents were Kate Moss and a Tree Branch (who has been rumored to be canoodling with her), and my real parents were fat bags of shit, I would end up being a fat bag of shit no matter how much wheat grass they starved me on or how much coke they shoved up my nose? But that’s just one study. How can you say that after only one study? I mean, there aren’t any other—

“A few years later, in 1990, Dr. Stunkard published another study in The New England Journal of Medicine, using another classic method of geneticists: investigating twins. This time, he used the Swedish Twin Registry, studying its 93 pairs of identical twins who were reared apart, 154 pairs of identical twins who were reared together, 218 pairs of fraternal twins who were reared apart, and 208 pairs of fraternal twins who were reared together.

The identical twins had nearly identical body mass indexes, whether they had been reared apart or together. There was more variation in the body mass indexes of the fraternal twins, who, like any siblings, share some, but not all, genes.

The researchers concluded that 70 percent of the variation in peoples’ weights may be accounted for by inheritance, a figure that means that weight is more strongly inherited than nearly any other condition, including mental illness, breast cancer or heart disease.”

—studies. Damnit! I guess I am completely helpless when it comes to controlling my weight.

“The results did not mean that people are completely helpless to control their weight, Dr. Stunkard said. But, he said, it did mean that those who tend to be fat will have to constantly battle their genetic inheritance if they want to reach and maintain a significantly lower weight.”

Well, that sucks. At least you guys didn’t draw out any conclusions from this. Wait! No! No more quotes! No more!

“The findings also provided evidence for a phenomenon that scientists like Dr. Hirsch and Dr. Leibel were certain was true — each person has a comfortable weight range to which the body gravitates. The range might span 10 or 20 pounds: someone might be able to weigh 120 to 140 pounds without too much effort. Going much above or much below the natural weight range is difficult, however; the body resists by increasing or decreasing the appetite and changing the metabolism to push the weight back to the range it seeks.”

But, there might be a saving grace! A few days later, the New York Times added a correction to this article. Come on, big money, big money, big money!

“An article in Science Times on Tuesday about the role of genes in weight gain misstated the publication date for an article in the journal Science describing the biological controls over body weight. The article was published in 2003, not 2000.”

Fine! Fine! Ugh. Now, for my take:

There are a few problems with the conclusions from the studies done here.

First of all, given that genetics determins seventy percent of weight problems, should there be a wide-spread obesity epidemic? Shouldn’t there be the same amount of fat people per thin people now that there ever were? Of course, this would only affect people’s weights on a generational scale, which might be more sensitive to diet.

Second of all, what about muscle mass? A guy who weighs 230 pounds of pure fat vs a guy of the same height who works out all the time and weighs 230 pounds of pure fat and pure muscle is going to have a different metabolism than the first guy. What about that, New York Times? Eh? What about that?

Well, either way, I guess I should just keep dieting and doing what I’m doing. Still, it is a disheartening study. Will I ever be able to really be? I already figured that I am going to have to watch my weight for the rest of my life, so what does this change, exactly? I guess nothing. I will still diet and workout ,like a maniac. But now, the little voice in the back of my head will be even louder. The little voice that echoes what Joe Powers told me when I showed him this article:

“Sweet. I guess you were just meant to be a fat fucking piece of worthless shit.” – Joe Powers

Live in peace, Evanites!

Holy Shit, I Updated My Blog Again!

2007-04-20T21:22:00.000-07:00

Finally, a goddamned blog update.

Hey everyone! So this is finally it. After days and days of starts and stops on entries, I’m just going to write one to tell you what’s going on, and I don’t care whether or not it’s funny, but at least it’s good to get it out there. You know what I mean? Well, do you? Hello? Is anybody there? Why won’t you answer me? Oh god. This is it. I’m the only one left, aren’t I? I’m the only human being left on earth! The only one! I better start masturbating to repopulate the globe! But no, wait, the others would want what I have. I can’t let them have it. No. I can’t masturbate. I need to castrate! That’s it, I’m doing it! Here it goes! Ow. Ow. Ow! Ow! OW! OWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOWOW! Ugh. Good, that’s over. No more balls. Oh wait, I’m in a room at work with other people. Damnit, I did it again!

First, let’s start with the gay man in the dyke bar: that goddamned mass-murder:

Don’t worry, I’m not going to joke about this stuff. It really is a horrible situation. It’s just so strange, that people like BTK or Charles Manson spend their whole lives killing this amount of people, and one asshole just does it in two hours. I don’t get it. Anyway, here are some thoughts.

Some people feel bad for this kid. Let me just say this about Seung-Hui Cho: fuck him. Fuck him right in his ass. I don’t care what he went through, fuck him. Other people are depressed also, and they don’t do this shit. I have no sympathy for this asshole, and based on what I’ve heard, teachers and other students tried to reach out to him. Even in high-school he was only teased minimally, probably much less than I was. What a dick. That being said, he was a troubled, clearly had untreated mental illness, and felt victimized himself. He was still a selfish prick, but to a certain extent, his own story just adds to the tragedy.

Also, it doesn’t matter that he is from South Korea, and I wish that people would stop mentioning it. The only strange thing is that school shootings and mass murders in America are committed by a predominantly white crowd, and an Asian doing this is virtually, if not actually, unheard of. However, once you start saying “he’s Korean! He’s Korean!” you’re just giving a target for the dumbasses in America to hate. And I love Koreans, so I wish people would just forget about it. He’s been in America since he was eight.

As for the school’s response, yeah, they were probably too late in responding, but then again, you need to weigh the options of causing a panic vs. protecting people. Because, if they had just sent out announcements over the loudspeaker, there may have been a panic, there may have been people running through the quads, and maybe Seung would have shot more people. Maybe not. Of course, they did have a double homicide on campus with no suspect, and they didn’t do anything. Furthermore, there was a convict a few months earlier near the campus and they completely shut down the whole thing. But, the bottom line is that they weren’t trying to have anyone get hurt, they were just trying to go about the matter in a way that was the best and smartest, and were probably overwhelmed by the scope of a double homicide in the first place. I’m sure they should have done more, but whatever it is, in hindsight it’s easy to say what they should have done, and it is probably important to have protocols for situations like this, but people must understand that the university did not shoot those students.

Finally, as for gun control laws, there are a few things going on here. First of all, I hate guns, I think they should be very hard to get and very regulated. Of course, I don’t want King George knocking down my door and putting a pistol in my face without any way to protect myself. I do believe that giving the population guns is a surefire way to protect against a militaristic state. That being said, I don’t think gun laws were the problem here. The students in the classrooms were not all wishing they had guns on them, but were forbidden by the university. If guns were as easy to get as say, iPods, I don’t think that even one more student would have had a gun on them. Second of all, Seung, got the guns legally. Don’t forget that. And, if he hadn’t, he would have found a way. When you want to kill a bunch of people that badly and are planning it carefully, not much can stop you from doing it. Third of all, he did it with pistols, not semi-automatic guns, so much of the arguments for gun control are thrown out the window. Seung was a man on a mission, and there was very little that the government could do, short of actually arresting him.

I have been reading about it and thinking about the victims and how they felt, especially during the actual rampage, pretty much non-stop since it happened. I hate being all mushy like this, but my heart truly does go out to them. They were human beings like the rest of us, and they all had stories, futures, loved ones, and dreams. Even Seung was a human being, and had all those same things. Perhaps he will not be awarded a posthumous degree, but it is still sad that he had to add another body to the massacre.

You might want to check out this stuff, because I read it too. The first one is a reconstruction of the events of the day:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/18/AR2007041802824.html?hpid=topnews

http://www.vt.edu/

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Virginia_Tech_massacre

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/americas/6564075.stm

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/18143312/

http://virginiatechvictim.com/

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/04/20/AR2007042000185.html?hpid=topnews

Anyway, it’s a very sad thing and I am trying my hardest not to joke about it. But, after all, I am a comedian.

Shits:

So, I was just in the bathroom. Actually, I was in the bathroom like an hour ago, and then I came back and wrote about it and then my stupid fucking computer shut off and I lost everything I wrote about it and I am unbelievable pissed off about it, because I lagged in saving every two minutes, even though I usually do just that. Actually, this paragraph, except for this sentence, was written yesterday, but I am too much of a lazy fuck to post a blog. Actually, this paragraph, except for this sentence and the last sentence, was written two days ago, and the previous sentence was written yesterday, but I am way too much of a lazy fuck to post my goddamned blog. Fuck! Anyway, I’m sitting in the bathroom, in the farthest stall over of the four stalls—the one closest to the wall—with the other three stalls empty. So, I’m sitting there, minding my own poop-business, when some douche-bag decides to sit right next to me and do his thing, instead of picking one of the other stalls like any sane person would do. Listen, you goddamned moron, when you are in that situation, you put at least a stall between you and the other guy, ok? I don’t need a shit buddy, all right? I don’t need to be looking at your dumbass shoes while you prove to me how you aren’t shy to be crapping right next to another man. Well I am, and I don’t appreciate you bathroom raping me like that.

Finally, my life!

Here we go.

Graducal Schools:

Dear Evanites, I regret to inform you that I have not been accepted for the Fall 2007 Creative Writing program at any of the schools—except for fucking CCNY! And LIU! And maybe Fordham, but they haven’t gotten back to me yet. And, as I said before, I was wait listed at The New School, so they might let me in eventually as well. Sweet Jesus’ Huge Hairy Balls, thank you! I am so grateful! I’m going to grad school! And CCNY has a good program! That’s right! Eat that up, all the schools who didn’t accept me! CCNY believed in me. CCNY saw the potential I had. CCNY wants me to learn, not to have already accomplished! So, I’m not sure which school I want to go to yet, but I am leaning toward CCNY as heavily as I can, much in the way that Michael Jackson leans in the “Smooth Criminal” video. Now, if I could only learn to read and write, I’d be all set. I’ll keep you updated, ok? OK?

Herby-snerbies!

I did it. Last Monday was the last day of habitual smoking for me ever. It may not be the last time I smoke, but it was definitely the last time for at least three months, which is the time it takes to get over an addiction. I will probably have to smoke at my friend’s bachelor party. But I might not. And even if I do, I am not going to be doing it every day. It would be a one time thing every now and then. The bottom line is that I am never going to buy it again, which leaves me more disposable income. You know what that means: whores! Anyway, this means that I have quit basically everything except for drinking, and I do that rarely. Just once every fifteen minutes. As for the weedies, so far, I’m feeling great, and I don’t quite hate everybody yet. But, if last time I quit is any indication, about three weeks from now I will probably be slightly irritable. But for now, I’m fine. So, shut the fuck up!

Little Glasses!

I did it. I got soft contact lenses, which I never thought I could have. I’m even wearing them right now. I think they make me look gay. I think they gave me women’s contacts by accident. After all, they’re called Accuvulvas. The last time I had contacts was ten years ago, and they were RGP contacts. In case you don’t know what that is (and are therefore dumb, because everyone knows what that is), those are Rigid Gas Permeable lenses, otherwise known as shards of glass you are sticking right in your fucking eye. These soft ones are much more comfortable, and now I don’t have to worry about getting cum on my glasses anymore! By the way, I now refer to my glasses as my “Big Contacts.”

New Dokka!

So I’ve recently been going to see a new psychiatrist/shrink/quack. He’s been doing a nice job psychoanalyzing me and giving me new meds, like Cymbalta. He helped inspire me to quit the herbos. I like him a lot, especially because he’s kind of a nutcase himself. I guess it takes one to know one. I hope he doesn’t read this, but I am going to give him the web address. Anyway, he’s a nice guy. A real nigga.

Comedy!

Still doing it, still working on it, still bombing sometimes, still killing other times, still not moving forward that much, so stop fucking asking!

iPod!

I have a fucking iPod now that works wonders! I love it I love it I love it! Did I mention I love it? So stop fucking asking!

Job!

I’m fucking permanent now! Holy fucking horseshit! That’s why I haven’t been posting my blog though. They look at my internet and see what websites I’m going to, and I, for some reason, think that this blog would be inappropriate.

Girlfriend!

She hasn't figured out that I'm a loser yet, so she's still around! Yay! I love her I love her I lover her! She's the bestest and the biggest boobest!

For Christ's Sake, Enough Already!

I think that’s enough for today and for the last few days. So, enjoy it, you douchebags!

Seacrest Out

The Blog is back! It fucking happened!

2007-04-04T23:11:00.000-07:00

Hey Guys! So this will be the first new entry in the new blog. I’ve gotten backed up here, so for this entry, I’m not going to talk about my life just yet, that will be coming soon. I will, however, discuss current events. So, this entry will contain the news over the last few days. I will just include items, some funny remarks about them, and now the new feature, a short joke about the subject that it in the style of a late-night talk show monologue joke, just for fun, just for the exercise. So here we go, jerks!

Various News Items Over The Past Week

Ver-sawch-ee!

Donatella Versace’s said her daughter, Allegra, was suffering from anorexia. So, she’s obsessed with being thin, eh? I wonder where she got that idea. Hmm… is there anyone she knows that seems to put importance on thin women? Hmmm… is there someone she knows that might glorify waifshly thin female super-models? Hmm… is she perhaps acquainted with anyone that worships starving girls that look like they were just released from Auschwitz? No offense, Donatella, but I hope your daughter dies because it’s your fucking fault, you image-obsessed, ugly-clothes-making, greedy, holocaust-denying bitch. Ok? You did this to her. You did it. It’s your fault. So stop holding press conferences and whining about Anorexia like your daughter isn’t the typical person who would have it. Besides, she’s probably fat anyway. You hear that Allegra? You’re fat! Keep working at it! Your buttcheeks are still touching each other! That’s fat!

Now, the joke: So Donatella Versace had a press conference yesterday to say that her daughter, Allegra, was anorexic. Now, she’s worried that this will spread to her other daughters, Claritin and Benadryl.

Hillclint

Clinton said recently that she is a feminist, and if you were to look up the word “feminist” you would find a picture of her. Having read Bill’s book, it is obvious to me that Hilary Clinton is very much behind women’s rights, but I don’t know if I would go so far as to call her a feminist. I mean, that name has connotations. If she’s a feminist, then where’s the flannel shirt? The short hair-cut? The other feminist whom she has regular sex with? The hairy legs? The hairy vag? We all know that Hilary has a nice Brazilian. So, the bottom line is that she’s not a feminist because she’s not a carpet licking dyke. However, she is for women’s rights.

Now, the joke: Hilary Clinton said recently that if you were to look up the word “feminist” you would find a picture of her. She said it’s the same picture they used for the word “pantsuit.”

Leave me alone, Houdini!

So recently, people have been trying to dig up Houdini’s corpse to determine whether or not he was murdered by poison, or died by being punched in the stomach, as was previously thought. However, the wife came out recently saying that digging up Houdini reeked of sensationalism. Sensational, eh? That’s right. Nothing incenses people thse days more than Houdini! I don’t think so. In a efw days, this story will disappear fast that say, oh… you know.

Now, the joke. Couldn’t think of a joke for this one.

I love you, the Netherlands!

Ok, so this one is just the joke. So a dutch fisherman, convicted of drug smuggling, could deduct the cost of buying and shipping the hashish on his tax forms, said the Dutch government. When asked for comment, the fisherman said “deductions? What? Man, I’m so high right now.”

Milk Jesus

So this artist made 200lbs of chocolate into a sculpture of a completely nude and anatomically correct chirst being crucified. Now, usually, I don’t give a shit about art, and this is no exception. However, a lot of other people are giving a shit about this one. One asshole, Bill Donohue, said “This is one of the worst assaults to Christian sensibilities ever!” Oh, boo hoo. And the three hour movie where Jesus is tortured the entire time is wholesome, family, fun, right? I know why you don’t like the Candy Christ, because it’s chocolate. Because that implies jesus was black, eh? Well, you have nothing to worry about. If Jesus had been black, he wouldn’t have turned water into wine, he would have turned it into malt liquor! Ha! BLACK PEOPLE: THAT WAS A JOKE, DO NOT FIND AND SHOOT ME! I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU LIKE TO DO THAT, BUT JUST THIS ONCE, PLEASE TRY TO CONTROL YOUR ANIMALISTIC INSTINCTS! THANKS, BLACK PEOPLE!

Now, the joke. Christian groups are up in arms about a sculpture of jesus, who is naked and anatomically correct, completely made out of milk chocolate. The group said, yeah, we’re ok with most of the sculpture. We were just insulted by the use of the two Cadbury cream eggs and the snickers bar.

Take my wife, please! Then kill her.
So this NYPD recruit was caught recently for trying to have his girlfriend killed. No biggie, right? But here’s the thing. She’s standing by him! She’s sticking by his side throughout the trial. He must have a huge cock, or something. But seriously, is she an idiot? I mean, I understand going back to lover that’s abusing you. There is a strong psychological attachemtn and fear of leaving. But this guy skipped the whole middle man and just went for the final product. And besides, you don’t have to fear him anymore because he’s going to jail! So why stand by him? Oh yeah, huge cock. Anyway, what an idiot.
Now, the joke. The girlfriend of an NYPD recruit stood by him as he went on trial for trying to have her killed by an undercover police officer posing as a hitman. Apparently, she hasn’t read the part of “he’s just not that into you” where it says “he’s just not that into you if he tries to have you killed!”

Welcome Back, Potter

You might think this is a clever Harry Potter reference, and I’m sure later on it will be, or already was, but now, it refers to the fact that three city high school teachers were arrested for smoking weed in front of some Friday night concert, and were moved to other schools. These guys are awesome!
Now, the joke. Three city high school teachers were arrested for smoking marijuana. Hey, whatever keeps their hands off the students.

A quick one. Jennifer Lopez said recently that she wants to drop the J. Lo moniker and simply go back to being Jennifer Lopez. No word yet if she has asked her ass for permission.

Less Jokey items.

Former Bush aide Tommy Thompson said he is going to run for president. I don’t care.

The lone woman on the FBI’s most wanted list was arrested recently. First of all, the FBI is sexist! There should be a fifty/fifty split of women to men on the FBI’s most wanted list. Second of all, without her on the list, when is the Women of the FBI’s most wanted list calander going to come out?

James Doohan’s ashes were fired into space with like 200 other people. He played Scottie on star trek. I want go like that.

Archived Blog Mar 28 2007

2007-04-04T23:09:00.000-07:00

March 28, 2007
Just the news again! (I love you Adie!)

Hey guys, this is a blog entry that was written after the day that I am claiming to write it on. I’m just going to talk about news stories, and keep it short, because I have some good stuff in the works. Here we go, assholes!

Dead Cop!

A retired cop shot died of a self-inflicted gun-shot wound today. However, they haven’t determined if it was accidental or suicide. How hard is that to figure out? I mean, did he shoot himself in the leg or something? Was there a note? Was the gun in his mouth? If the gun was in his mouth, I’m gonna have to call that one a suicide.

Subway Snatch!

So there is this robber who would rob women on subway platforms. He would get on the train and stand between the two train cars, then when the train started to pull out of the station, he would lean forward, take some woman’s purse, and then be on his way. The perfect crime, no? Well, it would have been, if the dumbass burglar hadn’t been convicted of that exact same crime at the EXACT SAME STATION twelve years earlier. So, they caught him. And I cared, but barely.

Boo Hoo!

So to make room for the Atlantic Yards, the city wants to tear down the Ward Bread Bakery on Pacific street. No biggie, right? No. Huge biggie. Guess what happened? That’s right, stupid protesters came and said “you can’t tear down that bakery, it’s historic!” Listen, hippies, New York City is a confined space, and we don’t have the resources to keep every abandoned old building that no one cares about until it is torn down. No one’s heard of this bakery, and no one cares about it, and no one cares about you.

Why?

People gathered around some place in Greenwich village to commemorate some sort of 96th anniversary of some fire that killed 146 people. That’s right. 96th anniversary. Who cares anymore? These people would be dead anyway! Are you commemorating Pompeii? Why don’t we commemorate the death of the dinosaurs. Oh, I remember why, because it happened sixty five fucking million years ago!

Sorry, when I started writing this blog entry I stopped before I was finished, and this is the end result. Enjoy it!

Archived Blog Mar 27 2007

2007-04-04T23:06:00.000-07:00

March 27, 2007

I Love My Life –or—I Hate My Life!—Or, Happy Birthday Spock!

Just the news for this entry.

But first, the news.

Death: New York Assholes Want to Grade Restaurants.

So, in the last couple of months, there have been major health things going on after a Taco Bell/KFC had rats running around in the basement. As far as I understand, there was construction going on, and the rats came out in response to the tremendous vibrations affecting their homes. It got caught on video tape, so NYC shit a brick, and now they are going nuts with the health code violations, because they are idiots and don’t realize that there are rats in every building in the entire city. What a bunch of douchebags. So, what do they do?

I’ll tell you what they do. They’ve come up with the retarded idea that they should grade these restaurants and make the restaurants display their grades prominently on their facades. Yeah. That’s gonna happen. You want to give people the truth? Well, people can’t handle the truth!

Worst of all, here’s the quote from State Senator Jeff Klein about the new proposal: “It will certainly rat out the bad restaurants.” Ha ha, Jeff Klein! You are so funny! That wasn’t a forced pun at all! Why am I struggling to be a stand up when there are people with such massive talent out there as you? I can never be that funny!

Happy Land

So, in 1990, there was a fire at the social club, Happy Land, where 87 people died. The survivors, yesterday, decided to give out their condolences to the 10 Malians who were killed recently in another Bronx fire, where there was the great tragedy of one man losing his wife and his children. So, let me respond for him, as he’s in Mali right now.

Listen, Happy Land, don’t lord your higher body count over those poor Mali saps. Just because they had a fire too doesn’t mean you have to come in and be like, “oh, we had more dead people! You guys suck.” No, you guys suck! You suck, Happy Land! And I am probably the first one to point it out, but to be trapped in a fiery inferno where you burn to death inside a place called “Happy Land” is slightly ironic.

Congratulations, President Edwards!

So John Edwards today (Monday) said “Do not vote for us because you feel some sympathy or compassion for us. That would be an enormous mistake.” Bravo John! That’s get people to vote for you because they feel sympathy or compassion! Reverse psychology is king! Oh man, I want to vote for you and the missus so much now. I have so much sympathy and compassion. I don’t know, but I think I have a little empathy! Oh wait, I’ve never had cancer. Never mind.

Two things though. First of all, you used “for us” twice in the first sentence, and that makes it redundant. That would be like if I had just written: It is redundant for you to use the redundant phrase “for us” redundantly twice in the same redundant sentence, which is redundant. You’re such a redund. Second of all, is it just me, or did you say that voting for you would be a huge mistake? That’s reverse psychology, I guess, but take it easy man. You know how that sentence can be screwed with now, just will ellipses or brackets? You don’t? I’ll show you! Here’s the ellipsis version: “Do not vote. . . . That would be a an enormous mistake.” What? You don’t want us to vote at all. Here’s the bracket version: “Do [vote for me, because to] not vote for us because [don’t] you feel some sympathy or compassion [makes you a baby killer!] For us[, giving up Satanism is something] That would be an enormous mistake.” See? He loves Lucifer.

Where’s the beef?

So in Texas, this dude, Timothy Wayne Shepherd, and this girl, Tynesha Stewart, 27 and 19 respectively, were going out, and they kind of got into a little fight. And things got kind of heated, and Timothy Wayne Shepherd kind of sort of maybe killed her a little bit. And then, you know, one thing led to another, and people weren’t thinking, and hurtful things were said, and Timothy Wayne Shepherd may have by accident just dismembered her and chopped her up into pieces, purely accidentally. And then, almost in a comedy of errors, after a series of misunderstandings and miscommunications, Timothy Wayne Shepherd just got a little scared, and completely in self-defense, he may or may not have barbecued her body parts for two days straight.

And now, they want to prosecute this guy. First of all, don’t you think he’s gone through enough? I mean, his girlfriend just died! Also, he just killed someone! Also, it was completely by accident! Also, hacking of limbs is a grueling task, not to mention slaving over a hot barbecue for two days where nobody thanks you for the hard work or good food. Second of all, what ever happened to self defense? Has anyone looked into this? She probably threatened his life somehow, and then, without even thinking, he just reacted quickly, by killing her, cutting her up, and burning her body parts. And, she happened to die in the process, probably because of some pre-existing medical condition. What ever happened to our civil liberties? Am I not allowed to protect myself if I am being attacked! For shame, America, on your treatment of this saintly man.

Splinter Taught Them To Be Ninja Team

TMNT is number one at the box office last weekend! Good job guys! Good job, Monet, Manet, Degas, and Botticelli! I think that’s their names. Oh yeah, and the rat. What’s his name? Anal Mucus. That’s his name, right?

Marvin Bernard is Tony Yayo

So Marvin Bernard was released form jail a few days ago being he had assaulted a 13-year-old boy last week. Apparently, the boy was just walking on the street, when Yayo and his posse pulled up along side him, jumped out, and pushed him up against a wall. Then jumped back in the car and drove off. Later, Marvin Bernard, rapt with guilt, turned himself into police.

My question is: what the hell is that about? You’re a crappy rapper, why do you need to be beating up thirteen year olds? Pick on someone your own size. I nominate myself. I could use a good ass whooping. Come on, Marvin, bring it on, you little bitch!

Don’t actually bring it on!

Despite what I just said, please don’t come and beat me up. Thanks.

Hermione is back!

So, it seems after I posted that letter to Hermione/Emma Watson that she must do the next Harry Potter movies, she finally agreed to do it. Coincidence? I think not. She definitely read it. Man the world revolves around me so much.

Snoopists!

So, snoop has been denied a visa for doing a whole bunch of shown in the U.K., most likely because he was arrested at heathrow airport last year after he got into a fight. Listen, United Kingdom, if that is your real name, you have no right to keep Snoop out of anywhere. Just because he lieks to carry around guns and drugs and get into fights doesn’t mean you need to get all up in his grill about it! Besides, what better publicity for you and heathrow airport is that anyway? You should definitely let him in and perform music for your snaggle-toothed, smelly audience. Besides, isn’t this a little hypocritical? I mean, you get all upset at snoop for fighting in the airport, but when you decided to invade our country in 1776, we didn’t complain! You guys are jerks. Minge.

Britney is on the loose!

Watch out everyone! Britney is out of rehab. I’m sure she’s fine, because she did spend six hours there. That’s enough to stop addiction, right? Oh, all the experts in the world says it takes at least three months? Well, what do they know anyway? So, britney’s out, so be careful. Watch out for you umbrellas, your babies with driver’s licenses, and of course, your penises.

That’s all for today
Evan out.

Archived Blog Mar 23 2007

2007-04-04T22:59:00.000-07:00

The Absolutely True Ball Story

Prologue:

I am a hypochondriac and always have been and always will be. On the other hand, I have many legitimate ailments, and as one doctor told me, "the difference between you and a hypochondriac is that you actually have stuff wrong with you." It is also worth noting that I have a "healthy" addiction to marijuana and exercise, although not at the same time. Finally, at the time of this storry, I aws living in Washington heights in the most northern part of New York. The closest hospital to me and the one in the story was Columbia Presbyterian. The events that follow took place circa. March of 2006.

The Story:

It was late Thursday night and once again, I was in my room lifting weights, specifically performing the bent-over row, when my testicles decided to swap spots. The bent-over row is when one stands with legs straight and separated, lean over and pull a large barbell up to one's chest. To clarify, I was lifting the barbell with my hands, not my testicles. As my muscles contracted during one of the repetitions I could feel my testicles cross over each other inside my scrotum as if they were performing a Chinese fire-drill. At that point, there wasn't much I could do about it, because it was cold, and when the testicles switched, they were somewhere between my lungs and my liver. I had no access until several hours later, after a hot shower.

Sitting on my bed, wearing boxers and a t-shirt, I quickly took a couple of hits from the marijuana pipe I keep on my bed stand. I turned on the television and began watching an episode of South Park I had seen the day before. The jokes were still fresh in my mind, and as the pain in my now relaxed scrotum began to well, I was still laughing, engrossed in the episode, oblivious to the intense pain I was about to feel. When the pain finally came to the point where I could no longer ignore it, the idea that my testicles had indeed switched positions re-entered my mind, and I sent my hands down there to investigate.

As my hands took their well-traveled trip to my crotch, the pain was steadily increasing. Going by feel alone, my hands were able to untangle the knotted mess that had been my two spermatic cords. Lying on my back, when the testicles were untied, I experienced a feeling of relief so massive, it was if I had defecated after holding my fecal matter in for a number of years. That feeling multiplied by one thousand.

I sighed and exhaled. The sensation of relief from this kind of testicular pain was sensational and all-encompassing, as if I was melting into a puddle of pure contentment. Far off in the background, I could hear the tinny voice of the pain still lingering, reminding me of the ordeal I had just survived. The lingering voice did not dissipate, however. Growing from a small vestigal yelp to a blood curdling scream, the pain rushed back to my testicles. The pain was similar to the one before, but this one was sharper, deeper, and throbbing. My eyes opened as I thought that perhaps a microscopic nuclear device had been detonated inside my bladder. I forced myself up and off the bed. Blood began rushing from my head, and I became dizzy. Reaching for my phone, I began calculating the price of having an ambulance come. Having not died yet, I decided not to call emergency and call the next best thing: my father.

It was now around one am on Friday morning, and as my dad picked up the phone, I realized I had once again broken my own rule of not talking to my parents when I'm high. However, the testicular pain took first priority, and the conversation had to happen. While I lay in bed moaning, he went onto the internet and did some quick research on testicular pain and the crossing of spermatic cords.

The reaction was not as I had hoped. "Well, maybe you should go to the hospital." Although to me, it sounded much more like he was saying, "Well, maybe you won't have kids." Great. Just great. I asked him if I should get an ambulance, but my father, a loving man said, "No, just take a cab."

I walked up the street towards the intersection that was a veritable cornucopia of cabs. I no longer felt like a single entity. It wasn't only me walking up the street, but it was me with my testicles. The pain was still immense, and I couldn't help but wonder why the testicles had decided to pull such a stunt as that. "Come on, guys," I thought. "What did I ever do to you?" I had never let them get kicked or punched or sucked on too hard. Maybe they were angry that I had recently been giving them regular haircuts. Maybe they were just jerks. Either way, I they needed to get in line.

It was around this time that I noticed how much my stomach was hurting. Of course, there was the lower stomach pain that is associated with testicular trauma, but there was also a bloating gas pain.

For the last few weeks, I had been drinking weight loss shakes at night that are effective only because they are filled with air, and fill you very easily. The drawback is that they increase anal output to an exponential degree. On top of the testicular pain, nature was calling with vehemence.

I got in a taxi cab and told the driver to take me to the emergency room, which was four blocks and literally one minute away. I gave him five dollars and went into the hospital's ER waiting area. After discussing the unfortunate circumstances relating to my testicles to three surprised people, I was admitted into the ER.

A cute nurse around my age came up to me and asked me what the problem was. At this point, I had two choices: lie to her or ruin my chances of ever having an intimate moment with her. Although my brain pleaded with me to lie, my testicles won the argument. It was quite a role reversal. Immediately, I was hooked up to an IV, which delighted me because it confirmed that I was not being my usual hypochondriac self. I was asked to give a urine sample, which I refused. Given the nature of my affliction (the brewing volcano in my stomach, not the nuclear wasteland in my scrotum), I was worried that if I urinated, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from passing all of my waste and then all of my internal organs, or at least, the two organs which had landed me in the hospital in the first place. She put me in a hospital bed and told me to wait there. Before she left, I asked her a question that had been plaguing the back of my mind.

"Considering I just ate, if I had to go into surgery and receive anesthetics, am I going to shit myself?" She told me that we would cross that bridge when we came to it. Easy for her to say. She wasn't the one about to drop a load in her pants.

I sat back and tried to relax. Half the time I had to close my eyes and ignore the intense testicular pain. The other half, I had to close my eyes and ignore the intense gas pain. Then the doctor came in.

He was a young, attractive, twenty-something Jew. His appearance was so surprising to me that my first question was if he was a student or a nurse. "No, I'm a doctor," he replied. But then he added, "I'm in my first year of residency." As much as I didn't want this punk rookie handling such sensitive organs, I was sure that one wet-behind-the-ear, gumshoe quack was better than no wet-behind-the-ears, gumshoe quacks. I described the problem to him, in my own words.

"So I'm working out, right? Doing bent-over lat pulls, right? Then, my fucking balls get twisted together! But I couldn't do anything at first, 'cause they were still way up inside my body.

Finally, a few hours later, I was able to untwist them, and man, you don't know relief until you have untwisted your balls!" And of course I then described to him what happened afterwards and why I was now in the emergency room. He asked me about some of medical history and looked in my eyes and questioned me about my marijuana usage. I explained to him that I had been smoking everyday for the last six years and knew what the fuck I was doing and that it had nothing to do with the testicles. He seemed to understand.

He then told me to drop my pants so that "we" could have a look at them. Now, most of the time, when a grown man asks if he can look at my nuts, the answer is going to be "No." Or perhaps a firmer, "No. Not on the first date! What, do you think I'm a slut?"

The examination was as short as it was embarrassing. He told me to get back on the table, and then the real fun began.

"Ok, Evan. We're going to need to get a stool sample."

Ahhh… Finally, relief!

"Ok, so should I just go the bathroom or…"

"No, I can just do it right here," he replied simply.

I heard what he said, but it took a second to register what he meant.

I had recently been working on a comedy bit about my anus, and the fact that nothing had ever entered it. I had done research on this, including calling both of my surprised parents and asking them about the first six years of my life. As far as I could tell, I was an anal virgin, and I planned on keeping it that way. Suddenly, this 24 year streak would be broken. Not by a fellow inmate or an imaginative girlfriend, but by a trustworthy male doctor. I voiced my opinion.

"Oh, God damn it!" I thought about refusing it for a second, but it was clearly the only choice.

"Fine! Be gentle."

Before I was anally penetrated, I had a fear that, because I was so gassy and backed up and was clenching my sphincter tightly, any insertion to disturb the tender balance would result in a spray of feces not unlike Old Faithful. I clenched my body in anticipation.

The greasy finger slid in and wiggled around like a curious earthworm—with knuckles. While it was inside me, I realized that it wasn't nearly bad as I had thought. All my hydrocarbons were still in my system, there were no leaks, no flesh was torn, and, if I had been a different person born in a different place in a different time, it would have felt good. The finger came out, along with a large amount of my dignity, and apparently, a small amount of feces to analyze. The streak was broken. I had lost my "bumginity." Dejectedly wiping my butthole as the doctor left, I said the only thing I could think to say:

"Call me!"

Still, that guy's finger was about eight and a half inches long. And it was really veiny too.
Minutes later the doctor came back with good news. I didn't have any hemorrhoids, polyps, or symptoms of colon cancer. Of course, I hadn't though that I did have these things, but I trying to find the silver lining from the situation. The man who had put his finger in my anus told me that there was another step to take. I was going to have to get an ultra-sound done to my nutsack. I thanked him, and he put in the order for me to be wheeled over to the ultrasound.

I moved into the wheel chair and sat there, alone with my thoughts and my searing gas pain, thinking about how much had changed about me in the last few minutes. The testicular pain, however, did not want to be ignored, and I became distracted. I looked around to see the young nurses talking with each other about such mundane things as their own lives. I found myself furious that they weren't in deep mourning for the traumatic events that had just taken place. Furthermore, I was angry because, in an ER, there is a certain amount of professionalism you must maintain in front of patients. I didn't care what they do in their spare time, whether it's monopoly in the OR, spin the bottle in the supply closet, or naked twister in the pharmacy, when one is in front of a patient, one must pretend that one cares about ones job.
At some point, after just sitting there, the cute doctor-man looked around the ER.

"Hey! Is someone going to take this patient to Ultrasound?"

Yes, the cute doctor was my hero. He was my knight in shining armor. My savior. My Christ. And in that instant, I was a homosexual. I wanted nothing else than to make love to that doctor for being so kind and caring to me. It was too bad I couldn't because of my severe genital pain.
The nurses looked at each other, obviously trying their hardest to not acknowledge my presence in the room.

"I don't want to take him."

"Me neither."

"Don't look at me."

The doctor was getting angry, and pointed at someone and told him to take me to the Ultrasound. He was a young Hispanic man in a large black T-shirt that had a skull on it. He walked over and grabbed the back of my chair, obviously hating his job or life, or whatever it was that made him into such an aloof creep.

He pushed my and my chair for what seemed to be miles to the other part of the hospital. The whole while, I tried to make small talk with him, but my efforts at easing the awkwardness went unanswered. It was around three am, and the hospital halls were empty, so as he pushed me around, it was only we two, with no one else to walk by or make me feel like I wasn't in some sort of horrible nightmare where up is down and left testicle is right testicle. The nice young man dropped me off in the Doppler Imaging area, and went back to doing whatever it is he actually does. May Jesus (read "hey zeus") bless him.

So, there I sat, waiting to be ultra sounded, as a couple nurses and janitors came to the area, sat down in the couches of the waiting area, and proceeded to watch a movie. Apparently, this is what happens late at night in hospitals. People watch movies while millions are without health insurance. After about fifteen minutes of "jarhead," a youngish, also attractive man came and took me into the ultrasound room.

I relayed the story to him for what seemed to be the billionth time. He told me to take off my pants and pull out my wiener and nuts. I was surprised that the ultrasound couldn't see through fabrics and clothing, even though it could see through skin. I told him that, and he informed me that it couldn't, I would have to remove my wiener. To which I responded that I had thought the ultrasound would be a stronger device than that, expressed in the words "Damn, that shit is weak as fuck!" He laughed, and we proceeded.

So, I was to take out my penis and testicles and lay on my back. Then he gave me one towel to go under my nuts, so as to prop them up for the best vantage point, as if they were being displayed in a museum, and another towel to put over my penis, which was laying against my stomach, pointed towards my head, like a checkmated chess king. Of course, I was very thankful that he had given me this other towel to cover my penis. He was thoughtful enough to make sure I wasn't embarrassed, because talking at length about my junk to everyone in the hospital for two hours and them showing him my balls and letting him touch them like he was shopping for produce was fine, but if he had accidentally seen my penis, then I would have been embarrassed.

He did the test, and of course I asked the question: "Is it a boy or a girl?" He laughed. Then I asked him if he'd every heard that one before, and he told me that he had only heard it about a trillion times. Of course, I wasn't on my A material, because I was in severe testicular pain.
The young Hispanic man magically appeared and took me back to the ER. The trip back was almost identical to the trip there in every aspect, instead this time we were going the other way down the hall. He then left again, going back to doing whatever it is he actually does.

The cute doctor was back. My love told me the prognosis, and it was good. There was blood flow to both my testicles, and it seemed that they had come out of this unharmed. He that if this type of thing happens again, they might have to sow the balls to the sides of the sack, but even though that procedure sounded very, very attractive, it probably wouldn't have to occur. There was only one thing left: the urine sample. I nodded that I understood, and then shook hands with the doctor—the doctor who had violated me and stolen my heart—and said goodbye to him forever. He still haunts my dreams.

The attractive nurse, who had, by now, told all her friends about why they should never date me, asked me if I was ready to give my urine sample. Still reeling from the gas pain, I agreed, but asked the simple question of whether or not I could lock the bathroom door. She said that I could, and it was the best news I had heard all night. I got out of the chair, headed for the bathroom, waddling like a penguin in order to keep my buttocks from literally exploding.
I sat down on the toilet and urinated into the cup and put it aside. Now was the moment I had been waiting for. I unclenched my sphincter and let nature take its course. What followed next was a fart. Not just any fart, mind you, but the longest fart I have ever experienced, heard of, or thought was possible. The fart lasted about twelve seconds. Now, that doesn't sound like a long time, but read the following out loud. One Mississippi. Two Mississippi. Three Mississippi. Four Mississippi. Fiev Mississippi. Six Mississippi. Seven Mississippi. Eight Mississippi. Nine Mississippi. Ten Mississippi. Eleven Mississippi. Twelve Mississippi.

Good. Now realize that that whole time was one powerful, relieving fart. It was a fart for the ages. It was like World War II, but a fart, like World Fart II. Or Fart War II. Or World War Fart. Or Fart Fart Fart. Yeah, the last one.

The urine test was complete. The gas was passed. The balls were fine, and I was discharged around 3:30 am. I walked out of the hospital, feeling much better, and headed back towards my apartment. The cold air whipped through my hair, and brushed lightly on my recovering testicles, reminding me of the intense pain I had felt so soon before. There was still a dull, throbbing pain, but it was manageable. The darkness of the sky and the brightness of the street lights underlined the dichotomy between life and death, sleep and lucidity, truth and lies, and left testicle and right testicle.

Epilogue:

The next few days I spent a lot of time playing with my testicles, and not how I usually play with them. I was analyzing them for damage and compulsively checking that they hadn't been twisted. In fact, I was acting rather rough with them, almost like someone picking at a scab. I kept flipping the left one over and over again, and in my mind, I felt like I was playing tether ball, but instead of the tether ball pole it was spermatic cord. The pain remained for a few days. Maybe I shouldn't have used that hammer.

I saw my primary care physician, and she referred me to a urologist. I set up an appointment with him, and waiting. When one is in testicular pain, it is surprising to see how many times you are reminded about the existence of the testicles. It is virtually not stop. People were referencing testicles left and right, it seemed, and sometimes it wasn't that blatant. As I got on the train platform to go to my urologist, a man walked by my with a plastic bag that continued only two oranges. I wanted to look skyward and say, "Yeah god, I get it. Ok?"

So it turned out, after many anonymous people fondled and caressed my balls, that there is nothing seriously wrong with me, and I will be able to have kids. I still get some pains today, but it seems that everything is doing well with them. I have made some changes to my life to accommodate my testicles. Actually, I have only made one change, and that is I no longer perform the bent-over row, the exercise that got me in trouble in the first place. I hope you have enjoyed this story, and for the love of god, please don't tell anyone about it, it's very embarrassing.

Archived Blog Mar 23 2007

2007-04-04T22:58:00.000-07:00

Friday Blog. Read This Before You Read the Ball Entry!

So, I Need Help! –or-- So, I'm not feeling very funny today.

So, I was watching MTV and I saw some teens affected by a condition that I have known about long before I had seen this show, self mutilation. People who do this are often called "Cutters," because they cut themselves to relieve anxiety and depression. It's an addiction, like drugs, or vomiting up food, and it is a psychological disorder. Anyway, I've realized something.

So, I'm a Pisser! When I'm in times of stress or depression, often times, I will go to the bathroom and urinate. Currently, I'm up to about five times a day! It's interrupting my life. Whenever I get sad or stressed out and I've had a lot of liquids, I start pissing! I need help! I need an internvetion. I need to stop urinating!

The Newsies!

Dead potential first lady walkin'! or Congratulations, President Edwards!

So, it has been released that the wife of the ever beautiful and yummy yummy John Edwards, Elizabeth Edwards, has had a reappearance of cancer, and this time it's incurable metastatic breast cancer that has spread to her bones. The New York Times said that only 26% of people who have this live for more than five years.

And guess what? John Edwards is going to go forward with his campaign! And guess what? You're screwed Hilary and Barack! You are totally screwed! Who are you going to vote for, America? A black man, a white woman, or a poor, attractive, white man who's attractive wife that he loves very much is dying of cancer? What? You're going to vote for Barack? So you're for cancer? That's what I thought. Voting for anyone other than Edwards is a vote for cancer. And you know who loves cancer? That's right. The terrorists.

Poor John and Elizabeth. I say this for the following reasons. 1. Elizabeth is going to die. That sucks. I feel bad for her, and almost feel too bad to make light of her situation in my blog. Almost. 2. What is John supposed to do? When your wife has cancer, do you stop running for president to be with her? If you do that, you end up resenting her because she has cancer. Then everything is screwed. Then you sleep with 12 year old asian boys. And what if you do run? Then you can't be there all the time unless you don't win the presidency. But what if you do win the presidency? Then you're wife has to die while you eat burritos with the president of mexico. I don't know.

Here's what he should do: use her cancer as a political football! It's not that bad to do that. Republicans do it with 9/11 all the time, and John Edwards wife is 9/11 divided by 3000, which is approximately .3. Is .3 that bad? No way! It's less than one! And if that doesn't work, he should slit her throat. Put her out of his misery. I mean her misery.

At least at some point, this hot young lawyer will be back on the market with all his scrumptious juiciness, and I get first dibs! I called it ladies. (Sorry Adie, I love you!)

Screw the Newsies!

Ok, so I shouldn't force it, right? I wanted to talk about the government giving the go ahead for children to stare at porn all day, or the fertility clinic that gave a white couple a black baby, or the fact that Houdini is going to exhumed and sodomized, but I don't wanna talk about this stuff today. Instead, I'm gonna regale you all with the tale about how I almost gave myself a vasectomy. That's in the next entry. Enjoy it, and realize, it's the rough draft.

God, I'm tired.

Have a nice weekend, Evanites. Enjoy the tale of my testicles!

Evan

Archived Blog Mar 22 2007

2007-04-04T22:55:00.000-07:00

Thursday, March 22, 2007

Evan-erotic Asphyxiation

I Put a Lot of Work Into These Blogs, So Read Them, You Filthy Ingrates! –or– Happy Birthday Kirk!

Hey guys! Here's my third blog in as many days! I like this whole not cursing thing, but it makes it harder for me to be funny. I guess I'm just not that talented. I guess I should just take my unfunny self and jump off a bridge. Onto anther bridge. And then jump off that bridge. And then after I land, shoot myself. And then throw the water gun out and use a real gun. And then, finally, shoot the first nun I happen to walk by. And then hang myself. Cry for help people! Save me from suicide! Save me now!

But first, the news:

Boo Hoo, My Doggy Died!

Princess was a bullmastiff. Notice, I use the term "was" because she is no longer a bullmastiff, now she's a rotting corpse slash thing I would like to dig up and have sex with. (Did you like how I write the word "slash" instead of just using the term "/"? You didn't? Oh. Well, what about next time—no? You'll never like it? I thought we were friends.) And I say, aww, boo hoo! Your doggy died… awww… she was poisoned by dog food. Oh no!

Well, let me tell you something about that bitch, Princess. She was dog-Hitler! It is written all over her. You could tell. Whenever you "shook hands" with her, she would bark a muffled "Rik Reil!" That, if you don't know, is dog for "sic heil." Now, if she was saying that all the time, that would be one thing, but only while shaking hands?

And what about the fact that she denies the holocaust? They tried showing Schindler's list to her, and she just fell asleep! That's denial if you ask me. Anyway, kudos to this dog food manufacturer! You have saved countless jew-dogs.

You Hate White People? Well They Hate You Too!

Steven Johnson of New York took hostages in an East Village bar a while ago and said that "white people are going to burn tonight!" In the end, everyone got out safely, and he was arrested. So, what was his charge? Community service? A couple months in the slammer? Nope, not that. Think higher. A few years in prison? Not quite a few. Life in prison? Think higher. Two hundred forty years in prison? Bingo!

That's right, they sentenced him to 240 years. Now, don't get me wrong, this is a crime, but murderers only get like 20 years anyway. This guy didn't murder anybody. He just said white people are going to burn. That doesn't even mean he hated white people. I'm sure there were a few fires in the world and in the US that night where white people were burned alive. That was probably what he was referring to. It's just like saying, "Asian people are gonna eat rice tonight!" That's not a racist statement, it's just fact. Somewhere, in the world, Asian people will be eating rice tonight. There are a billion people in china, some of them have to be eating rice!

Besides, if you start sentencing all the black people who hate white people to 240 years in prison, we're just going to be left with Whoopi Goldberg, Jaleel White, and Barack Obama, and he's not even black! You know what I'm saying? And then how would I know what was cool?

Land Marshals

So they want to put air marshals on trains now, in case of something going wrong. This is a great idea, because air marshals have stopped so many terrorist attacks so far! I mean, they've definitely stopped at least one, right? I mean, I think they have. Anyway, let's put them on trains, because terroirts are hijacking those.

Al Gore Stop Running For President And Accept That Global Warming Is A Scientific
Conspiracy!

So Al Gore went into congress to whine and moan about Global Warming, all while obviously trying to run for president. I think it's time to write a letter.

Dear Al, First of all, if you are going to run for president, make up your mind! Don't just run around pretending to care about some imaginary issue and pretending to care for the good of humanity just to get votes, ok? Be a man! You are just using this "concern for the environment" as political leverage! No one actually cares about the environment. The only people who have opinions on it are politicians and hippies, and the hippies are just high. Second of all, don't run for president. You don't have a chance at all! Nobody likes you, you have no experience, and the last time you tried, you got defeated, even though you won both the popular vote and the electoral college. Don't you know it's who you know? Do you know jeb? I don't think so. Only the person who knows Jeb can win. This has been proven many times. Third of all, we all know that Global Warming doesn't exist. It's just a vast scientist conspiracy. They want grant money so they can do their research (crack/cocaine). If the planet is getting hotter, then why did it snow this winter? Why haven't I been using my air conditioner? Why does my refrigerator still work? And sure, I know that Global Warming has been proven, but proven by who? Scientists? With cold hard data? Please. And, oh, I should believe it because every other person in all other countries in the world want it to be true? Just because only super right-wing Americans don't believe it? Please, Al. Do some research. The only reason that Republicans know the truth is that it's written in the bible. Don't you remember the eleventh commandment? "Thou shalt not not use Global Warming as a political football when it should be taken with the utmost seriousness." That's right, bitch. That's right.

Love,Evan

P.S. Lose some weight!

Ayatollah Assahollah!

So Senor Khamenei says that Iran will not stop doing the nuke thing, even if they have to do it illegally. Can we just invade already? I'm sick of everyone speculating about it. Let's just invade and get it over with. Can't we just have all our soldiers in iraq just take a few steps east? Then we'll be in Iran. Simple solution, let's do it.

Angelina, Shubafo!

First of all, in case you don't know, "Shubafo" means "Shut up before I punch you." I got it from my friend Makeen. Now, the issue at hand.

Angelina spoke about her new gay baby, Pax. You know, like K-Pax? Here's what she said about her new homosexual child. "You can imagine what it takes to be in all new surroundings, with new people and a new language. He is very strong."

Ugh. For Christ's sake, he's three, you idiot! He's three years old! He's not strong, he's just a damn baby! It's not like he has a choice, you kidnapped him! Brad, please break up with her before her pretentiousness kills you. I love you Brad.

Now, me.

iPoop!

My loving girlfriend surprised me with the gift I demanded that she buy for me, a nice iPod case that will protect the iPod completely and can be submerged in up to three feet of water or horse-semen. Thanks, Adie! I love you, sweetheart! And, if any other of you jerks even looks at her, I will tear your skin off.

Comedy!

Well, I'm doing comedy tonight, and I need to get started on fixing it up, because I only have two hours before the show and not that much new stuff to show for it. So, today's entry is almost ovah! I'll keep you all updated, because I know you are so obsessed with my life.

DVD Recorder and Digital Camcorder!

I need to buy a DVD recorder so I can store various files (porn) I have. Any suggestions? I also need a digital camcorder so I can record my comedy, video diaries, and perhaps intercourse. Any suggestions for a cheap digital camcorder that's cheap and is also inexpensive?

That's all for today, Evanites!

Stay Gay!

Evan

Archived Blog Mar 21 2007

2007-04-04T22:50:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, March 21, 2007

Gumbo

Disclaimer! If you are from a grad school evaluating me, don't read this blog!

Here we go:

My pee is cloudy! --or-- My pee is smelly!

Hey racists and racistettes! Welcome to the third installment of my new blizzog! Wondrous excitement, fantastical adventure, abundant enjoyment, and tremendous entertainment can all be yours! But, those things can only be yours if you read this blog. Or was that refrain from reading this blog? Whatev, same diff.

So, it has occurred to me and my brain that I may use profanity too--how should I put this?--much. So, for now, I am going to try to curse less and use much less vulgar language. I need support from you guys on this, because it might be hard. But so far, I'm clean as a baby's anus. Oh twat! Stop, Evan. Stop. You can do this. Ok, here we go!

A Boat that is More Heroic than a Cadaver Dog!

So the fire boat, the John J. Harvey was built in 1931, decommissioned in 1995, and added to the National Register of Historic Places in 2000. It's a cute little red boat that has a whole buncha hoses that shoot out water, much like one of those fountains that are stupid. You know the ones I'm talking about. Those stupid fountains? Yeah, those.

Anyhoo, on Nine 'Leven. The boat was de-decommissioned, and helped aid in giving water to the first responder teams so they could put out the fires. In all, the boat probably saved a whopping two or three lives.

Anyway, now the boat is totally screwed up, and is about to sink, because it's 75 years old. Now there is a fund-raising campaign to save the boat. It needs about a million dollars to save it. I think this is a great use of money! Why try to combat Aids in Africa when you can keep an ancient, worthless boat around for nothing? I mean, you have to save it. After all, the boat is a hero! That's right! That's what people are calling the boat. A hero. Because you wouldn't want to call the people who worked on the boat that day heroes. They're not heroes! They're losers! They tried to hold the boat back, but the boat wanted to fight terrorism. Shame on those firefighters! How dare they stop the boat from being the hero it truly is. Hey, I have an idea, after the boat is fixed, have it star in some action movies! Maybe it can play Hermione in the last two Harry Potters! It would certainly be a better actor. Or, here's an ever better idea! The public should get a hold on reality and stop wasting money on this worthless garbage! Well, maybe that idea's a little crazy.

T Twain!

So work on the second avenue "T" line in New York is going to start soon, and everyone is so happy because it will be completed by 2020. Great! Just in time! I was planning on going to the Upper East Side on March 23 2021, and the train will be ready by then! I don't need a second avenue line right now at all. And, the plans certainly are newsworthy. We'll have to start rethinking the morning commute, in thirteen years. Thank god there was a story about the line today. I don't want to let it get by me. Hopefully, there will be constant updates on its status from here on out.

Conflict Diamonds are a Girl's Best Friend!

I was reading an article today about how the movie "Blood Diamond" has now shed some light on the horrible diamond industry where many in Africa are slaughtered and put into slavery to collect diamonds called "conflict diamonds" that sell for cheaper. Anyway, that's not the point. The point, is a quote from Martin Rappaport, publisher of the Rappaport Diamond Report.
He said this "You give a girl a fair-trade diamond, she's going to love you more because you're also altruistic."

What do I think of this, you ask? Well, if I may be serious for a moment here, as long as a girl is getting a diamond, she doesn't care where it came from. She certainly isn't going to "love you more," you idiot. She might postpone the break-up or divorce longer in hopes of more diamonds, but she's not going to love you more, you vapid moron. Also, it's not altruistic to not buy a diamond that's from the conflict areas just to buy some other diamond. "Oh man, you are so giving and charitable! I can't believe you got me a not-conflict-diamond! Are you Jesus? Seriously, are you Jesus? Cause you sure act like him!" You know what is altruistic? Not buying any diamond at all and then giving that money to charity. I mean, I wouldn't do it, because I hate charities and helping people, but then again, I'm not altruistic.

Good Job, American Voters!

So this is from the AP: "A defiant President George W. Bush warned Democrats yesterday to accept his offer to have top aides testify about the firings of federal prosectors only privately and not under oath or risk a constitutional show-down from which he would not back down."

That's right, good job, American voters! You elected a president who is completely cooperative with the public in helping us to rid this government of all corruption. Now, I know what you're probably saying, that "hey, can't those people just lie and say whatever they want because they won't get in trouble for it?"

Well, that's a tough one to answer. You see, first of all, we need to have the questions private. Lord knows that if they were public hearings, the top aides would be swamped with hoots, air horns, bras being thrown towards them, naked women mounting and getting impregnated by them, and so on and so forth. Thus, we need to make it private because these people are mega stars.

Secondly, of course they shouldn't take the oath! Taking the oath makes you a part of this justice system, and because we're trying to figure out who is firing people within the justice system, taking the oath would be a conflict on interest! That's why they can't take the oath! I'm not worried, though. These guys are swimming in honor and integrity, so I'm sure not one lie will be told. Next!

Good Job, American Americans!

So Reps and Dems are mad at the FBI, and here's what Darrell Issa, R-Calif said to them after threatening that they will not be able to use telephone and e-mail records to hunt terrorists. "From the attorney general on down, you should be ashamed of yourself. We stretched to try to give you the tools necessary to make America safe, and it is very, very clear that you've abused that trust."

Excuse me, Mr. Issa, but have you forgotten that we're at war? That's right. You want to take away those powers, then you are taking away the ability of us to hunt terrorists like Osama bin Laden who is currently using our telephones and banks, and e-mails. Like, just the other day, I had this conversation.

Evan: Hello?

Osama: Hey buddy.

Evan: Oh, hey Obielle! What up with my favorite terrorists mastermind?

Osama: Shhh… don't call me that.

Evan: Naw, don't worry dog, the FBI can't track this stuff anymore.

Osama: Oh, so I can be candid about everything?

Evan: You sure can, friend for life. Come on, Obielle, tell me about whatever it is you need to. Terrorist attacks, hating America, your location, go nuts!

Osama: Well, if I can be candid, tell me this: what are you wearing?

Evan: A tight white t-shirt and my pink cotton panties with the little bears on them.

Osama: Mmm. That's sexy.

Evan: Whatcha doin?

Osama: Touching myself.

Anyway, it goes on from there, but now that the FBI can't get records, how are they going to catch this man? Damn you congress! 9/11 is your fault! How are we supposed to live in a big-brother society now?

Uhhh, Maybe Second Place is Better

So congratulations Katharine Tuck! You are the cute, little, seventh-grader who beat out six other kids to win the 32nd annual National Odor-Eaters Rotten Sneaker Contest. Apparently her shoes were so bad the judges were wincing. Anyway, again, I want to say congratulations, and I wish you a very happy future of never attracting a man ever, and dying lonely! Kudos!

Free What? What Speech?

Ernst Zundel was sentenced to five years in prison for denying the holocaust. The person who represented him, as I understand it, was Sylvia Stolz, who has now been charged with the same crime after she ended one of her legal filings with "Heil Hitler". A few things on this. As a jew, I think we should take all people who deny the holocaust, round em up, and send em off to be gassed! Yay extremes!

They Didn't Listen to my Blog!

Saddam's aide, who I mentioned yesterday, done got hangded.

You've Got to be Freaking Kidding Me!

A Hooters is opening up in Israel. Need I say more? Oh wait, I guess I should. First of all, Hooters is the stupidest place on the universe. I mean, who likes wings? They're half bones anyway. Wings are dumb. They get you all messy. Why not just have a breast? No pun intended there. Anyway, we shouldn't be spreading this filth around the world like this, and Israel? I mean, I just, I guess, I don't know anymore.

Clitney Queers is Better Than Ever!

So she's leaving rehab this week, has reportedly been there since Feb. 22, and has said to have "made a lot of progress." I heard her kid is going to pick her up and drive her home, so she can pour liquor up her un-covered twat. Oh, damnit, I cursed. Sorry. Apparently, she also agreed with Federline to split the kids, with Clitney eventually getting primary custody. That's what these kids need: An insane alcoholic hairless slut who forces them to drive everywhere and also shakes them when they cry. Good job, universe!

J.K., I love you! (Sorry Adie)

It has been announced that Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows will be 784 pages! Sweet Jesus that's wonderful! I was hoping it would be longer, but you know, I'll take it. I'm so excited. As of today, it is exactly four months before the book comes out. Get ready everybody!

Now, Me!

Ugh. I can't write anymore. I spent all damn day writing this blog, trying very hard not to curse, and I have to say I did a good job so far. Fuck Twat! Damnit. I cursed. Ugh. Forgive me. Anyway, I'm tired, so just enjoy this new survey for now, so I can work on some much needed comedy stuff. Until tomorrow, friends!

Love,

Evan

The Strange Questions Survey

What's the largest age difference between yourself and someone you've dated:
Dated or had sex with? Dated? Fifty years. Had sex with? A couple minutes. That was the age difference and the length it took for me to climax. That means ejaculate. Not a curse! Not a curse!

Ever been in a car wreck?:
No, but I was once in this helicopter that crashed over Somalia. Long story short, Josh Hartnett played me in a movie.

Have you ever been on a blind date?:
I've been on dates where I wished I were blind. Does that count?

Are looks important?:
They are not only the most important thing, they are the only important thing. Screw personality! By the way, my girlfriend has both the looks and the personality, but I don't really pay attention to the personality part. I love you Adie!

Do you have any friends that you've known for 10 years or more??:
Yeah. You jealous? Loser. Nobody likes you!

By what age would you like to be married?:
Five.

Does the number of people a person's slept with affect your view of them?:
Considering I am the Wilt Chamberlain for ugly girls, I really can't fault anyone for being promiscuous. Let's leave that up to Maury.

Have you ever made a mistake?:
Noep. Oh no! Typo! My first mistake! Also, one of those hobos I killed turned out to be a congressman!

Are you a good tipper?
Here's a tip: kiss my ass! Whoops! Not a curse! Otherwise, yes I am a splendid tipper. Now, kiss my a- butt. Kiss my butt. Phew.

What's the most you have spent for a haircut?:
Man, these questions are better than most surveys. They aren't as stupid, and I'm not getting as mad answering them. However, I refuse to answer this question based on the presumption that nobody cares either way.

Have you ever had a crush on a teacher?:
All my teachers were ugly.

Have you ever peed in public?:
I'm doing it right now! But seriously, who hasn't? Find me someone that hasn't done this, and I will show you someone that I will lock up in my closet and feed cream of wheat to until they agree to be my personal slave/concubine.

Would you tell your parents if you were gay?:
Well, they told me they're gay, so I guess I would return the favor. And, for the record, I'm not gay. I just like having sexual intercourse with males.

Beatles or Stones?:
I wish I could come up with a funny answer to this one. Oh, wait, I have one! Suck my balls!

If you had to pick one person on earth to die, who?:
Maya Angelou! I hate her!

Beer, wine or hard liquor?:
No, no thanks. Just a diet coke. I don't drink on the weekdays. But thanks for the offer. Maybe a different time. Just a diet coke for now. That's diet!

Do you have any phobias?:
I'm afraid of being too good in bed. And so far, my fears have been realized!

What are your plans for the future?:
Some success, a little bit of love, Spider-Man 3, some hobo murders, comedy, writing, and finally, full-scale alien invasion.

Do you walk around the house naked?:
Only when the cable guy is over.

If you were an animal what would you be?:
A human being, dumbass! Whoops! Not a curse!

Hair color you like on someone you're dating?:
Dark Brown highlighted with semen.

Do you have any special talents?:
Nope. I'm a waste of atoms.

What do you do as soon as you walk in the house?:
Urinate then contemplate that night's upcoming hobo murder.

Do you like horror or comedy?:
I hate everything, damnit! Not a curse!

Are you missing anyone?:
Saddam.

If you weren't straight, what person of the same sex would you do?:
Every last one I could find. You, baby.

Where do you want to live when you are old?
Nazi Germany.

Who is the person you can count on the most?
Osama bin Laden

If you could date any celebrity past or present, who would it be?
Nefertiti. She's hot.

What did you dream last night?:
Oh, you know, the usual. Rivers of blood and fire. Laughing skulls. Deformed infants. Dying. Death. Destruction. Disease. The usual.

Are you named after anyone?:
I was named after Hillary Duff.

What is your favorite alcoholic drink?:
Horse semen with vodka.

Non alcoholic drink?:
Horse semen without vodka.

Do you sing in the shower?:
If I showered, I might.

Have you ever been arrested?:
No comment.

What is your favorite Holiday?:
September 11th!

Would you ever get plastic surgery?:
I'll probably be needing several penile reductions as my life goes on.

Have you ever caught a fish?:
Yes, if by "fish" you mean "sexually transmitted disease."

Archived Blog Mar 20 2007

2007-04-04T22:47:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Lick Balls!

Two Blogs in Two Days? This is Getting Tiresome. I Hate You, Evan Jacobs!
or
320, Man!

Hey Evanites! Here's a second blog entry! Crazy, eh? I'm so prolific. Well, let's just get down to this festering bullshit.

First, the news:

Naomi Campbell is Christ!

So Naomi "Bitch" Campbell started her first day of community service on this date. If you'll remember correctly, she is serving time because a while ago, her maid was unable to find Naomi's jeans, so Naomi took her cell phone, and hired a man to kill the maid and the maid's family. After the man was done the murders, Naomi, if I remember correctly, beat the murderer to death with the same cell phone she used to call him. The irony is incredible. I think at that point Naomi decided to destroy the planet earth and did so successfully.

But, alas, apparently these are "crimes" so Naomi has to now pay for it. I mean, come on! There is not one person that I know who wouldn't resort to violence because they can't find a pair of pants. Naomi's maid should be lucky that she was only shot in the head! It could have been much worse if it had been Russell Crowe's pants. That guy's an asshole. But, is Naomi an asshole? No way! Just because she acts and thinks like an asshole all the time doesn't make her one. No, she is not an asshole. She is a martyr for all of us that have used our cell phones to beat to death the murderers of our maids who couldn't find jeans. I mean, those jeans looked so great on me! God, I'm pissed.

And it's not like Naomi could just buy a different pair of jeans, or wear a different set of pants. No! She's not rich! She can only afford the one pair! Leave her alone, you racist bastards! Attica! Attica! (I've never seen Dog Day Afternoon.)

Anyone Who Destroys the Airbus 380 is Christ!

So the Stupid-Dumbass-Mobile landed safely at JFK yesterday, without everybody on board dying. This, I think, is a great tragedy. Now that these assholes lived, more and more people are going to start thinking that it's a great idea to get on board this giant, flying, Auschwitz. And, to top things off, I said that it seats 550 passengers yesterday. Turns out, when those elitist fucks aren't deciding to have a first-class section so they can keep down the lower class, the plane can fit around nine hundred people. Nine hundred! People! Someone needs to blow up this plane while it is still on the ground so we don't have to worry about it crashing! Somebody do something, Goddamnit!

How the fuck did this shit happen? Probably something like this.

Scene: Some yuppie-fuck office with two business guys in a meeting. The FAA guy is giving a presentation and the Airbus Executive is half-listening, staring into his black coffee. Neither is naked, but wouldn't it be funny if they were?

Act I

FAA: So, we've been having a lot of problems with safety aboard planes and hijacking in the recent decades.

Airbus Executive: Uh huh.

FAA: We need to come up with a plane that is much safer, less attractive to terrorists, and is extremely efficient in its fuel expenditure to ticket price ratio.

Airbus Executive: Sure, sounds good. Great coffee, by the way.
FAA: So, we want to commission a plane from you that can make long flights, but is small, and for the first time in human history, can crash while leaving most of the passengers alive.

Airbus Executive: Sure, sounds good. Where's the creamer?

FAA: So, what do you have for me?
Airbus Executive: Uh huh.

FAA: Yes?

Airbus Executive: Oh, you're asking—oh! Ok! Sure, we got this great plane! It's like a 747 fucked the Astrodome! It can fit 900 people! Also, it's the biggest plane ever! Let's just hope nothing ever goes wrong with it.

FAA: Perfect! Make a thousand!

Exeunt

People Who Didn't Win the Lottery are Christ!

So this jack-ass dip-shit couple in New Jersey claimed their millions today. I just want to be the first to say, fuck you couple! I never liked you anyway! You can suck my balls. I wanted to win that money, you fucking cock chuggers. Go suck a dick, you assholes! Unless you want to donate some of that money to me. I mean, you're not going to use all of it, right? You're in your late fifties. Let me have some of the money. Ok? That would be awesome. What do you say? Fuck. I knew you wouldn't! Fuck you!

Christ is Christ!

So this dumbass high-school senior decided, in 2002, to show a banner across the street from his school that said "Bong Hits 4 Jesus". Now, we are in the midst of a free-speech case over whether or not his sign was an experiment in free speech or it was an invitation to use drugs. Want to know what I think? Well? You don't? Tough shit!

First of all, this thing was both an experiment and an invitation. It's not the "Bong Hits" part, or the "Jesus" part, it's the "4." Any kid who uses the number four instead of the word "for" is definitely high.

Second of all, anyone who knows anything knows that Jesus was more a fan of 'shrooms. Sure, weed was around in the olden days, but considering that my boy Jesus thought he could turn water into wine after walking to it, could come back to life, and was constantly talking to god, he must have been fucked up on the mushies! I mean, when he was walking around, while everyone else saw desert, he was probably seeing a level from Super Mario Brothers. Man, that son-of-god was fucked up.

Anyway, in conclusion, fuck this guy!

Dead Woman is Christ!

So some old chick died on a flight from New Delhi to London, and the asshole airline, British Airways, moved the bitch to first class! First fucking class! God, you are such assholes! Why not shove her way back in coach and give the first class seat to the poor asshole that had to sit next to her, you fucking limey fucks? Worst of all, they put her next to another first class passenger! This rich piece of shit didn't shell out 3000 bucks just to sit next to a dead girl! At least let him screw her, you know? Oops. Shouldn't have written that.

Saddam is Christ!

So Saddam's aide, Taha Yassin Ramadan, who was sentenced to life in prison, got screwed over by the appeals process and now the Iraqis get to hang him. That's right. That'll teach him for murdering! In this world, if you're a murderer, you get murdered! Take that, logic!

Pax Thien Jolie is Christ!

So Angelina Jolie went to 'Nam yesterday to rescue her newest cunt-baby. I have no problem with that, but she's naming the little cocksucker Pax. You know, like roman for "peace" or like that movie with Kevin Spacey that sucked balls, K-Pax. Well, congratu-fucking-lations, you dumb bitch! Now you have three kids who are going to lead surreal, ridicule-intensive lives. Maddox, Shiloh, and now Pax!

"Hi! I'm Maddox. My mom is Angelina Jolie!"
"Fucking off, you fucking loser! Get a mom who isn't a whore. Why don't you go fuck your uncle like she did, you shit-eating douchebag? Get out of my sandbox."

That's how it's going to go down. I've already come up with some nicknames for the kids so you don't have to think of them.

Shiloh: Shit Hole. My Pole. Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie's gay baby.

Maddox: Mud Cocks. Maggots. Mad Ox. Buttox. Asshole. That poor bastard that Angelina stole.

Pax: Fag!

Sound good?
Evan Jacobs is Christ!

Ok, now for my news.

Gum!
I'm chewing gum right now.

Work!
I'm permanent at my job now. I probably shouldn't be writing this. Please don't tell anybody. Please. I'll do anything. Anything.

Girlfriend!
I wuvvy wuvvy wuv my baby Adie!

Tired!
God Fucking Damnit I'm tired!

Almost Forgot!

Yeah, I almost forgot. I was walking from my apartment to the subway today and I sneezed. There was a middle-aged black woman walking behind me by about twenty feet who said "bless you" but I didn't really hear her. How do I know she said "bless you"? Because she then proceeded to start saying: "Did you hear me? Did you hear me? Excuse me, sir? Did you hear me? I said bless you." So, I turned my head around, smiled, and said "thanks."

Was I really thanking her? No! I just wanted her to leave me the fuck alone. First of all, it's ten am, and I just got up! Don't even fucking talk to me! I don't care if I'm sneezing blood and urine, ok? Bless me? Fuck you! Second of all, damn it! Can't I just sneeze in peace without you having to bring religion into it? Goddamnit, leave me the fuck alone, god! I don't need to be blessed! I don't need goddamn anything! Just let me fucking sneeze and have that be the end of the goddamned story! Finally, you said "bless you!" good for you, you did a good deed. Oh, wait, no one saw you do the good deed? Oh, my bad! I forgot you were only being nice to serve your own selfish purposes. That's why when I give money to charities (which I don't), I say, hey, this money is from me! Evan Jacobs! I am giving you this money! Aren't I great? Hello? Excuse me, sir? Did you hear me? Did you hear me? I said I gave you this money!

Conclusion is Christ!

Well ladies and gentlemen, that, as they say, is that. See you next time I post something, which, at this rate, should be rather soon.
Queef!

Evan Jacobs

Archived Blog Mar 19 2007

2007-04-04T22:46:00.000-07:00

Monday, March 19, 2007
Finally, a Real Blog Entry! Eat my Ass!
Evan's Blog Returns With a Vengeance 2: The New Batch Harder Secret of the Ooze Pig in the City!

Hey everybody! I used to have a blog up on the blogspot website, but I took it down because I decided to apply to grad schools and the blog was horrendously offensive. I took the old blog down, and then of course, I got accepted to all the grad schools! It's funny, though, because they all accepted me with rejection letters, then when I called to clear up the obvious mistakes, they told me to try again next year. So, this year, I am trying again, but I just can't hold off on writing this goddamned blog! So, after a year and two month hiatus, here's your stupid blog again! Now worship me, minions!

First, the news.

Leave JetBlue Alone!

In the news today, there was a small article about how a JetBlue flight lost a chunk of its plane while flying. Granted, this isn't the best thing that could happen on a flight, I still say leave these poor assholes alone! Before, I hated JetBlue because they were a new airline owned by an old airline (AA maybe?) with a gay little twist. Not gay-homosexual, just gay-gay. Like, they would make stupid jokes during the safety speech. I've never taken JetBlue, I have too much self-respect, but my pathetic friend Joe takes it all the time.

Recently, JetBlue had a little stink up when they left some passengers sitting on the runway without food, showers, clean bathrooms, or even porn, for three months! Three whole months on that runway! And everyone and their he-she cousin was up in arms about it, because it was JetBlue. What they don't know is that, during the same time, Southwest airlines enacted a policy of killing every third passenger, while Lufthansa just focused on killing the Jewish passengers. Well, JetBlue didn't kill anyone, except for a few thousand migratory ducks, a hang-glider, and Amelia Earhart. BFD.

So, the media has been hounding JetBlue and is going to run this poor little gay company into the ground, forcing many people out of their jobs. And you know what happens when people lose jobs, don't you? Don't you? I'll tell you what happens. They rape their children and child-abuse their wives! Is that what you want, media? Besides, things fall off airplanes all the time, and no one notices. I was on a flight that complete exploded and disintegrated over the Atlantic Ocean, killing everyone on board, including me! I got home so late that day! Needless to say, that was the last time I'll ever fly Air Force One.

The Airbus 380 Will be the Death of us All!

So today, the A380 will land at JFK for its first flight to North America. As I've said before, this airplane is stupid. When airplanes crash, everyone on board dies. So, what's the solution? Make the airplanes bigger, so we can cram more people in to die! This dumbass-stupid-mobile can seat over five hundred passengers. Five hundred! They should just paint across the side, in large letters, "Hijack me!"

This plane needs to be stopped before it gets so big that the entire world's population can fit on it, and then guess what, crashy time. This plane is a menace! I urge all of my fellow Americans and perhaps some terrorists to destroy this plane before it is too late! Stop the monster! Don't feed the beast! Wash your private parts!

Infant Snatch!

No, I'm not talking about my sexual fantasies here. I'm talking about Rayshaun Parson. She's that woman who kidnapped that baby from a maternity ward. And I just want to say, good job, Rayshaun! You sure know how to get a baby! I know you've had two miscarriages, and the adoption agencies probably think you're unfit to be a mother. So, you did what you had to do! To show those bastards what a good mother you are, you stole a baby! Hooray! I'm so sorry it didn't work out for you, like it does for all those other people who steal babies. You know, all those successful mothers that kidnapped their babies and then raised them? Yeah, that happens so much. Sorry Rayshaun, you left too many clues!

Emma Watson, What is your Problem?

So it was reported today that Emma Watson, the girl who plays Hermione Granger, might not reprise her roles for the sixth and seventh Harry Potter films. Her buddy Rupert Grint, who plays Ron Weasley in the movies say that "doesn't want to do it anymore. She's tired of being known as 'that girl form Harry Potter.'" This is not conclusive, but here's my response:
=======================
Dear Emma:
Hey, what's up? I loved you in Harry Potter 1-4, and I'm sure you'll be great in "The Order of the Phoenix." It's a pleasure to talk to you. Now that the small talk's out of the way, what the fuck is wrong with you, lady? You're fucking Hermione Granger, ok? Get it through your thick skull! You're tired of being known as "that girl from Harry Potter?" Oh boo hoo, is that really so much worse than being known as "that girl who is an aspiring actress but never made it?" Stop fucking whining! If they had wanted to me play Hermione Granger, I would have strapped on a thong and slipped into some high heels and acted my wizard ass off with a smile on my face the whole time. You want to know why? Because A) I love Harry fucking Potter, B) I know when something good falls into my lap! C) I have fans who care about me and don't want to see me act like a stupid snotty retard! D) Because Harry Potter is awesome.
Seriously, I know what happened to Carrie Fisher and Mark Hamill, but you've already been in five Harry Potter movies! Finish them off! What the hell? Why not finish them, you fucking quitter? You're not better than us! You're not! Get back in those wizarding robes and start recording "Half Blood Prince" before I expelliarmus your ass into the next dimension! Jesus Christ! You are Hermione Granger! You! Not me, not anyone else! It's you, so deal with it! If that's such a big problem with you, start a drug habit. I don't care! You're not even the best actress anyway, and sometimes you do a downright shitty job, but I want you as Hermione! You'll never get another role doing anything anyway, so just deal with it. You hear me? Deal with it!

It was so nice talking to you.

Love,
Evan
====================
Now, me!

Girlfriend!
In case you didn't know, the lovely Adrienne Foster (see my first friend) is my girlfriend! She's so wonderful and so hot! I love her! Sweet.

Body!

I have started working out a buttload more than I used to. It would be fine, except for the small fact that I have to also do a buttload of comedy and am trying to work more hours. I will probably end up having to cut my workouts down to more manageable levels. Whatever, I'm huge!

Comedy!

I'm still doing comedy, although I don't know why. I guess I'm getting funnier, but the whole damn thing can be very frustrating. It's usually my fault, though, when the audience doesn't laugh. Sometimes, however, they're douchebags. Other comedians too. Quick note, if you're a comedian and you read this whole blog entry, you ain't no douchebag.

Grad-Schools!

I have applied to ten grad-schools for creative writing. Here are the results so far:
Columbia: Rejected me, those ivy league assholes. Sarah Lawrence: Rejected me. I showed them my true self, and they didn't think it was good enough. I thought you cared about the students! The New School: Wait listed! Awesome… kinda. That's what me and my dad have discovered, that getting wait-listed for the new school is good… kinda. Fordham, NYU, CCNY, LIU: Brooklyn, CUNY Brooklyn, CUNY Queens, CUNY Hunter, all haven't gotten back to me yet. More updates in the future.

Until then, stay black!
Peace!
Evan

Archived Blog Mar 16 2007

2007-04-04T22:36:00.000-07:00

Friday, March 16, 2007

What Another Guess Survey?! I mean, Guess What? Another Survey!

ONE - Spell your name without an E,S,H,I,M,A:
Don't think so. Do it yourself.

TWO - Are you single?
I'm not married, but I do have a girlfriend. So, on forms, I'm single, but to all you ladies out there who are drooling over my member, sorry, I'm taken. Now get your mouths offa my cock!

THREE - What's your favorite number?
I don't have a favorite number, because that concept is utterly retarded. There are infinite numbers. What if my favorite number is 1.4158939? Or what if it's three hundred billion? What does that say about me? Nothing, you idiot! However, as a mathematician, I'd might as well supply an answer. My favorite number would be i which is the square root of -1. So suck on that, fuckdick!

FOUR - Favorite color?
Aryan White

FIVE - Least favorite color?
Black people.

SIX - What are you listening to?
I don't know! Are you assuming I have headphones on right now? What the fuck is wrong with these stupid surveys? Yeah, I wear headphones twenty-four seven, and I'm always listening to music. Especially when I shower. Damn, i'm so pissed!

SEVEN - Sins?
What about them? Is this just because the number is seven? Fuck that and fuck you! Yeah, sins are cool, I guess.

EIGHT - Are you happy with your life right now?
What the fuck do you think? Kiss my ass and suck my dick. Not necessarily in that order and not necessarily separately.

NINE - brand of computer?
Again, this is not a question. Let me ask you a question: time of day? Well, answer the question, dickhead! Answer it Goddamnit!

TEN - what was/is your favorite subject in school?Highschool or college?
Either or, I'd have to say it was whatever subject I got an A in.

ELEVEN - Do you shop at hollister/abercrombie/AE/areopostale?
Sorry, asshole. I have a soul.

TWELVE - How do you make money?:
Various ways: I temp at a wall street law firm. I steel animals from zoos and then sell them on the black market. Same with babies. I grave-rob. I suck men off in bathrooms. And of course, old fashioned mugging.

THIRTEEN - Where did you graduate from?
The University of Chicago, which is only an hour from the actual Hamburger University owned by McDonalds.

FOURTEEN - Are you outgoing?
I used to be but then I got a girlfriend.

FIFTEEN - One word to describe you?
Nutty

SIXTEEN - Do you like Mac?
What the fuck does this question even mean? Computers? Culkin? Aroni? Goddamnit! Subject then predicate! Speak English!

SEVENTEEN- Do you own big sunglasses?
No, sorry, I'm not a dumb whore. (Sorry, Adie!)

EIGHTEEN- Where do you wish you were right now?
The sweet embrace of death would be nice. Or aspen. That would be cool too.

NINETEEN - What should you be doing right now?
Filling out myspace surveys. Oh. Holy shit! I am! Sweet!

TWENTY - Do you have a crush on anyone right now?
My girlfriend, Adie Foster, and of course Osama bin Laden. He's dreamy.

THE CANS:

Can you blow a bubble?:
I once blew a guy named bubble.

Can you dance?
Only with the stars.

Can you do a cart wheel?:
Only with a dead hobo's severed penis in my ass.

Can you touch your toes?:
Yeah, who can't? What, am I a fucking retard? Or did you mean "can you touch your toes without bending your knees?" In that case, I can't do that you nazi fuck!

Can you whistle?
Yeah, but my brother can't. He's a retard. Neither can my girlfriend.

Can you wiggle your ears?:
Only with a dead hobo's severed penis in my mouth.

Can you wiggle your nose?
No. Enough with these questions.

Can you roll your tongue?:
Only with my cock in the neck-hold of a decapitated hobo corpse.

THE DIDS:

Did you ever want to be a doctor?:
Sigh. Yes. Now fuck off, dick fuck.

a fire fighter?:
Sorry, dying in 9/11 is not my idea of fun.

THE DO'S:

Do you believe in God?:
No! God is for retards.

Do you know how to swim?:
Yupsy doodles!

Do you like roller coasters?:
Fuck yeah fuck shitter!

Do you own a bike?:
Nope.

Do you think you could be on those reality shows?:
No, I don't think I'm qualified to be a no-talent, star-fucking douchebag.

Does hair loss run through your family?:
Nope! It's all mine! Choke on that shit, Patrick Stewart!

Does your car get good gas mileage?:
I don't have a car you buttfucking moron.

Does your family have family picnics?:
No, because I live in modern times, not the fifties.

THE HAVES:

Have you ever been to the ocean?:
Oh my god this survey is so retarded. The existence of this survey, to me, proves that god does not exist. How could he when people come up with idiotic questions such as these?

have you ever gone fishing?:
Only for poon. Oh, and a few times for fish.

THE HOWS:

How did you find out about Myspace?:
I read about it in an ancient script and then hired a team of researchers to go down to argentina and see if we could dig up the eons-old remains of the society that first used myspace. Most of my group was killed by militants, but I was able to fend them off with one of their own machine guns that I had obtained after snapping the poor soldier's neck. While I was fighting them off, I found the evidence of myspace. And that's the story. Oh, wait, I found out about it because it's fucking ubiquitous in popular culture you stupid piece of shit! How did you find out about TV? How did you find out about air?

How many of your friends on it have you seen?
What the fuck does that mean? Seen? You're so stupid! I can't handle it.

how much money do you have on you?
I think nine dollars.

THE LASTS:

Last person you hung out with?:
Adie

Last thing you said out loud?
"Die Hobo!"

Last thing someone said to you?
"Don't kill me, I'm just a harmless hobo!"

THE WHATS:

What is the temperature outside?:
I think around 37 degrees farenheit and suck my cock degrees celscius.

What was the last restaurant you ate at?:
Awash

the last thing you bought?:
Diet Coke from the machine

What was the last thing you had to drink?:
A redbull, asshole.

What was the last thing you watched?
My life waste away as I filled out this survey

THE WHOS:

Who is your newest friend you added to Myspace?:
Some asshole.

Who talked to you on the phone last?:
Some bitch in the Lincoln Nebraska Correctional Facility Medical Record Center

the last person you took a picture of?:
A dog who was sitting in the front seat of a car. It was hilarious!

Who was the last person to leave you a comment:
I don't know. Some bitch.

CRYING SECTION:

Ever really cried your heart out?
Yeah, I cried so hard once that my heart came out of my tear ducts. I immediately went into cardiac arrest and was taken to the hospital. Then my head exploded. After some antibiotics, I was fine.

cried yourself to sleep?
No one does that.

Ever cried on your friend's shoulder?
If by shoulder you mean erect penis, then yes.

Ever cried over the opposite sex?
That's the only thing I cry over.

Do you cry when you get an injury?
Only before I was eight, then two years ago when I had extreme sinus pain. I wish that weren't true.

Do certain songs make you cry?
Les Mis, you fucking nazi!

Do certain movies make you cry?
Gay Porno.

HAPPY SECTION:

What makes you happy?
My girlfriend, weed, TV, writing, being done with shit, other people's misery.

Do you wish you were happier?
No, I wish I was sadder you imbecile.

Is being happy overrated?
God you are so stupid.

Can music make you happy?
I hate you. Are you retarded? Seriously, are you?

LOVE SECTION:

How many times have you had your heart broken?
A few. I'm a sensitive pussy.

HATE SECTION:

Do you actually hate anyone?:
So many!

Ever made a hit list?
No, that would leave evidence.

Have you ever been on a hit list?
Oh, I'm definitely sure.

Are you a mean bully?
Who would answer "yes" to this question? I only bully verbally.

SELF ESTEEM SECTION:

Is your self esteem really low?
Depends on what aspect of my personality.

do u believe in yourself?:
No, I don't exist.

Do you wish you could be someone else?:
I wish I could have Brad Pitt's body, Oprah's money, Chris Rock's career, and my brain.

LOOK AT ME:

What is your current hair color?:
Currently it's dirty blonde.

Current piercings?
I have an industrial piercing in my left ear. I'm not gay!

Have any tattoos?
Well, I'm not a douchebag, so no.

Straight hair or curly?
Straight on head, curly on asscrack and balls.

CURRENTLY WEARING:

What color of shirt are you wearing?
Nothing

Pants?
No thank you.

Shoes?:
High Heels

Necklaces?
Pearl (that means cum!)

HAVE YOU EVER:

Hugged someone?
No, I'm a quadriplegic

talked on the phone until the sun came up?
Yes

laughed so hard you peed in your pants?
No, but I've laughed so hard I started farting a lot

THE LAST:

Person you talked to in person?
Young

Time you had a shower?
Still waiting on that first time

Do you like surveys?
I HATE them!

What kind of shampoo do you use?
See my shower answer

Do you have mental breakdowns?
Constatnly

CURRENT:

Current mood:
Uninspired, Anxious, and Depressed

current hair style:
Newscaster Chic

Current crush:
Osama bin Laden, then my girlfriend

Current desktop picture:
A guy with a dick in his own ass

Don't forget to post a comment stating whether your earlobes are attached or unattached! Thanks.

What?

Archived Blog Feb 16 2007

2007-04-04T22:34:00.000-07:00

Friday, February 16, 2007

Lamest Survey Ever

Okay this is called FIRST REACTION... type what comes to your mind first whenever you hear these 41 words. Don't think and don't go back and change. Doesn't matter how random just type it! Repost it for all of your friends.

1. Beer: Queer

2. Anorexic: I Wish I were

3. Relationships: Gay

4. Your Last Ex: Wang

5. Power Rangers: Awesome!

6. Weed: Lifeblood

9. The President: George Bush

11. Cars: Shake it up

12. Gas Prices: Homo

13. Halloween: Vagina

14. Bon Jovi: Loser

15. Religion: There is no god!

16. MySpace: Gay

17. Worst fear: Love

18. Marriage: Transgendered

19. Paris Hilton: Articulate

20. Brunettes: Blonds

21. Redheads: Blueheads

22: Politics: Totally

23: Pass the time: Living

24. One night stands: Yes, please

25. Cell Phone: Vibrating Anus

27. Pixie Stix: Titties

28. Vanilla Ice cream: Boobies

29. Port a Potties: Free Hotel

30. High school: Fuck Penn Charter

31. Pajamas: Hitler

32. Woods: Irons

33. Wet Socks: Chicago

34. Alcohol: Balls

35. The word love: Cunt

36. My best friends: Jizz

37. Money: :Spooge

38. Heartache: Chin Semen

39. Love: Osama

40. Time: bin

41. Divorce: Laden

Archived Blog Feb 15 2007

2007-04-04T22:29:00.000-07:00

Ben's Survey

----------------- Bulletin Message -----------------From: FullerDate: Feb 15, 2007 4:56 PM
YOU'RE ON MY FRIENDS LIST, I WANNA KNOW YOU... I don't care if we never talk, never liked each other, or if we already know everything about each other. Short and sweet is fine...You're on my list, so I wanna know you better!

JUST HIT REPLY TO SEND DIRECTLY TO ME IN A MESSAGE THEN, REPOST THE EMPTY QUESTIONS AS A BULLETIN.

1. Can you cook?--->
Shut up, Ben.

2. What was your dream growing up?--->
Getting my pinky broken by you.

3. What talent do you wish you had?--->
I can ejaculate blood.

4. Favorite place?--->
Bathroom.

5. Favorite vegetable?--->
Fuck you, Ben.

6. What was the last book you read--->
The Borne Bestiality

7. What zodiac sign are u ?--->
Kiss my balls.

8. Any Tattoos and/or Piercings?--->
I have a tattoo of a piercing.

9. Worst Habit?--->
Drugs.

10. Do we know each other outside of myspace?--->
Sadly, yes.

11. What is your favorite sport?--->
Broken Pinky Basketball.

12. Negative or Optimistic attitude?--->
What the fuck do you think, dickballs?

13. What would you do if you were stuck in an elevator with me?--->
Strangle then rape you.

14. Worst thing to ever happen to you?--->
Getting my pinky broken by Benjamin Fuller in my senior year of highschool.

15. Tell me one weird fact about you?--->
I have progeria.

16. Do have any pets?--->
Several dust mites.

17. Do u know how to do the macerana?--->
Kiss my ass. Leave the jokes to me.

18. What time is it where u are now?--->
69:69 pm.

19. Do you think clowns are cute or scary?--->
Neither. They're stupid.

20. If you could change one thing about how you look, what would it be???--->
I would make my penis smaller by a few feet.

21. Would you be my crime partner or my conscience?--->
I would scold while abetting.

22. What color eyes do you have?--->
Lifeless

23. Ever been arrested?--->
Yup

24. Bottle or Draft?--->
Who gives a fuck?

25. If you won $10,000 dollars today, what would you do with it?--->
Put it in the goddamned bank and spend it wisely. I'm an adult.

26. What kind of bubble gum do you prefer to chew?--->
None, fucktwat.

27. What 's your favorite bar to hang at?--->
That bar where I don't hate it. Oh wait, there is no such place.

28. Do you believe in ghosts?--->
I don't know. I'll get back to you.

29. Favorite thing to do in your spare time?--->
Drugs.

30. Do you swear a lot?--->
Hey, fucktard, what do you think?

31. Biggest pet peeve?--->
Other people.

32. In one word, how would you describe yourself?--->
Fertile.

33. Will you repost this so I can fill it out and do the same for you ?--->
Maybe.

34. Did you ever think about joining the Army?--->
Once, but then I realized I'm not a moron.

35. Are you happy with your life?--->
No comment.

36. Do you have any nicknames?--->
"Huge Cock"

37. Best thing to ever happen to you?--->
Birth.

38. Who's your best friend?--->
My sweetie-pie girlfriend.

39. What's your cell phone network?--->
T-Sperizongulartel

40. If you could make one wish, what would it be( for more wishes in not an answer )--->
For more wishes, asshole.

41. Have you lost your virginity?--->
And then some.

42. If so, when and With Who?--->
Leni Riefenstahl, in my senior year. Funny story, she wanted to film it!

43. What's your worst fear?--->
Being hit by waste jettisoned from a commercial airline.

44. What year were you born?--->
1981 AD

45. What do you like most about me?--->
That you are the same kind of asshole I am.

46. Can you lick your elbow?--->
No.

47. We're you stupid enough to just try?--->
Yup.

48. what do you wanna be when you grow up?--->
A junkie.

49. If we were locked in a room for 48 hours with nothing in it,what do you think we would do?--->
This is the same as the elevator question. I would kill you, then rape your corpse.

50. on a scale of 1 to 10 how would you rate me overall?explain your answer.--->
What the fuck does that even mean? You need units! 1 being what? 10 being what? Just for that, you get a zero.

51. How would you explain our relationship to one another?--->
Homosexual

Archived Blog Dec 21 2006

2007-04-04T22:24:00.000-07:00

Thursday, December 21, 2006

Dye Eek!

This is a survey aimed towards lesbians. I couldn't resist.

1. Are you more femme or more butch?
I'm femme all the way, baby. Where all my femmes at? Femmes 4 life!

2. Do you like bi girls?
Only if they're being straight at the time and they want to have sex with me, which is pretty much never, so no, I don't really like them.

3. Are you a good kisser?
Why don't you ask my girlfriend's clit?

4. What's your favorite thing about girls?
They have holes.

5. Least fav. thing about girls?
Some of the aforementioned holes are smelly.

6. Do you play softball?
Nah, I'm not a lesbian.

7. Which would you prefer beach or movie?
I fucking hate the fucking beach! Why is this a lesbian specific question?

8. Do you like to make the first move?
I have to, I'm the guy.

9. How many times have you been asked "how do 2 girls have sex?"
I'm not a goddamned dyke! Stop assuming that I am! It's offensive.

10. Have you been asked "are you the girl or guy in the relationship"?
Oh god, every day. I'm the girl, ok?

11. Do your parents know?
Know what? That I'm a straight male who likes to fuck chicks? Yeah, they know that.

12. Their first reaction?
"What are you doing out of the basement?"

13. Nike...Adidas...kswiss...puma?
I go barefoot, always.

14. Have you ever proposed to a girlfriend?
I've proposed that we have anal, but she said no.

15. Have you ever been cheated on?
Yes. Again, this is not a lesbian specific question.

17. What's your favorite color?
Chris Rock. Oh, I thought you said "colored."

18. Do you do any drugs or drink?
Oh god, yes.

19. Do you have any piercing?
Both of my clits, two of my cocks, and all eight of my nipples.

20. Do you ever get called by your last name or some random nickname?
Does "jew" count as a nickname? It does? Oh, then yes.

21. Do you like T.a.T.U. even though they're "fake" lesbians?
I don't like T.a.T.U. period.

22. What do you like about the person who posted this b4 u?
She's a sweetheart. Hi Angie!

23. Do you know at least one lesbian that sings and plays guitar at a local coffee shop?
Question… too… specific. Can't… think… of… funny…. Answer…

24. Have you ever seen Bound?
I ain't no dyke!

25. Lost and Delirious?
Uh, was that movie in theaters?

26. Better than Chocolate?
Damnit, I wish I was a lesbo.

27. Giver or taker?
I'm a giver. I give disappointment.

28. What stresses you out?
Goddamn near everything.

29. Favorite love movie?
Saving Private Ryan.

30. What do u think is better than chocolate?
Having a penis.

31. who was your first kiss?
Slutty Spanish exchange student named Violetta.

32. What year did you realize you were gay?
What? I ain't no queer! Back off, man! I'm scared of gay people. I'm not gay!.

33. Who's your favorite famous lesbian?
Jesus..

34. Do you love Angelina Jolie, Toni Braxton?
Are they going out, or something? I wouldn't say "love," but I do want to fuck them both.

35. Do you own a pair of cargo shorts?
Sorry, I'm not that much of a loser.

36. Polo shirts?
A fuckload..

37. Admit it, do you pop your collar?
I'll admit that this question is retarded.

38. Do you love basketball shorts?
I'm indifferent.

39. Ever wear boxers?
Yeah, I'm a dude!

40. Do you wear make up?
Only when I get in drag, which is everyday, so yes, constantly.

41. Have you ever given someone flowers?
Yuppers.

42. Wrote a poem or song for one?
Ugh! Damnit! Yes I have.

43. Had a girl give you flowers or write a poem?
No, but once I found some shitty poetry in the pocket of a hobo I had recently stabbed to death.

44. What do you love about your body?
The brain, I'd say.

45. What do you love about a girl's body?
Titties! Biggies titties! Tits! Tits! Tits! Tits! Titty titty titty! Yay titties!

Archived Blog Dec 21 2006

2007-04-04T22:16:00.000-07:00

Thursday, December 21, 2006

This Survey Was Worse Than Eating Shit

This survey was found as is, written by a moron who can't count.

EIGHT last's:

8. last cigarette:
No comment.

7. last beverage:
I stopped at the stables this morning for some fresh-squeezed horse semen.

6. last phone call:
Oh, this guy called me and Rene Russo and told me that he had kidnapped my child, so I said "Gimme back my son!" Oh wait, that wasn't me. That was Mel Gibson. Nevermind.

5. last text message:
Some mushy bullshit from the GF.

4. last CD played:
Monster Cocks. Oh wait, that's a DVD.

3. last BUBBLE bath:
Last night. I lit some scented candles, put bubbles in the bath, put on some Yanni, then I fingered the fuck out of my twat!

2. last time you cried:
I'm crying right now.

1. last meal:
Horse semen! Learn to read!

7. have you ever dated someone twice:
Nope. When I stop dating someone the first time, it's devastating.

6. have you ever been cheated on?:
Oh yeah.

5. have you ever kissed someone & regretted it?:
I live a life with no regrets. That being said, yes.

4. have you ever fallen in love?:
Hell yeah, motherfucker!

3. have you ever lost someone?:
Yeah, there was this hobo last night who was dying because I was beating him to death. When I realized that, I tried to bring him back by beating him some more, but it was no good. He will be missed.

2. have you ever been depressed:
No! Oh wait, I've been diagnosed with clinical depression.

1. have you ever been drunk and threw up:
I only throw up when I'm high. Also, after meals.

SIX things you did in the past three days:

1. Went to school:
No, I'm a grown up.

2. Went to work:
Where the fuck do you think I am now?

3. Colored:
Considering I'm not in kindergarten, no.

5. Got drunk:
I had some drinks.

6. Slept:
Are you a fucking idiot?

list FOUR people you can tell pretty much anything to --

Satan

Hitler's ghost

Osama bin Laden

Did I mention Satan?

list THREE favorite colors.

Off-white, mother-of-pearl, bone.

list TWO things you want to do before you die

Live 1000 years.

Have sex with a celebrity's corpse.

This month have you...

Made a new friend:
Sure, why not?

Fallen out of love:
Never!

Laughed until you cried:
Who the fuck does that?

Went behind your parents back:
I'm a fucking adult, you dipshit.

Met someone who changed your life?:
How the fuck would I know if my life changed in a month

Gotten close to someone:
I've gotten inside of someone.

Found out who your true friends were:
What the fuck does this even mean? Was this survey written by one of those dickheads on laguna beach?

What do you think of:

1. breaks:
They stop cars from hitting me.

2. Gay Marriage?:
Oh, I really couldn't, but thanks for the offer.

3. Lowering the drinking age?:
Yeah, let's get teenagers drunk. That's a good idea.

4. Straight, BI or gay?
I beat the shit out of them all equally.

5. Who is the best hugger that you know?:
This question is inconsistent with the previous four. The best hugger? I don't know. Some guy.

6. Do you believe in love at first sight:
Sure, why not?

7. Is there something you want to tell someone:
I want to tell the writer of this survey that they should seriously consider a brutal suicide.

8. What brand of shirt are you wearing?
Fuck you.

9. Would you kiss anyone on your top friends?
My first friend is my girlfriend. So what the fuck do you think?

10. How many people on your top friends do you know in real life?:
Who gives a fuck?

11. How many kids do you want to have?
Argh!! I'm not in high school!

12. Do you have a good relationship with your parents?
Yeah, and again, I'm not in highschool.

13. Do you wanna change your name?
These questions just get dumber and dumber. Now I'm fucking livid.

14. What did you do for your last birthday?
Got high. Next?

15. What time did you wake up today?
Who the fuck cares, goddamnit?!

16. What were you doing at midnight last night?
Watching TV with the GF.

17. Name something you CANNOT wait to do:
Murder my next hobo.

18. Last time you saw your father?:
He's dead.

19. What is one thing you wish you could change about your life?:
I would try to make it less perfect. Suck my balls.

20. Which hand do you like better?
I am about to put my head through this fucking monitor.

21.What are you listening to right now?
Do I have to be listening to music all the fucking time? Get a goddamn life!

22.Have you ever talked to Tom?
Again, suck my big fat hairy balls.

23. Have you ever donated money to a good cause?
I'm the best cause I can think of.

24. Have you ever went to a angels game?
What? What kind of stupid shit is this? This survey gets dumber with every fucking question.

25. What's the last piece of clothing you borrowed from anyone?
I don't borrow clothes, dipshit.

26. Who's getting on your nerves right now?
The writer of this survey.

27. Most visited web page?
www.gianthorsecockscummingonmyface.com

29.Coke or Pepsi?
Shut up.

30. Do you have a crush?
God fucking damnit! Fuck you! Fuck you! I have a fucking girlfriend! Holy shit!

31. Have you kissed or been kissed by anyone you never though you would?:
Some bitch.

33. Do you think there's some models/people out there that should gain a couple pounds?
This survey was clearly written by some dumb fucking highschool cunt with low self esteem. The answer is no. All supermodels are fat, even the anorexic ones. They could all stand to lose at least 20 pounds.

34. Do you enjoy your friendship with your friends?:
No, I hate my friendship with my friends. What the fuck do you think?

Archived Blog Nov 29 2006

2007-04-04T22:11:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, November 29, 2006

I Like Horses

NEXTS

1. Next person you'll kiss:
The cadaver of a recently murdered homeless person.

2. Next movie you want to see:
That movie I want to make about how I killed that homeless person and then kissed their dead body.

3. Next person you want to go out with:
Daniel Craig. He's a hottie!

5. Next time you're going out:
What do you care? You're not invited.

6. Next place you'll take vacation:
Probably prison.

7. Next thing you are going to do after filling this survey out:
Make a mud monkey.

8. Next thing you are going to eat:
A large snifter of horse semen.

9. Next time you plan to be drunk:
Tonight, sadly.

10. Next thing you are going to do outside:
Bury my next hobo victim.

11. Next person you'd like to see fill this out:
No one! It is mine and mine alone!

--------------------------------------------------------

LASTS:

1. Last kiss:
My balls.

2. Last person you hugged:
Hobo corpse.

3. Last person you spoke to:
Hobo corpse.

4. Last alcoholic beverage:
Hobo blood. It had a high level of alcohol in it. No surprises there, really.

5. Last movie:
Gay porno.

7. Last person you thought of:
Satan

8. Last school you went to:
DeVry

9. Last person you said I love you to:
Some chick.

10. Last run in with the Law:
Don't want to talk about it. Just watch the 11 o'clock news tonight.

11. Last fight you were in:
The battle for middle earth.

12. Last bar/club/concert/party you went to:
I don't know. Who gives a fuck?

13. Last person you IMed:
I don't have imer, you in-crowd hipster asshole.

14. Last thing you ate:
My own feces.

15. Last thing you saved up money for:
Five dollar blow-job. Took me a couple months.

-------------------------------------------------------

FIRSTS:

1. First kiss:
Should be coming soon!

2. First true love:
Drugs

3. First heartbreak:
When I learned that wrestling was fake.

4. First car:
The Model T horseless carriage.

5. First pet:
This fish that committed suicide by eating too much.

6. First computer:
Abacus.

7. First concert:
Something stupid.

8. First alcoholic beverage:
Listerine.

9. First time you stayed out all night:
When I was abandoned at birth and left in a dumpster.

10. First best friend:
Jesus or Satan. I forget who was first.

11. First job:
At this farm, it was my job to keep all the dirt and stuff off of the horse testicles.

12. First school:
Hard fucking knocks man, you know?

13. First movie you watched in a theater:
Harry Potter 5.

Archived Blog Nov 3 2006

2007-03-29T23:31:00.000-07:00

Friday, November 03, 2006

Pikachu is Jesus! Category: Quiz/Survey

Who Was the Last Person You....."

1. You hung out with?
My hot, big-tittied girlfriend.

2. Rode in a car with?
A couple FBI agents.

3. Went to the movies with?
My sexy, tight-pussied girlfriend.

4. Went to the mall with?
Eli Whitney

5. You talked on the phone to?
My gorgeous, nice-assed girlfriend.

6. Made you laugh?
Jon Benet Ramsey

7.Last person you told and/or they told you they Loved you?
My wonderful, ball-fondling girlfriend.

W O U L D . Y O U . R A T H E R?

1. Pierce your nose or tongue?
Well, seeing as I don't suck dick (often), my nose.

2. Be serious or be funny?
You must be the dumbest motherfucker alive. Funny, you fucking idiot.

3. Drink whole or skim milk?
I only drink tit-milk.

4. Die in a fire or get shot?
Get shot, because you didn't specify that I would die. I found a loophole, shit-eater!

5. Spend time with your parents or enemies?
What the fuck kind of dumbassed question is this? Am I just surrounded by retards? Hello? Is there anyone intelligent left? Hello?! My parents, you stupid dipshit.

A N S W E R. T R U T H F U L L Y.

1. Do you love anyone special /does anyone special love you?
My goddamned girlfriend! Are you fucking kidding me? Haven't you been reading this survey? Goddamnit!

2. Sun or moon?
Well, seeing as the Sun provides all life to the planet and is basically the creator of myself, you, and everyone else, while the moon does jack shit, I would say the sun, dickface.

3. Winter or Fall?
I guess I would prefer Winter. I like it when other people are miserable. Also, it's easier to hide hobo bodies.

4. left or right?
I am right handed, but I lean towards the left politically. Now don't you feel like an asshole for asking a stupid question?

5. 10 acquaintances or two best friends?
Again, was this survey written by a retarded gorilla? No, it couldn't be. It must have been a drunk, retarded gorilla.

6. Sunny or rainy?
Again, when other people are miserable, I'm happy. Let's go with the rain on this one. By the way, fuck you!

7. Vanilla ice cream or chocolate ice cream?
Only Nazis prefer Vanilla. You hear that, you fucking Nazis?

A B O U T . Y O U.

1. What time is it?
11:24am, November 3, 2006 AD.

2. First Name?:
Suck my fucking cock.

3. Where do you wanna live?
Inside my penis.

4. How many kids do you want?
As many as possible. I want to create a small army to do my bidding.

5. Do you want to get married?
No thanks, I'm taken. But thanks for asking.

6. Do you twirl your spaghetti or cut it?
Spaghetti is for faggots. Everyone knows it. And, to answer your question, I slurp each strand individually until I am either kissing lady or the tramp.

7. Have you ever eaten spam?
I've eaten sperm a million times. Wait, spam? Oh, yeah. I've had it once or twice.

8. Favorite ice cream?
Does anyone really give a fuck what the answer to this question is?

9. How many kinds of cereal are in your cabinet?
Zero, you assuming piece of shit.

10. Do you cook?
Only dead hobo-limbs.

11. Current mood?
Suck my balls.

IN . THE. LAST. 48 HOURS. HAVE. YOU.

1. Kissed some one?
Yup. My girlfriend and then that Asian tranny.

2. Sang?
Yup. To my girlfriend and then some Asian tranny.

3. been hugged?
Oh yeah. By my girlfriend and then this weird Asian tranny.

4. Felt stupid?
NEVER!

5. missed someone?
Yeah, my girlfriend. Not so much the Asian tranny.

6. Danced Crazy?
Eat shit, asshole.

8. Gotten your hair cut?
I haven't gotten my goddamned hair cut in six fucking months.

9. Cried?
Crying's only good for bringing pokemon back to life. [For an in-depth analysis of this phenomen, see Pokémon: The First Movie (1999)]

10. Lied:
Only to that hobo when I said I wouldn't murder him.

Archived Blog Oct 23 2006

2007-03-29T23:25:00.000-07:00

Monday, October 23, 2006
Same survey again! Fuck my ass! (different answers)
The Dirty Thirty... 30 unknown facts about yourself:

1. What does your MySpace headline mean?
It means I'm not gay! Why does everyone keep thinking that I am?

2. Elaborate on your default photo:
I'm giving myself bunny ears. That's my genius idea, I came up with it. Don't steal it, or I will take a dump in the upper part of your toilet, so when it flushes, it gets filled with dump.

3. What's your middle name[s]?:
Spencer.

4. What is your current relationship status?
I have a beautiful, intelligent girlfriend with big titties.

5. What are you wearing right now?
A standard NASA issued space-suit. It's a real bitch typing right now.

6. What is your current problem?
My life is a complete failure.

7. Who do you love most?
Osama bin Laden

8. Who makes you most happy?
Hobos, because they let me murder them.

9. Are you musically talented?
Very much so. I would elaborate, but you would probably be too interested.

10. If you could go back in time, and change one thing, what would you change?
Time is a whole, according to special and general relativity. Thus, any change that you can make is part of time, and always has been. Thus, there is no such way to change an event that just is. That is to say, if one went back in time, they would have to change events such that, in the future, they would have to go back in time again to change the same thing. If they don't change events to do that, then there was no purpose for them to go back in time in the first place, so they never did it. If they do change something, then it was always like that, and therefore, going back in time was already part of the fabric of time itself. Thus, there is no way to change anything, you ass-fucking piece of shit!

11. If you MUST be an animal for ONE day, what would it be?
Tapeworm

12. Ever have a near death experience?
My whole fucking life is a near-death experience.

13. Can you dance?
I can dance like an idiot.

14. What's the name of the song that's stuck in your head right now?
I think I filled out this survey before! Again, there is no song stuck in my fucking head! Do people normally always have a song stuck in their heads? Wait, don't answer, I already no the answer: They Don't! You are a fucking asshole dipshit that doesn't deserve for me to fill our your worthless survey.

15. Who did you cut and paste this from, and would you make out with them?
Kristyn. I never made out with her, but I kissed her in the past. I probably would make out with her, if I weren't spoken for by my wonderful girlfriend.

16. Name someone with the same birthday as you.
Nobody. I'm the only one with my birthday.

17. Have you ever destroyed someone's property?
Most hobos don't have property, by definition. But, you could say that someone owns their own life, so yes, I destroyed their property, meaning that I killed them. Brutally.

18. Have you ever been in a fight?
Some of the hobos try to defend themselves, and sometimes I have to struggle with them a little before I finally finish the job.

19. Have you ever sang in front of a big audience?
If "sang' is a euphemism for "jerked off," then yes, I've done it a bunch of times.

20. What ATTRACTS YOU TO THE OPPOSITE sex?
Titties.

21. What do you usually order from Starbucks?
Goddamnit, the last time I answered this question, I said that not everyone goes to starbucks all the time. Haven't you learned anything, fuckhead? God, you are so fucking stupid.

22. Do you have a crush on one of your myspace friends?
Only the dudes.

23. Ever had a drunken night in Mexico?
Why the fuck would I go to the worst country ever?

24. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?
Everyone has said that.

25. Do you still watch kiddy movies or TV shows?
I'm a fucking adult. That being said, I beat off to teletubbies daily.

26. Did you have braces?
No, I'm not a goddamned freak!

27. Are you comfortable with your height?
Not at all! I'm not short! Shut up!

28 Do you consider yourself adventurous?
I licked a girl's butthole. What do you think?

30. What's your favorite smell?
Hobo death.

Archived Blog Oct 19 2006

2007-03-29T23:20:00.000-07:00

Thursday, October 19, 2006
This survey is for girls! Current mood: ditzy

1. Someone knocks on your door at 2 a.m., who do you want it to be?
Someone with a good fucking excuse.

2. Your boss tells you he/she will give you a $20 raise if you'll do your job naked, do you stay
and take the raise?
Twenty bucks an hour? Sure. Twenty bucks a year? Sure. Do I do my job naked now? Yup.

3. Put yourself in a nutshell:
Fuck you.

4. Ever seen a ghost?
Only abductees see ghosts.

5. Happy with your body?
Suck my cock.

6. A reason you would move to Iceland:
A. Because someone put a gun to my head.
B. Because someone paid me an inordinate amount of money.
C. To fuck Bjork.

7. A place you've lived that you miss:
I lived in Amsterdam for ten days. I miss the shit out of it.

8. A job you would never do, no matter how much you were paid:
Military.

9. A band/group you thought was cool when you were 13:
Stone temple pilots. They suck balls.

10. You have a nightmare, who's the first person you think to call?
No one, what am I, a pussy? Fuck you for asking that.

11. Wanna have kids before you're 30?
Nah, even if it means they'll be fucking retards.

12. A memory from high school:
I got suspended and I hate various teachers and headmasters. Earl J Ball III, Doc Coleman, Mr. Franek.

13. Ever had a crush on one of your friend's parents?
Not really.

14. Naughtiest thing you've done at work:
Myspace surveys.

15. Do you look more like your mom, or your dad?
I look like a combination of the two, you fucking idiot.

16. Something you've always wanted to learn how to do:
Become a killing machine.

17. Still friends with your exes?
Only the ones that don't hate me. Which is none of them.

18. Where you'd like to be in 10 years:
Named the world's #1 hobo-murderer.

19. Something you learned about yourself this year:
I have medical problems.

20. What do you want for your birthday?
Happiness and anal sex.

1. NAME THREE THINGS YOU DID TODAY?1) Woke up.2) Came to work.3) Took an enormous dump.

2. LAST ITEM YOU BOUGHT YOURSELF.
Weed.

3. DO U HAVE AN ORNAMENT HANGING FROM UR REARVIEW MIRROR?
I don't have a car, you fuck ass.

4.WHAT DID YOU HAVE FOR BREAKFAST?
Coffee.

5. NAME A CELEB YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON:
Christina Fucking Ricci. I want to fuck her until she pukes.

6. NAME THE LAST THREE BANDS YOU SAW LIVE?
Radiohead, and some shitty friend's bands.

7. HOW MANY HOURS OF SLEEP DO YOU GET A NIGHT?
Seven to eight.

8. HAVE YOU EVER BEEN TIED UP?
By terrorists. I escaped and killed them all.

9. WHAT DO YOU WISH YOU WERE DOING RIGHT NOW?
Sleeping, skiing, sailing, or being in Amsterdam.

10. WHOS THE FIRST PERSON IN UR PHONE BOOK ON UR CELL?
This random bitch I never fucked.

11. LAST TIME YOU WITNESSED A FIGHT?
When that strong hobo was struggling with me last night. Didn't help him out that much though.

13. DO YOU LIKE YOUR HAIR PULLED?
I'm a fucking dude, you idiot.

14. NAME THREE PLACES YOU WOULD LIKE TO TRAVEL TO:1) Amsterdam2) Japan3) Australia

15. DO YOU KNOW HOW TO ICE SKATE?
I can get by, but it's not something I specialize in. Oh yeah, fuck you!

17. NAME SOMETHING THAT YOU LIKE THATS OUT OF THE ORDINARY?
People shitting in my mouth. And hobo-murder.

18. IS BIGGER REALLY BETTER?
No! Shut up!

19. WHAT DO YOU THINK OF BRAD PITT?
He's a hot piece of man-ass.

20. Name a friend you have the most in common with?
What the fuck do you care?

21. WHAT COLOR ARE YOUR TOENAILS?
Goddamnit, this is a fucking girl's survey, isn't it?

22. Last person you talked with on the phone?
This schizophrenic guy.

23. DO YOU OWN ANYTHING WITH A SKULL ON IT?
Yeah, my skeleton.

24. HAVE YOU TRAVELED TO EUROPE?
Yuppers. Amster-fucking-dam.

25. NAME THREE PEOPLE YOU WOULD TRUST WITH YOUR LIFE?
Jack Bauer, Spider-man, Bill Clinton.

26. LAST MOVIE YOU WATCHED?
The Departed. It was so good, I shat myself.

27. WHERE WERE YOU WHEN YOU HAD YOUR FIRST KISS?
A good friend's backyard with a slutty Spanish exchange student.

29. LAST BOARD GAME YOU PLAYED?
Something dumb

30. LEATHER OR LACE?
Suck my balls.

31. EVER HAD A BLACK EYE?
I gave myself one by accident on Nov. 2nd 2004. I was opening a wine bottle.

32. WHERE DO YOU RENT YOUR MOVIES
On demand.

33. HAVE YOU EVER WORN FISH NET STOCKINGS?
Goddamnit.

Archived Blog Oct 19 2006

2007-03-29T23:12:00.000-07:00

This survey is fucking retarded. Observe. Current mood: creative

This is The Guilty Game. Next to the questions, put your answers as either guilty or innocent. Guilty if you have, innocent if you haven't. The number of guilties you have, is the number of years in prison you are sentenced to. Re-post with a headline stating how many years in prison you have....

1. Dated outside your race?
Guilty. Just once.

2. Gotten a hickey?
Guilty and then some.

3. Dated your best friend?
That's a big guilty right there.

4. Sung in the shower?
Guilty. Not singing in the shower is gay.

5. Spit in someone's drink?
Innocent! That's something that Hitler would do.

6. Dumped someone?
Guilty and then some.

7. Opened your Christmas presents early?
I'm Jewish you fucking Nazi. Innocent.

8. Lied to a friend?
Guilty again. I'm a horrible person.

9. Seen "The Goonies" more than 10 times?
Innocent. Not more than ten times. That movie's not even that good.

10. Had more than five REAL(over 4 months) bf/gfs?
Innocent, I guess. I've had a few though.

11. Played a computer game for more than 5 hours?
Guilty. Longer than that.

12. Ran through the sprinklers naked?
Fuck this bullshit question. Innocent.

13. Ate food that fell on the floor?
Guilty. I usually wipe food on the floor before I eat it to give it flavor.

14. Went outside naked?
Guilty. I've been outside naked before.

15. Flashed somebody?
No, I'm a dude. Innocent.

16. Mooned somebody?
Innocent on this one too. No one wants to be subjected to my ass.

17. Been on stage?
Guilty, like a billion times.

18. Made someone cry?
Guilty, like a trillion times.

19. Been in a parade?
Guilty, like ten times.

20. Been in a school play?
Guilty, like one times.

21. Drank a beer?
What, is this a trick question? I'm guilty.

22. Gotten detention?
Guilty on that one.

23. Been on a plane?
This is the 21st century, idiot. Of course I'm guilty.

24. Been on a cruise?
No, I'm not old or gay. Innocent.

25. Broken into a house?
Innocent.

26. Gotten a tattoo?
Tattoos are for faries. Innocent.

27. Gotten piercings?
Guilty as charged, bitch.

28. Cried so hard you threw up?
What? That doesn't happen. Innocent.

29. Gotten into a shouting match?
Guilty.

30. Been skinny dipping?
Guilty.

31. Spun yourself in circles to get dizzy on purpose?
Guilty. Every kid has done this, you fucking imbecile.

32. Laughed so hard it hurt?
What the hell does this cliché even mean? Fuck you! Guilty.

33. Tripped on your own feet?
Guilty.

34. Cried yourself to sleep?
Innocent. What, do I look like a suicide case?

35. Cried in public?
Guilty. I'm a puss puss.

36. Thrown up in public?
Oh yeah. Guilty.

37. Lied to your parents?
Oh yeah. Guilty.

38. Skipped class?
I've been to college, so Guilty.

Now put the number of guilty as years in prison: 25 years. This survey is fucking stupid. Why would I go to prison for being on an airplane?

Archived Blog Oct 9 2006

2007-03-28T23:16:00.000-07:00

Monday, October 09, 2006
Stick your balls in my ass! Current mood: Chunky Category: Chunky Quiz/Survey

1. What's your favorite word?
Jon Benet Ramsey

2. What's your favorite food?
Pussy

3. What's your favorite drink?
The blood of the innocent

4. What's your favorite color?
Hot pink

5. What's your favorite city?
Atlantis

6. Who's your favorite actor?
Me!

7. What's your favorite band?
Radiohead, silly.

8. What's your favorite movie?
Porno

9. What's your favorite song?
German National Anthem

10. What's your favorite book?
Penis-transplants for Dummies

11. Who did you last kiss?
My hot girlfriend.

12. Where did you last sleep?
A dumpster.

13. When was the last time you cried?
I'm constantly crying.

14. When was the last time you rode a roller-coaster?
I don't know. Who cares?

15. What was the last movie you saw?
Porno!

16. What did you last eat?
A brownie from Fairyland.

17. When was the last time you flew?
In an airplane? Amsterdam. Uhhh… 3/2005.

18. Who was your last boyfriend/girlfriend?
Some supermodel.

19. Who was the last person you talked to on the phone?
My motherfucking hot girlfriend!

20. When was the last time you voted?
2004 General Election.

21. How tall are you?
Five nine and one quarter, dickshitter.

22. How old are you?
None of your goddamned business.

23. What do you do for a living?
Rich people pay me to let them shit in my mouth.

24. What do your parents do for a living?
My mother is a Cambodian sweatshop manager, and my father works in the sweatshop.

25. Are you single?
Usually I am, but not right now. I am, however, unmarried. So shove that up your ass.

26. Are you straight or gay?
I'm gay. Straight! I mean straight! Why would I say gay?

27. What was the last country you visited?
The Netherlands! Weed weed weed!

28. Where were you born?
Filthydelphia.

29. What were your first words?
"More peas."

30. What do you want your last words to be?
"Hey, who just shot me in the face?"

Archived Blog Oct 9 2006

2007-03-28T23:11:00.000-07:00

I didn't really follow the rules on this one. Sue me, asshole. Current mood: Fatty Category: Fatty Quiz/Survey
You Can Only Answer yes or no
Body:
1. You can only say Yes or No!
2. You are NOT ALLOWED to explain ANYTHING unless someone messages you and asks!
3. Repost this as the Yes/ No Game!
4. For Evan Jacobs only, he can answer in short form with hobo-related information.

Kissed someone on your top friends?
Yes, and then some. Although this isn't related to hobo-killing, I do have to supply a long answer because I hate playin' by the rules.

Danced in front of your mirror naked?
Yes, I get myself psyched up before I go out on the hobo-prowl.

Ever told a lie?
Yes. No, not really, I'm lying.

Tripped on mushrooms?
Oh yes.

Done extasy?
I've done ecstasy, if that's what you mean. I usually do it before a night of wild-animal hobo killing.

Had feelings for someone who didn't have them back?
Story of my motherfucking life.

Been arrested?
Big yes on that one.

Kissed a picture?
I've gone all the way with a picture.

Had sex at work?
Not straight sex.

Ran a red light?
No, and I've never littered or jay-walked either.

Been fired from a job?
Actually, no. I just get laid-off.

Sang karaoke?
Yeah.

Done something you told yourself you wouldn't?
Everytime I murder a hobo.

Laughed until something you were drinking came out your nose?
I don't laugh.

Kissed in the rain?
Yeah, so what?

Sang in the shower?
Yup.

Made love on a roof top?
No, are you fucking nuts? There are no beds or couches on rooftops.

You want me to fuck on tar?
Fuck that shit.

Been pushed into a pool with all your clothes on?
No, and anyone who would do that to be would surely be spending some time with my hobo buddies.

Broken a bone?
Yup.

Slept naked?
I've been awake naked too.

Blacked out from drinking?
No, I'm not a whore.

Played a prank on someone?
Yeah, I once told this hobo I wouldn't kill him. Ha!

Felt like killing someone?
Have you not been reading this survey?

Ever been madly IN love?
I've been in love with killing hobos.

Ever lost someone you loved?
I don't really love the hobos. It's more of a hatred.

Made your girlfriend/boyfriend cry?
Only from severe beatings.

Had sex more than 6 times in one day?
I've never done anything more than six times in one day. Except crapped, maybe.

Had Mexican jumping beans for pets?
An inanimate object cannot be a pet, numbnuts.

Been in a band?
High school band.

Played strip poker?
No one wants to see me naked!

Donated Blood?
Oh yeah. Not always mine, though.

Video taped yourself having sex?
Remember what I said about strip poker?

Still love someone you shouldnt?
Maybe. Not sure on that one.

Like someone now?
My gf.

The recent person you liked has a girlfriend/boyfriend now?
Yeah, I'm her boyfriend.

Have a tattoo?
No, tattoos are stupid.

Ever cheated on girlfriend/boyfriend?
Nope.

Ever been cheated on by girlfriend/boyfriend?
Hell yeah, motherfucker!

Archived Blog Oct 4 2006

2007-03-28T23:08:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

This time, a survey! Yay! Hail Satan!
Current mood: sick
Category: Quiz/Survey

What's the story behind your MySpace song?
The story is that I'm not a fucking douchebag, so I don't have a MySpace song. Was that a good enough story for you, you fucking nitwit?

2. What month were you born in?

June, the purest month. All other months must be eradicated.

3. Where do you live?

Harlem, where I'm needed.

4. What's in your wallet?

Federal Breast Inspector card.

Owl Wallet Light.

Several Saddam dinars.

Mucus.

The antidote.

5. Dream car:
A large back-hoe. Those things are awesome.

or

An RV! Those things are awesome.

6. What type of jewelry do you wear?
I am not a homosexual, goddamnit.

That being said, I have an industrial piercing. It is surgical stainless steel, the finest in the land.

7. What type of underwear do you wear?
A pink, lace, Victoria's Secret thong with a vibrator on the inside. Sometimes, instead of the vibrator, I use metal spikes.

8. What's your favorite book?

Where's Waldo

or

The Idiot's Guide to Murdering Hobos

9. What's your favorite movie?
Pornography: pick one.

or

I Killed a Hobo: A Killentific Hobomentary

10. What are wearing?
Oh! You're turning me on. I'm wearing an oversized foxy lady t-shirt. Underneath is a bra made out of two other bras. The left breast is an A-cup, the right is a C-cup. My underwear is basically toilet paper that is still stuck to me, and I'm wearing cut-off tuxedo pants. On my feet: shoe boxes. Are you hard now?

11. What are you wanting?

Besides no one to find that mangled hobo-corpse I deposited last night? Well, I want world peace. Just kidding. Fame and money will do just fine. Also, a six-pack would be nice.

12. The last thing you ate?

Besides the sweet nectar that is the flesh of a rotting hobo-corpse? A frozen semen-popsicle.

13. Something you are afraid of:
Besides not ever being able to kill a hobo again? I'm afraid of little school-girls.

14. Do you like candles?
Only when I'm cramming them into my poop-chute.

15. Do you believe in love?
Well, I love slaying homeless men.

16. Do you believe in sole mates?
First of all, shoes always come in two.
Second of all, fish fuck.

Third of all, I always thought it was a "soul-mate." But I think that "Sole-mate" makes more sense, don't you?

Fourth of all, suck my fucking cock!

17. Do you sleep naked?
What am I, a fetus?

18. Did you do well in school?

I'm smart, asshole. I didn't do well because I didn't feel like it. Not because I couldn't. Why don't you go fuck a dick?

19. Do you consider yourself a Democrat or a Republican?
Democrat. Republicans are evil pieces of shit that should be punished for their beliefs by being strapped to a rocket and fired into the sun.

20. Do you like tattoos?
Why would I like the stupidest thing ever?

21. What's something you wish you could understand better?
Nothing. I understand everything perfectly.

22. What's your take on Global Warming?

It's getting colder these days, so clearly, Global Warming is bullshit.

23. Do you have a bf/gf?

Like, a she-male? Seriously though, I have a girlfriend. Fuck you!

24. Got any plans for the weekend?
I gotta go to Coney Island on Saturday. On the other days, I need to get my life together.

25. Who do you most miss?
Abu Musab al-Zarqawi

This question is dumb.

26. What does your MySpace headline mean?
It means I'm not gay, faggot!

27. Elaborate on your default photo:

Even I don't give a fuck about my default photo. Get some hobbies, cockmaster.

28. Who is the first person on your top 8?
Jon Douglas. He's a queer.

29. What's your relationship with the people in your top 4?
Some are sexual, some go on hobo hunts.

30. What's your opinion of President Bush?
I don't think he's as dumb as every other dumbass thinks he is. He's certainly not a good president. But, he has never come down against hobo-murder.

31. What's your favorite country?
What the fuck do you think? USA! Second is the Netherlands. You can smoke weed legally there.

32. What's your favorite drink?
Three way tie between semen, urine, and blood.

33. What's your favorite food?

Besides the sweet, sweet flesh of a recently deceased bum?

Cheese fries.

34. Are you musically inclined?
Hell yeah, I am.

35. Which shoe goes on first?
Even if I knew the answer to this question, who the fuck could possibly care?

36. If you could go back in time, and change something....

Oh, you think you're so clever with the time travel question, don't you? Well, traveling back in time to change something would require that the future from that point play out such that you need to go back in time to change it. Otherwise, you would have no reason to go back and change it. That is, events in the past must lead up to your urge to change the past, thus, if you had changed the past, it would already be history, and the change would have already been made, and therefore, you wouldn't have to go back in time to change it. Therefore we have a paradox. Furthermore, quantum physics forbids it. So, chew on that, motherfucker!

37. Ever have a near death experience?

My whole fucking life is a near-death experience.

38. Name an obvious quality you have?

Big-cockitude.

39. What's the name of the song that's stuck in your head right now?

What? Are you implying that most people have songs stuck in their heads every waking second? 'Cause they don't. You should get that checked out, because it is most likely a brain tumor.

40. Favorite female celebrity:
Amy Sedaris is cool. Otherwise, this question is just as stupid as having a favorite female celebrity.

41. Favorite male celebrity:
Abu Musab al-Zarqawi. This question is also stupid.

42. Name someone with the same birthday as you:
God

43. Do you have a crush on someone:
No, I just wanna fuck people.

44. Have you ever vandalized someone's private property?
Hell yeah, bitch!

45. Been in a fight?
Does ruthlessly and brutally murdering a hobo count as a fight?

46. Have you ever sung in front of a large audience?

Whatever… this survey is tiresome.

47. What's the first thing you notice about the preferred sex?
TITTIES! TITTIES! TITTIES!

48. What do you usually order from Starbucks

Don't fucking assume I go to Starbucks, dickhead. God, you are such an asshole. I hope you die alone and painfully.

49. Say something totally random about you?

Here's something totally random: Suck my balls.

50. Has anyone ever said you looked like a celebrity?

The Culkins, Harry Potter, James Spader, Mr. Ed: Take your pick.

51. How old are you?
What a fucking stupid question. It's on my myspace page, you fucking imbecile.

52. Do you wear a watch?
Nope, gotta cell phone.

53. Do you have anything pierced?
My ear, goddamnit!

54. Do you have any tattoos?
No, they're retarded.

55. Do you like pain?
No one likes pain by definition! Pain is synonymous with suffering. Suffering is being in a situation that is not pleasurable, that you don't like. So, if I liked pain, it wouldn't be pain, now would it? God damn, you are so fucking stupid it blows my fucking mind.

56. Do you like to shop?
Sometimes.

57. What was the last thing you paid for with cash?
Drugs.

58. What was the last thing you paid for with a credit card?
Drugs.

59. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?
Some receptionist cunt at my doctor's office.

60. What is on your desktop background?
A picture of my house. Fuck you!

61. Do you like redheads?
If they have vaginas, I do.

62. Do you know any twins?

Yeah, my balls.

63. Do you have any weird relatives?
What the fuck does this even mean? Goddamnit.

64. What was the last movie you watched?
The last three I watched were: half of alien versus predator, half of Friday the 13th six, and all of jackass two. All oscar winners.

65. What was the last book you read?
Please, enough with the questions. Just stop already.

66. Did you or do you go to college?
University of Chicago. What did I just say? No more questions!

67. What is your favorite pair of pants that you own?
Argh!! Some jeans, I don't know.

68. What is your favorite day of the week?
Listen, asshole, I don't have a favorite for every possible category. I don't have a favorite dog breed, I don't have a favorite knife manufacturer, I don't have a favorite pair of shoes, and I don't have a fucking favorite day of the fucking week!

69. What are you going to do after you answer this question?

Slit my fucking wrists.

Archived Blog Sept 28 2006

2007-03-28T00:30:00.000-07:00

Thursday, September 28, 2006
Fermat's last theorem? More like Fermat's last QUEEREM!
Current mood: Satan-worshipy
Category: Satan-worshipy Quiz/Survey

So far, in 2006

1. Have you had more than 5 different serious relationships?
How serious can a relationship be if it's two months long? Dumbass. And yes, I have.

2. Have you had your birthday
Affirmative, butt-pipe.

3. Been to church?
God does not exist.

4. Cried yet?
Every time I watch "Sex and the City!"

6. Pulled an all nighter?
This isn't college, ass-monkey.

7. Drank Starbucks?
Unavoidable.

8. Went shopping?
No, I haven't spent any money in ten months, you fucking dipshit.

9. Been camping?
Camping's for jerks.

10. Been to the beach?
Actually, I haven't this year. Fuck the beach!

11. Bought something for over $200?
Oh yeah.

12. Met someone?
Yes, including the numerous hobos.

13. Been out of state?
Oh yeah.

14. Gone Snowboarding?
Do I look like Shaun White to you? Go fuck a cock.

[[Have you...]]

1. Hugged someone?
What? What the fuck kind of retarded question is this?

2.Slept in someone elses bed?
Hell yeah, playa!

3. Snuck someone over?
I'm 25.

4. Snuck out of your own house?
This survey must be for high-schoolers. I'm such a loser.

5. Gotten drunk?
I'm drunk right now.

7. Gotten a car?
Fuck this high-school question bullshit.

8. Gone over your cell phone bill?
My mommy pays for it.

9. Been called a whale?
Only when people are referring to my cock.

10. Drove somewhere?
Only while drunk.

11. Done something you regret?
Well, there was this one hobo I didn't murder… Maybe I'll find him again one day.

[[Lasts...]]

Last Thing you bought?
Weed

Last Person you hugged?
Hobo's corpse

Last Person to call you?
The gf

Last time you took a shower?
Labor Day

When was the last time you felt stupid?
Never happened.

Who was the last person you danced with?
Dancing's for faggots. That being said, my ex-boyfriend.

Who did you last yell at?
This cunt at my work.

What did you do today?
Worshipped Lucifer, prince of Hades.

TEN FACTS

01. Hometown:
Filthadelphia, loser.

02.Natural hair color?
Caucasian, dick.

04. Hair style
Long newscaster, bitch.

05. Eye color?
Green, motherfucker!

06. Height:
Five nine and one quarter, shit-eater.

07. Pets:
There are a few cockroaches, but I usually kill them before I can name them. Also, I kidnapped a gorilla from the Bronx zoo and put him in my closet. His name is coughy, cause he coughs a lot. It's cute.

08. Mood:
Wishing I were high and rich.

TEN THINGS ABOUT YOUR LOVE LIFE

01. Have you ever been in love:
A few times.

02. Do you believe in love:
What the fuck did I just say? God damn you piss me off you dirty fuck-shit.

03. Why did your LAST relationship fail:
I wasn't attractive enough for her and a little too insane for her. Bitch.

04. Have you ever been heartbroken:
Fuck you.

05. Have you ever broken someone's heart:
Haha! Hell yeah, mothafucka! And then some.

06. Have you ever fallen for your best friend?
Just like a million times.

07. Have you ever loved someone but never told them:
I usually tell them.

08. Are you afraid of commitment?:
I'm not afraid of commitment at all! I am, however, afraid of commitment.

10. Have you ever had a secret admirer:
If it was secret, how the fuck would I know about it? What a retarded question.

TEN THINGS

01. Love or lust:
Love, then lust, then hobo-murder, then sleep.

02. Beer or liquor?
I like weed.

03. Night or day:
11:00pm to 2:00am is my time to shine, dick hole.

04. One night stands or relationships?
Relationships with one-night-stands in between. Yay promiscuity!

05. Tv or internet:
TV. This was a close one. I would die for both.

06. Pepsi or Coke:
Diet Pepsi. It's fabulous!

07. Wild night out or romantic night in:
Whatever. As long as I get high.

08. Black or white.
I hate black things! Especially people! White power! White power! That being said, black.

TEN EMOTIONS

01. Are you missing someone right now:
A bunch of people.

02. Are you happy?
Shut the hell up.

03. Are you talking to anyone right now:
I'm a deaf mute.

04. Are you eating:
Does a bucket of horse-semen count as food?

05. Are you german:
Fuck nazis!

06. Are you Irish:
Fuck the Irish. Potato eating drunks!

07. Are you French:
Fuck the French. Surrendering frog-eating smoking drunks!

08. Are you Italian:
Fuck the Italian. Mobstering murdering pasta eating drunks!

09. Are your parents still married?
Hell yeah, asshole! Fuck you!

10. Do you like someone right now:
Damn straight.

Archived Blog Sept 28 2006

2007-03-28T00:12:00.000-07:00

Thursday, September 28, 2006
A survey! Hooray for change! Jew balls!
Current mood: Anti-semitic
Category: Anti-semitic
Quiz/Survey body:

The Dirty Thirty... 30 unknown facts/secrets about yourself:

1. In two words, explain what ended your last relationship?
Shallow grave

2. When was the last time you shaved your legs?
I pay Asian women to do that.

3. What were you doing this morning at 8am?
Worshipping Satan.

4. What were you doing 15 minutes ago?
Worshipping Satan.

5. Are you any good at math?
Better than you are, asshole.

6. Your prom night?
Well, I took this semi-attractive hobo, but she thought she was better than me. Needless to say, I ended the night by losing my virginity to a German Shepard.

7. Do you have any famous ancestors?
I'm Jewish, so, I don't know, what about… uhhh… Jesus! Motherfucker.

8. Have you ever taken out a loan to pay for school?
I've only ever taken a loan out to pay for sex.

9. Do you know the words to the song on your myspace profile?
If I did, that would mean that I'd be a stupid asshole who puts a song on my myspace page. I resent the implication. Fuck you, bitch.

10. Last thing received in the mail?
Hobo Homicide Monthly

11. How many different beverages have you drank today?
If you count semen and urine, then two.

12. Do you ever leave messages on people's answering machines?
Fuck that. I don't talk to robots.

13. Who did you lose your CONCERT virginity to?
Technically, third eye blind. But I lost my concert anal virginity to Billy Joel. He has a huge concert cock.

14. Do you draw your name in the sand when you go to the beach?
Only when I have Down's Syndrome.

15. What's the most painful dental procedure you've had?
When I brushed my teeth this morning. It turned out I was using a lemon zester instead of my toothbrush. Silly me!

16. What is out your back door?
The FBI. They listen to everything I say. Oh wait, I don't have a backdoor, assfuck.

17. Any plans for Friday night?
Friend's birthday party then some relaxing hobo murders.

18. Do you like the ocean?
That's gay.

19. Have you ever received one of those big tins of 3 different kinds of popcorn for Christmas?
I don't live in a fucking Norman Rockwell painting, dickhead.

20. Have you ever been to a planetarium?
Hell yeah, playa!

22. Something you are excited about?
The feeling you get when you see the surprise on the hobo's face when you pull your knife out.

23. What is your favorite flavor of JELLO?
Goddamn, that's a gay question.

24. Are any of your great-grandparents still alive?
I was created in a laboratory.

25. Describe your keychain:
A fucking metal circle. This is the stupidest survey I have ever wasted my time on.

26. Where do you keep your change?
Up my ass, you penis-licking lesbian.

27. When was the last time you spoke in front of a large group of people?
Last Wednesday. I bombed like the israeli airforce.

28. What kind of winter coat do you have?
What the fuck? Who gives a shit?

29. What was the weather like on your graduation?
It was retarded, much like this survey.

30. Do you sleep with the door to your room open or closed?
Closed. I'm not a goddamned baby.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THE UNCOMFORTABLE SURVEY.
(lets see if you can get through it. if not, you're too scared about your past)

-How many boyfriends/girlfriends have told YOU that THEY love you?
About seven of the girlfriends and all of the boyfriends.

-Have you ever thought that you were going to marry a person?:
Well, I'm not going to marry a monkey.

-Have you ever loved someone so much that it hurt?:
Yes, you fucking fag.

-Have you ever made a boyfriend or girlfriend cry?:
Haha. Oh yeah.

-Are you happier single or in a relationship?:
I am usually less miserable in a relationship, cocksucker.

-Have you ever been cheated on?:
Twice, dickballs.

-What is your favorite thing about the opposite sex?:
Titties!!!

-Have you ever had your heart broken?:
Yeah. Thanks for the memories, you shit-eating baby-raper.

-Have you ever broken someone's heart?:
Haha. Oh yeah.

-Talk to any of your exes?:
Like, at a séance or something?

-If you could go back in time and change things with any of your ex's would you?:
I'd make them all hotter.

-Do you believe that you are a good boyfriend or girlfriend?:
I'm a good boyfriend, but an even better girlfriend.

-Have you dated people who were not good for you?:
Yes. I can't even think of a joke this survey is so goddamned stupid.

-Have you been in an abusive relationship?:
If a woman talks back to you, you have to push her down a flight of stairs. It's not abusive. I resent the implication.

-Have you dated someone older then you?:
No, every person I date was born at the exact same minute as me.

-Younger?:
See previous answer, cockslit.

-Do you believe everyone deserves a second chance?:
Everyone except for Jewish people and Black people.

-Believe in love at first sight?:
I didn't until I saw your mother's hairy twat.

-Do you want to get married?:
You already asked this question you fucking moron.

-Do you have something to say to any of your exes?:
You're welcome.

-Ever stolen someone's boyfriend or girlfriend:
Yes, literally. It's called kidnapping.

-Ever liked someone's boyfriend or girlfriend?:
You're a fucking idiot.

-Does heartbreak really feel as bad as it sounds?:
Oh my god, this was the stupidest, gayest survey I have ever taken. Fuck you for making me waste my time like this. I want it back!

Archived Blog Sept 19 2006

2007-03-28T00:01:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, September 19, 2006
Another Fucking Survey! Fuck you! Current mood: Hobo-Killy

Apparently the rules for this survery are that the answers must be two word descriptions of the word given.

1. Yourself:
Lindbergh Baby

2. Your boyfriend/girlfriend (husband/wife):
Horny Slut

3.Your hair:
Unholy Mess

4. Your mother:
Stupid Bitch

5. Your Father:
Lovable Molester

6. Your Favorite Item(s):
Drugs Drugs

7. Your dream last night:
Trebek Fornication

8. Your Favorite drink:
Horse Semen

9. Your Dream Car:
Honda Civic

10. The Room You Are In:
Brothel Basement

11. Your Ex:
Dead Body

12. Your fear:
Black People

13. Where you want to be in 10 years:
Lohan's Vagina

14. Who you hung out with last night:
Murdered Hobo

15. What You're Not:
Wearing Underwear

16. Your Best Friend:
Drugs Drugs

17. One of Your Wish List Items:
Smaller Penis

18. The Last Thing You Did:
Killed Hobo

19. What You Are Wearing:
Leather Tuxedo

20. Your Favorite Weather:
Dumb Question

21. Your Favorite Book:
Where's Waldo

22. The Last Thing You ate
Horse Semen

23. Your Life:
Answering Surveys

24. Your Mood:
Tired, Poopy

25. Your body:
Next Question

26. What are you thinking about right now:
Next Hobo

27. Your Crush:
Justin Timberlake

28. What are you doing at the moment:
Eating Feces

29. Your summer schedule:
Kill Hobos

30. Who will answer this next?
My Cock

Archived Blog Sept 13 2006

2007-03-27T23:49:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, September 13, 2006

Here's a motherfucking survery, motherfuckers! Current mood: bitchy

THREE NAMES YOU GO BY:
1. Master
2. Sire
3. Cunts

THREE THINGS THAT SCARE YOU:
1. Fear Itself
2. Homosexuals
3. Cunts

THREE THINGS THAT MAKE YOU HAPPY:
1. Drugs
2. Homosexuals
3. Cunts

THREE THINGS YOU HATE:
1. Homosexuals
2. People with different skin color or ethnic background.
3. Bigots

THREE OF YOUR EVERYDAY ESSENTIALS:
1. Solid Gold Toilet
2. Anal Beads
3. Scented Candles

THREE THINGS YOU ARE WEARING RIGHT NOW:
1. Condom
2. Mother's Bra
3. Father's Thong

THREE THINGS ABOUT THE OPPOSITE (OR SAME) SEX THAT APPEAL TO YOU:
1. Breasts
2. Vagina
3. Breasts

THREE OF YOUR FAVORITE HOBBIES:
1. Masturbating
2. Masturbating
3. Masturbating

THREE THINGS YOU WANT REALLY BAD RIGHT NOW:
1. One Hundred Million Dollars
2. Success
3. Bird Flu

THREE CAREERS YOU'VE CONSIDERED:
1. OBGYN
2. President
3. Hitman

THREE PLACES YOU WOULD GO ON VACATION:
1. Iraq
2. Jersey City
3. North Korea

THREE THINGS YOU WANT TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE:
1. Have Sex
2. Meet My Parents
3. Assassinate a Foreign Leader

Archived Blog Jan 7 2006

2007-03-26T11:07:00.001-07:00

Saturday, January 07, 2006

Holy Shit! I updated my blog!

The following introduction was written by Shaquille O'Neal several weeks ago.

Yo, y'all erver hurrd a introductions? This be Shaq. I'm gonna be using somma my introducing skillz to introduce this cat Evan. I was visiting this dude in NYC, and I gotta tell you, that city is whack. Last time I was there, everything was cool. Now, people be all pointing at yours truly and shouting "King Kong!" Listen y'all, Shaq is the king, but he ain't no damn gorilla. Dats racist. Besides, you put that punk-ass Kong in the court with me one on one, you know what's gonna happen. I got about two inches on that ape, and he ain't got no skillz. He'd be all traveling and goal tending and the ref would be all whistle blowing and I'd be all dunking and then you'd be all like "damn Shaq, you are the King and not the Kong!"

But anyway, back to the introduction.

Yo, y'all erver hurrd a gay-little pervert kidnappers? This dude Evan pulld a fast one on Diesel, which is me. We went out for a nice dinner on the town. He wanted to go to Magic Johnson's restaurant, but I was like "fuck that. He's a pussy. HIV wouldn't hurt me. I'd kick it's ass and use it. My eight-foot-tall black ass would be scoring 200 points a game. In fact, I might just go out and get HIV for that reason. Bottom line, y'all, I wouldn't quit the league and get all fat and round like magic. I ain't eatin' at no restaurant like that.

But anyway, back to gay-little-pervert kidnappers. Yo y'all, that gay little pervert kidnapped me. That's right! Me! Shaq! We go out for our nice dinner, and this dude is being all cordial to Diesel, no what I'm saying. And man, one thing leads to another which leads to us kissing. Evan was looking fly that night.

So this little dude asks me back to my place and I say, "sure, I'm Shaq. What could go wrong?" Well, I'll tell you what could go wrong. I could get kidnapped. And I did get kidnapped.So the dude and I are doing our business. You know, getting our respective freaks on. Then this gay little pervert throws this smelly rag on my face and the next thing I know, I'm sitting in a closet with my legs tied to my hands. First thing I think: "Kobe!" But it wasn't Kobe, it was that dude Evan.Now, don't get me wrong. That dude fed me my daily requirement. 300 pounds of wheat. 50 pounds of meat. 500 pounds of greens (mostly grass). And one Colt 45 cause Billy Dee is my boy. And shit, that gay little pervert even hooked me up with my favorite thing in the world: the icy-hot sleeve.

Eventually I, Shaq, remembered that I am a for real Genie. Remember that movie? So, I wished myself out of there, and then I wished up this introduction.

If this experience has taught me something, it's that I need to work on my three frows like a mug.

That being having been said, enjoy this homosexual Jewish man's new entry.

Shaq out.

Hey guys, it's me. Don't be confused, I let Shaq write the introduction. Just so you know, he doesn't know what he's talking about. I counted 600 pounds of greens. Not five. Whatever. Anyway, here's what's new with me since my last posting.

GRAD SCHOOLS!
I am currently applying to three graduate schools for Creative Writing in English. Want to know why? Cause I like going to school. And, when I teacher forgets to give out homework, I always raise my hand to make sure that he/she does. The three schools I am applying to are secret, but I will give you hints. One of the schools is the largest cocaine producing country in the world. Another is a prominent University of New York. The third rhymes with "The Bew School." Thinking caps on, kids!

COMEDY SHOW!
I have a comedy show coming up on January 20th. Come and see it! If you don't, you're gonna pay. Hear that, America?! You're gonna pay! Be there.

NEW YEARS!
It's totally a new year, and my resolution is the same as it always is. My new years resolution is to not die. Good luck with that one, Evan.

CYST ON MY FUCKING SCALP!
So I debauchedly wake up the other day after a debauched night of debauched debauchery, and guess what, there's this lump on the top of my head, and I have a headache. It's not a big lump, rather small really, but the difference between the bump and my normal head makes me feel that I look like Tom after Jerry whacks him with a mallet. My initial diagnosis is Brain cancer, but alas, that was not to be the case. Turns out, it's a goddamned cyst! Now I gotta get it removed. Shit.

RAVENS!
Ravens are the smartest bird. Go figure. Don't believe me? Look it up, asshole!

GIRLS GIRLS GIRLS!
After a veritable onslaught of women (some attractive, most not) I am again single, available, and lonely. Gimme a call (no fat chicks)! Although, in an interesting development, my ex-girlfriend (who doesn't want to go out with me!! seriously, what the hell is that about?) and I saw Spam-a-lot (As a Monty Python afficianado, I can say that it sucked), and then we discussed the fact that she doesn't ever want to go out with me again. Well, c'est la vie. At least I gave her her Harry Potter books back, cause I was this close to keeping them.

BORED OF WRITING THIS BLOG ENTRY!

You know why it takes me so long to update my blog? Cause writing a blog is FUCKING BORING! However, after this little break, I realize it is something I need to do, because when I don't write my blog, miners get crushed, pakistan gets earthquaked, terrells get owensed, 2005 get 2006ed, and everybody dies. Well, come back to life, cocksuckers!As an added bonus, I have a treat for you guys. That's right, the actual pictures of me and that fucking rat that bit me! Here you go!

This is the rat. Duh? Here's my hand on the rat! Awesome, right? Not disgusting at all! Right? Right? Hello?

Here's a picture that's completely different from the previous one!

This is me with my phone, about to get bit by the rat.

This is me, after I got bit by the rat! See how I'm holding my finger? See? Hello?!

Anyway, as an aside, the rat lived! You heard me right. The rat lived! More on that later.

Archived Blog Dec 12 2005

2007-03-26T11:07:00.000-07:00

Monday, December 12, 2005

It's almost here!

Forget Harry.

Forget Kong.

Forget the Jesus lion.

Forget the israelis.

But don't forget to

BUCKLE THE FUCK UP!

Evan updates his blog, with special guest blogger Shaquille O'neal, soon!

Christmas 2005.

Be there.

Evan

Archived Blog Sept 14 2005

2007-03-26T11:05:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, September 14, 2005

Ho! Ho! Ho! Merry 9/11!

Hey everybody! Did you have a good 9/11 holiday? Mine was great. Santa came down and brought me a great gift: a negative result on my HIB test! No HIB for me! In your face, Rock Hudson! In your face, Magic Johnson! In your face, Greg Louganis! That’s right, I had an AIDS test this morning, and I don’t have the human immuno-deficiency birus! Now I can go sticking used heroin needles into my unprotected penis all I want! It was kind of fun, but I wasn’t able to be as humorous as I wanted because the guy who was asking questions of me was chinese, and his grasp of english was good, but not good enough to detect the sublteness of my statement “I did the nasty without a jimmy hat.” It’s funnier if whoever is saying that is wearing a tie at the time, as I was.

Below: This is me getting my HIB test. I don't know why, but in many photographs, I come out looking like a black woman. Incidentally, the man testing me was actually the ethiopian with whom I had anal sex after I found out that I was clean.

Ugh. I got horrible sleep last night. I don’t know what happened, but I ended up waking about every half hour or so. That sucks, you know? As usual, the best sleep I got was the last hour, which wasn’t even that good. Then I went down to get my HIB screening. Now I’m all groggy and trying to work, and it sucks, because I don’t even like to work when I’m well rested. Speaking of things sucking, I need to work on my grammar and vocab.

Now, a quick message about Katrina. Everyone should lay off the president! That’s right, give him some space. Give George Bush the benefit of the doubt. How could George Bush know that New Orleans was hit by a hurricane when he didn’t even know what a hurricane was? That’s right. It takes time to learn things. You can’t expect him to be some sort of hurricane genius moments after discovering the fact that they even exist. Also, how was George Bush supposed to know that the levees and floodgates wouldn’t hold up under the storms onslaught when he had never even heard of Louisiana? All tucked away down there, it’s not his fault he’s never heard of Louisiana or New Orleans. Get off his back! I think we should focus on what a good job Bush is doing given he is the first president with Down's Syndrome.

Below: George Bush during the hurricane, trying to remember where he had heard of "Louisiana" before. Poor little guy.

What’s the deal with ex-girlfriends? Mine’s acting like she doesn’t even want to date me anymore. What’s that about? Maybe she’ll change her mind if I keep leaving her text messages…

So, as a follow up to my last post, I have a weight-loss plan now. I am going to go on what is known as my dad’s slime diet. This will be a period of time where I will just drink these meal replacement shakes instead of eating anything else. I will lose all this extra weight and become king among men! While I do this, I suppose I will try to not drink, unless of course, Poontang is involved (Poontang is my cambodian friend who loves to hit the sauce!) Oh yeah, I will also drink if it might get me laid. I will keep you all updated about that crap.

Below: My friend Poontang! Isn't he adorable? That kid gets so much pussy.

Here’s a little thing that I think I should share. It’s my opinion on girls and the tattoos that they get above their ass-cracks. First of all, tattoos are stupid anyway. If you argue with this, you probably have a tattoo, and think you aren’t stupid. Well, you might not be stupid, but when you got the tattoo, you did something stupid, and now you have a stupid thing on you forever. Why are tattoos stupid, you ask? They are stupid for the simple reason that they are permanent. Anything permanent is stupid. Prove me wrong here. Also, tattoos just make you look like an idiot. You need at least three pairs of glasses to outweight just one tattoo! These tattoos used to be about individuality and rebelliousness. Now they are about trying to match clothing. It used to be like, “I’m gonna get a tattoo! That’s right! Screw my parents! Screw the government! Screw everybody! I’m getting a tattoo.” Now it’s like, “I’m gonna get a tattoo. That’s right! Screw Lisa! Screw Christine! Screw Julie! They keep making fun of me for not having a tattoo like they do. Well, let’s see who they make fun of now!” That’s pretty bad.

Below: A woman (slut) showing her lower back tattoo (slut camouflage) so she can attract a male that will fornicate her and hopefully, beat her.

Now, when I’m checking out these girls, I just can’t get their supposed thoughts out of my head. “Look at my tattoo. I’m so cool. I am so cool. I’m cooler than you. Look at my tattoo! Maybe this tattoo will make guys want me more. Yeah! I love demeaning my personality by getting one of these tattoos installed.” Why don’t you just become a prostitute so you can get paid for looking like a whore? Seriously, have some self respect. Don’t just get a tattoo cause you want to get fucked. Now, don’t get me wrong. More often than not, I do want to have sex with these girls who have these tattoos. But these tattoos are indicative of the exact type of girl who would never want anythign to do with me. That’s another reason I don’t like them. They all complain when a creepy guy like me is staring at their asses. What’s their problem? They lok at me, and they’re all like “what are you looking at, loser?” Listen, sister, I didn’t pour whiskey down your throat, give you genital herpes and force you to get a tatoo of an arrow pointing down that, underneath it, says “dick goes here.” You did that to yourself, honey. I’m not the one who molested you when you were eleven, ok? And don’t pretend you aren’t dressed like a whore. You know you are. You know exactly why you got that tattoo. You make me sick. Now, what’s your number? Now, a whole generation of girls are conforming to each other. This emans that, in sixty years, there’s going to be some funny stuff going on. Like a dad taking his son to see his grandmother. “What’s that symbol on Grandma’s butt?” “Well, that’s a swastika. Grandma hates the jews but loves cock.”

Below: I used to think this chick was cool. Now she's just another girl that I want to have sex with. Check out the tattoo up close; it's a Swastika!

Ok. That’s over. See, that wasn’t that bad, was it? It wasn’t that funny either, was it?Well, until next time, I’m Evan Jacobs. This is my blog.

Archived Blog Sept 9 2005

2007-03-26T11:02:00.000-07:00

Friday, September 09, 2005

Sometimes You Feel Like a Big, Fat, Huge, Nerdy, Unattractive, Awkward, Creepy, Stupid Nut; Sometimes You Don’t.

Hey folks, suffolks, and norfolks. How’s livin’? Y’all be chillin’? Chillin’ like a villain? Or is you just illin’? Don’t speak that jive talk to me, young man! I’ll wash your dirty, little mouth out with soap. That’s better. Well, anyway, for all you folks, suffolks, and norfolks who read my blog, I will have a big, wet, juicy, sticky treat for you in a couple of weeks. That’s right, you guessed it! I am going to post actual pictures of the rat that bit me, and actual pictures of me, talking to it! Yay! There is a god! (Not really).

A note: If you look at my previous blog, I added a little message concerning the things I said about the mayor of Biloxi. Even though he probably is a jerk, I must rescind my comments about his usage of hyperbole, as now I realize that, if anything, it is only slight exaggeration. Next time, I should probably wait a little bit before putting my foot inside of my mouthular cavity. Of course, my utmost respect and hope goes out to those who were in some way victimized by Katrina.

This brings me to the subjects of my blog today. My fat, no-game-having ass and gentrification in the area in manhattan in which I reside, and then a little bit of baby stabbing.

So I went home last weekend, and, to my surprise, I found out that I am a fat, worthless, piece of shit, from my parents. They are right of course. When I was in high school, I went as low as 155 pounds (I think). Now I have ballooned up to an astonishing 325. That’s not all muscle weight. For a while, I was thinking that I would go for the Guinness record of worlds fattest man, because for someone like me, that’s much easier that going for world’s thinnest man. My metabolism is so messed up. Drinking water makes me fat! Breathing makes me fat! Exercising actually makes me fat. I’m totally screwed here. So some of you might be saying, “Who cares if you’re fat? It’s just more of you to love. Trust me, I’m an attractive woman and I love fat guys. I like thin guys too, so if you ever thin out I won’t leave you. Also, I have a PhD in astrophysics and I never wear panties.” If you are one of those people saying that, please come and meet me so I can have sex with your fine ass, woman. Yeah baby, you know you want it. That’s right, sugar. Aww, where you going, sweetie pie? You just gonna leave me like that, baby? That’s cool. That’s cool. Bitch.

Below: If only I could be this skinny again...

So, how am I unfattifying myself, you ask? Well, my fat dad gave me a bunch of his fat shakes so I can drink them and not be fat. That works ok when you don’t have twelve in a row. Also, I bought a lot of instant popcorn, which is really filling and fun to make. Also, I’ve been eating a lot of California condor meat, which is very lean. I wish dodos were still around so I could kill them all and eat them too. And, as usual, I work out. Of course, when I say work out, I mean I vigorously masturbate to punch-porn (porn where people punch people). That takes some calories. Then I cry in the shower, which also sheds a little bit of water weight. So, I am well on the way to losing some of this fat, lardy, fat, ugly, fat weight.

Above: The cat version of me. Below: The dog version of the cat version of me.

Ever since my ex-girlfriend and current almost hurricane Katarina dumped me, my sex drive has started to come back, and now I’m on the prowl again. So, expect an “I hate women” entry to occur sometime soon in this blog. My plan is thus. I’m too much of a fat fuck to even deserve a girl. I don’t deserve one. I don’t deserve to eat, I’m so fat. I don’t even deserve to not be fat. That’s how fat I am. After I unfattify myself, I will start my new girl campaign which will go something like this. I will talk to girls randomly in public until I’m not scared of it anymore. And, I will only talk to girls that are way out of my league. If that doesn’t work out perfectly, I will go back to craigslist, and download some new punch-porn. What about kick-porn, you say? Kick-porn is disgusting and is for perverts. You make me sick.

So I live in the Dominican Republic, otherwise known as Washington Heights. I heard the other day that there was this big anti-gentrification rally around my area. That’s right. The Dominicans want the white people out because that is their neighborhood! Yeah! Fuck the white people! Fuck the white people! Fuck the… wait a second… this stinks of extreme racism. Sure, white people are evil, but not all of them. It is unbelievable to me that the Dominicans wouldn’t welcome people living in their area with open arms. After all, white people did found the city. Show some love. And then they mask this whole thing with the term Anti-Gentrification, which should actually be called, Anti-White-People-We’re-Jerks. That’s all I have to say about that shit.

Below: A man who definitely makes more money than me and is happier in his life. Leave me alone, you bastard! God, I wouldn't want to live there if the rent wasn't so cheap. The apartment sucks anyway.

So, a baby got stabbed about a block from my apartment by a man who lives less than two hundred feet from me. Shocking, right? That baby must have said something really awful to piss that guy off. Maybe the baby owed him money. Maybe the baby was just crying. The problem with that is that you don’t get a baby to stop crying by stabbing it, although it is a feasible option. Here’s the secret. If you want to stop a baby from crying, shake the living shit out of it. Just shake it and shake it and shake it like a yoo-hoo until the baby stops. That’s what responsible parents do. Only if this technique doesn’t work do you then stab the baby. If that fails also, a surefire but expensive way of calming the baby down is gently rocking it while at the same time detonating a nuclear bomb and point-blank baby range. That’ll shut it up. It the baby is still crying, then it’s Harry Potter.

Below: What a cute and--most importantly--quiet baby! The original poster had twenty-seven "NEVER"s on it, but they thought it was a little too much. I disagree.

Well, that’s my crappy forced out blog entry for today. Good luck to Shaq and all the people affected by Katrina. I send my love (but no money).

Archived Blog Aug 30 2005

2007-03-26T10:57:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, August 30, 2005

I Must Be the Dumbest Person in New York –or—I Love My New Bubonic Plague!

The following statements in red were written before I knew the extent of the destruction in Katrina's wake. Please forgive me if you are offended:

First, let me start off by saying that I wish all the best to any of the people who were harmed or inconvenienced because of Hurricane Katrina (not to be confused with Katarina, my ex-girlfriend, who did not produce nearly as much rainfall). I hope that New Orleans and surrounding regions will pull out of this with minimal loss of life and property. That being said, here’s a quote I read in the New York Times from some asshole:

“‘This is our tsunami,’ Mayor A. J. Holloway of Biloxi, Miss., told The Biloxi Sun Herald.” -www.nytimes.com

Oh really, Mayor? This is your tsunami? I can see that. I stubbed my toe the other day, and it was my holocaust. And then, a few days ago, I got a paper-cut. It was totally my extinction of the dinosaurs! No, mayor, this is not your tsunami. Ok? Do you want to know what your tsunami is? The fucking ACTUAL tsunami! Don’t compare one of the worst natural disasters in history that will take decades to recover from with this hurricane. I know the hurricane is bad, but the tsunami killed hundreds of thousands. By making this off-the-cuff comparison, you are dishonoring those who died in the tsunami, you fat ugly bastard (for the record, I have no idea what you look like). Mayor A. J. Holloway (the A. J. stands for “a jackass”), the tsunami wasn’t just for the people of India et al.; it was the world’s disaster. I know you’re upset about the hurricane, but don’t go around saying dumb stuff like that, ok? Ok. I’m sorry for yelling. I know. No, no. It’s not like that. Yes, I like you. I don’t know why she did that. Don’t worry, you’ll find another one. There are plenty of fish in the sea… Of course I think you’re attractive! Not in a gay way, but… Fat ugly bastard? Oh yeah. I was just kidding, I said I didn’t know what you looked like in the parenthetical statement following it. Just relax. Ok. Cool. Well, listen, I gotta go… Ok. Ok. I’ll call you. Bye Mr. Holloway!

Now, the moment you’ve all been waiting for:

The Story of the Rat.

So, on Friday night, I saw my friend do a sketch show with my other friend Joe Powers. I was not toxicated at all (meaning I was intoxicated), so, after getting a number of a rather cute girl, Joe and I left the show to go back to our respective homes. Are you following me so far people? I’ll stop telling this story right now if I think… ok… that’s better. Anyway, we were walking along the sidewalk when I heard a high-pitched squeal. I looked behind me, but I couldn’t see anything. The squeal continued, so I looked down at the trash can behind me to find a rat in it. Now, this was one of those woven metal trash cans, and the rat had gotten himself stuck in one of the interstices, so its torso, front paws and head were hanging out the can, and its pelvis and back legs were still inside it. Apparently its pelvis was not big enough to fit through the hole. It was screaming bloody murder. I had to try to rescue it.

Ok, now I know what you’re going to say: You wanted to rescue a rat? What the hell is wrong with you? Here’s what’s wrong with me. I am a compassionate human being who cares for his fellow mammals be they human, rat, or sometimes platypus. I wasn’t about to leave this poor rat to die without at least trying to help it. Besides, rats are cute. Just take a look at this picture!

Below: This is painfully cute.

So I began the rescue operation. I put my hand inside the trash can and tried to nudge the rat out of the hole. I was attempting to push his pelvis through or find some way to get it through (the thought that I should have pulled it did not occur to me until much later on when it was too late.) The pushing didn’t work, unless my intended plan was to piss the rat off. The whole time I pushed, it was trying to bite me, but wasn’t able to because of the wire metal walls of the trash can (imagine having your legs stuck in a manhole and trying to scratch your feet). Then, when this didn’t work, I talked to the rat a little bit, asking it how it even got stuck in the first place. The rat didn’t answer. Up until now, my actions have not been stupid. That was soon to change.

Below: The rat was caught in one of those diamond shaped holes toward the bottom of the receptacle. This may or not have been the actual trash can in question.

I noticed that the rat’s front was flopping around, trying to pull himself out of this hole. I thought that, if he had more leverage out of the hole, he would be able to pull his back legs out. The way to achieve this would be to put my finger under his stomach to give him that support. So, in my infinite stupidity, I decided to execute this action. As I moved my hand in, I thought, “he’s gonna bite me if I do this.” Even then, I continued on. Guess what happened. Seriously: guess. That’s right. He bit me. He bit me on my middle finger very lightly, breaking the skin in one small place where a drop of blood began to form. This was arguably a lesser wound than popping a pimple. However, pimples don’t carry the bubonic plague. When he bit me, I grabbed my finger, looked up at Joe and said, “that’s not good.” He immediately began to laugh at me and called me an idiot. I had no argument for this and frankly agreed with him. I then talked to the rat for about five minutes straight before deciding to give up on the little bastard. I felt bad walking away from him, but it was a lost cause. I got bitten by a rat for nothing. I hope he survived.

Below: An actual photograph of the actual rat who actually bit me.

The next day was the bad part. My brother told me at length how Rabies, gone untreated and once the symptoms have started, is uncurable. Furthermore, it melts your brain. That’s not the way I intend to go out, ok? So I was scared, but then after a little bit of internet research, I was able to ascertain that rats almost never carry rabies and that I should use orbitz for all my travel needs. So I don’t have rabies. But what about the plague? Well, rats have been known to carry the plague, but for some reason, I doubt that I have it, although it still exists. Whodathunk? Then I went online to look at the diseases rats carry. All of them were just various forms of bacteria that didn’t even have cool slang terms. If they don’t have common everyday slang terms for them, I’m not scared of them. I'm not scared of them for the same reason I’m scared of AIDS but not of acquired immuno deficiency syndrome. That syndrome will never get me! AIDS will take me out way before that syndrome will.

And thus is the tale of how I was bitten by a New York City rat that was inside a trashcan. A feat accomplished by well under 250 people a year in this city. Most of these 250 are babies, elderly, and homeless people. I would assume that the ones like me most often get bitten when they’re not expecting it. I however, am dumber than all these chumps. I’m the dumbest of them all, because I knew he was going to bite me and I put my hand in there anyway. I'm the dumbest! Number one! Unfortunately, and this is for a later discussion, it seems that the rat bite might turn out to be much more pleasant than trying to call this girl who’s number I got right before this incident.

Until next time, I’m Evan Jacobs.

This is my blog.

Archived Blog Aug 24 2005

2007-03-26T10:22:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, August 24, 2005

Women: Can’t live with em, can’t take away their right to vote, round them all up, and keep the most attractive as a reusable breeding population.

Greetings, people of Earth (Hi Chris! What up Makeen? Yo Azubah! What’s the hizzy Angela? Hello, Mother and Father. What the fuck is up all the rest of y’alls?) So, today, the title of my post is in reference to women. So, today’s post is kind of about women too. Hillary Clinton’s a woman, right? Ok. I love Hillary. I want her to be president. She is a great person and an example for us all. I would rather die than have her even slightly inconvenienced. She is a goddess. That being said she has stupid ideas about one thing: vidja games. That is the true subject of my post today: vidja games and the violence therein.

There is a debate in this country about vidja games that is raging all across our nation, from Maryland to Washington DC. People are saying that vidja games breed violence and ignorance. I would like to respond to this, first sarcastically:

Wow! Video games cause so much violence! It’s incredible. Why, just the other day, I was playing a Star Wars game. I turn it off and go to the supermarket. When I’m in the supermarket, there was this Twi’lek walking around, and I totally took out my lightsaber and killed him. People started screaming, but I didn’t see what was wrong. “He was a Sith!” I said, but people didn’t think that I had any right to kill that alien like that. Seconds later, a band of five ewoks came up to me and drew their spears. I tried to argue with them that a good Sith is a dead Sith, but they didn’t back down. With another quick flick of my lightsaber, I cut down this group. To say the least, the Gristedes staff, after taking a quick glance at the limbs and appendages on the floor, thought that this was inappropriate behavior. So, they called the cops. And guess what? One of the cops was a dirty Twi’lek. I hate Twi’leks!

Above: A Twi'lek. Below: A Lego Twi'lek. I hate them!

To make a long story short, I had to kill them all with my lightsaber again. A few minutes later, I was sitting on top of a bleeding heap of arms, heads, legs, and torsos, and I reflected on what I had done. Why? Why did I kill all those people? Then I remembered: the video game! The video game had taught me to be racist toward Twi’leks. It taught me that a lightsaber was a fun toy, and not a dangerous weapon. It also taught me that the life of a Jedi is one of battle and not sacrifice. But those aren’t the values I’m supposed to be learning. I never thought I’d use my lightsaber for evil! It’s just a damn shame. But, I’m happy to say, today I gave my lightsaber to a nice homeless man. He will have better use for it than I.

But if you think that’s it, you are far from absolutely correct. I used to play Mario Brothers, and in that game, if you eat a star, you become invincible. Now, because I was an impressionable youth, I thought that I would eat a star. Well, here’s something you didn’t know. Stars are big. I wasn’t able to finish that thing in one day! It took like three days! It was stale at the end and hardly appetizing, but I wanted to be invincible, damnit! That’s not all, though. I’ll bet you didn’t know that stars are really hot. I was blowing on this thing so much, and it still burned. I don’t think I have any tastebuds left because some jerk decided to go nuts with the hot sauce. The whole time I was eating that star, I had a glass of water in my right hand. And here’s another thing you didn’t know about stars. They are far away! To get to that star, I had to have my mom drive me for hours! Seriously, hours! I’ve never driven so far for food before. And guess what? When I ate the star, all the planets surrounding it were cast off into space, surely to be destroyed. I kind of feel bad about this because one of the planets definitely had a civilization on it (they gave me the diet coke to wash the star down) and I just killed them all. And then, worst of all, eating that infinitely heavy and large ball of gas didn’t make me invincible. In fact, it gave me horrible, explosive diarrhea. Needless to say, it took more than one trip to the bathroom.

All this just bolsters Hillary’s point. Kids always act out video games. In fact, there was no violence before video games. Video games caused all of it. What? World War II? I can’t hear you! LA LA LA LA LA LA! As I was saying, before video games, we lived in a utopia. Then, Pong ruined us all. The violence displayed in Pong gave the American public an unquenchable blood-lust and an enjoyment of suffering. All video games should be censored! In fact, all video games and systems should be taken off the market, burned, and blasted into the sun. Then, all the people who play video games should be burned and blasted into the sun. Then, the earth should be blasted into the sun to erase the horrible Pandora’s Box that is video games from the universe.

Ok, now non-sarcastically:

The argument is such: Some video games (like grand theft auto) glorify violence, crime, and misogyny. I agree with that. These video games let children play out fantasies of murder, rape, and drug usage. I also agree with that. These children then live out their video game experiences in real life. I also agree with… wait. That’s bullshit! Here’s my argument, and we can start with GTA.

Grand Theft Auto
This game is the center of all controversy because you can play as a villain, and you get points for immoral actions. Recently a man was arrested because he killed three police officers and stole a cop cruiser apparently acting out a scenario from the game. You know what? I believe he was acting out a scenario from the game. I also believe that this man was a complete psychotic, and if he hadn’t ever played video games, he still would have probably caused violence on this scale. “No,” says Hillary Clinton. Without that video game, this man would be a Buddhist monk. Violent people are going to be violent no matter what happens. Not a good enough argument? Well, here’s this one. The Grand Theft Auto series debuted around ten years ago. It’s not recent. Ten years ago, the graphics were much more primitive, but the point of the game was the same. You were rewarded for killing innocent people. Where was Hillary then? And another thing, movies and television glorify murder and rape, but then again, so does everyday life! You watch the daily news and you have murder and rape stories. Maybe we shouldn’t show the news anymore. And another thing: It’s mostly adults who are playing these video games. You see, there aren’t any little kids playing GTA without the express permission from their parents. Who’s gonna buy the video game anyway. But, the bottom line is much more simple.

My whole life, I’ve been hearing that violence in the media begets violence in real life. Although I cannot quote any actual studies about this, I know that this has simply never been proven. In fact, in my eyes, it has only been supported by acts of psychos and criminals who have had previous arrests and reenact a video game much like a copycat murderer will reenact a homicide. There used to be a time when there weren’t video games. There used to be a time when there weren’t movies. Back then, people complained about how sexy and violent books were destroying society. Books! The fact of the matter is that violent people will be violent no matter what stimuli they have. Normal people do not become murderers. I don’t care how many times you’ve seen “Saving Private Ryan.” Murderers become murderers, nothing more, nothing less. Murderers come up with excuses for murders, like “the devil told me to do it” or, “I played it in GTA,” but the fact of the matter is that those two excuses are interchangeable. GTA does not cause people to murder other people. If anything, people with murderous tendencies are able to alleviate them by playing these games. Instead of killing someone for real, they can do it in a video game, where no one really gets hurt. It’s not like kids who play Grand Theft Auto don’t know about killing people. The game is not introducing anything to them. It is merely reflecting the society in which we live. Also, has anyone pointed out that the cops can and will kill you in this video game? Wouldn’t the kids notice this? I’m sorry this post isn’t as funny as more recent ones. I will try to spice it up with this: Monkeypenis!

Yay

Evan

Archived Blog Aug 22 2005

2007-03-26T10:21:00.000-07:00

Monday, August 22, 2005

People or Things That Deserve to Have an Upside-Down Helicopter Fall on Them

Greetings everybody. I notice that no one has been commenting on my blog entries (except diesel). That’s ok. I like doing all of this work for nothing. I love it when people don’t care about what I have to say. Being ignored is so awesome. So keep it up, people. Stop visiting this page and reading what I wrote. I just spend hours on it, why should you waste precious seconds reading it? Oh, what, because you’re my friend? Friends are for the weak. All of my friends are actually just benign enemies. Anyway, please stop commenting on my blog, because I don’t write a blog to have it read, I write it to waste my goddamned time. Anyway, keeping with the theme of this intro, today’s subject will be things that I hate. Obviously, there are going to be things that I hate that won’t be mentioned, so I’ll get to them in the sequel. Here they are.

Youfemizzums:

Well, not all euphemisms, but one in particular. I once knew this girl who, after learning that a friend/acquaintance had died the day before in a car accident, called up another friend to break the news. She spoke of the deceased girl and said that the girl had “passed away” yesterday. Then she told me how this is like the eighth friend to “pass away” in a car accident in her life. Yeah, he passed away in a car accident. Just like all those Jews passed away in the holocaust, right? Or remember when Kennedy passed away after he was SHOT IN THE HEAD?!?! Here’s the deal. Girl, it’s sad that your friend died, but she didn’t pass away, she got killed! She fucking died! She got killed in a car accident. She didn’t pass away as if she was a hundred years old and died in her sleep, she was crushed to death in a car! And if you keep misrepresenting and frankly insulting the dead, you deserve to have someone pass you away! Have respect for your friend. Tell them what actually happened. She didn’t pass away! You at least have to be in bed to pass away, at least!! You’re going to offend people with this soft, pussified language. For example, wasn’t it sad when those 3000 people passed away on 9/11? No, it wasn’t sad because IT NEVER HAPPENED! They didn’t pass away, they died! And using the term “passed away” makes you almost as bad as the terrorists themselves. Come on Americans, stop lying to yourselves and get a grip.

Aksents and Bad Pronunseeayshun:

This is a much larger category of things that I hate. Because, first of all, there are many accents that I love where I think the pronunciations are much better. However, there are just too many that I hate to ignore them. Today we will go over just a few examples. I hate it when people say “sore” instead of “saw.” “Yeah I sore him. He was holding a hacksore and I also sore a sore on his jore which was a real appearance floor. He was somewhat of an enigmore. Then I sore him break a lore and then he bought tickets to Panamore. Then I ate sushi and that fish was really roar!” What could be worse than that, you say? I’ll tell you. You’ve all heard it before. It’s become infamous. Say it with me folks! People who say “axe” instead of “ask.” Come on, people! Just say ask! Is it that hard? Is this a country full of dyslexic morons? These people can say “ask.” I know they can. I’ve never heard someone say “my favorite state is Alaxa.” I’ve never heard someone say “I loved Jim Carrey in ‘The Max!” Are you kidding me, people? You know how to spell, right? You can say a three letter word correctly, right? No one says “how” instead of “who.” I refuse to believe that the people who say “axe” don’t know how to spell “ask.” They have to. If they were all illiterate, well, then I would under—ok, that would still be bad. But come on! Can’t you see that the fucking “s” comes before the fucking “k?” The rule is not “’s’ before ‘k’ except after ‘a.’”

Elevator Doors:

There’s another strange phenomenon that makes me see red. I’ve only encountered this twice, but both times, my head actually exploded. Both times I was waiting behind someone to enter an elevator. The elevator door opened. People got out. After that, I was all ready to go inside the elevator, cause that’s what I usually do when people leave the elevator. Then the doors start closing, and I think, uh oh, I’d better get in there to block the doors from closing, cause I don’t want to miss my elevator. So, the jackass in front of me puts her hand in the doorway, but then removes it when she loses her nerve, thinking that the elevator was going to crush her hand, and then I missed the goddamned elevator. This has happened twice. How can people be this stupid? Did I miss some news report about someone who died being crushed in an elevator door? Has that ever happened? Have they ever made an elevator without these safety mechanisms? Jesus Christ, people. Here’s what I figure. The woman who was too afraid to put her hand in the elevator door was named Helga Visselgoth. She used to be a Viking, but was then frozen somehow. Years later, she was unfrozen somehow. Then she got a job in my building, and decided to use the elevator. She had heard many stories about these wonderful machines of the future, but had never seen one. And, because of her very bad experiences when she first encountered television (she kicked the TV thinking there were demons in it and accidentally electrocuted herself), alarm clocks (when the alarm went off, she had just come out of the shower and she crushed it in her hand, electrocuting herself), and the internet (she accidentally downloaded gay porn instead of straight porn, electrocuting herself), she was wary about the elevator door. So, as the door closed, she thought that maybe she would be brave by trying valiantly to sacrifice her own arm for a spot in the elevator. However, her nerves gave out and cowardice kicked in, and she withdrew her arm, shaking and crying. I consoled her on the floor as she wept, holding her like she was my child. I told her that everything would be just fine. Our eyes met and our animal instincts took over. We kissed like two lifeguards giving each other mouth-to-mouth, and then we dropped to the floor together in passion, making sweet love for hours. It was a beautiful experience. But seriously, what a moron.

There are so many more things that I hate, but I am getting really tired of writing this blog entry. I will have another one down the line so I can share more grievances with you. Til next time, I’m Evan Jacobs.

Archived Blog Aug 15 2005

2007-03-26T10:18:00.000-07:00

Monday, August 15, 2005

Grizzly Man is Stupid

Before I start this blog, I have been asked to clean it up by unamed sources that may or may have not impregnated my mother with half my genetic material. So, there will be no more references to… well… it will just be clean from now on. Besides, scatological humor just isn’t funny. I guess. Let’s see how this goes.

So there’s this new documentary called Grizzly Man. It is about a man named Timothy Treadwell. I watched a primetime live segment about this movie. It was, to say the least, very interesting. Timothy Treadwell decided that he could live amongst the Alaskan grizzly bears without knowing anything about them, and could do so for months at a time. Surprise surprise, he got killed by a bear. So, they made a movie about it. This idiot loved being in front of the camera and loved being with those damn grizzly bears. He took his girlfriend with him when he died, and she got eaten as well, which was a shame because she was attractive. It’s all very sad, but not very tragic. Horribly, the death was recorded on the camcorder’s audio because the cap had been left on. Timothy’s friend owns the camcorder, and also the recording. Only three people in the world have listened to it, and each say that they will never forget it because it is so horrible. I find that disturbing. So, where do I come into this? As a comedian I know said, “my job is too reach into the tragedy and sorrow and sadness and pull out the happy!” So, I will write a quick audio play here called “Death of a Dumbass” which is my interpretation of the last recording of his life.

“Death of a Dumbass”

Timothy: Ok, are we recording?

Girlfriend: Yup.

Timothy: Ok, is the lens cap off?

Girlfriend: Yup.

Timothy: Are you sure?

Girlfriend: Yeah, I’m not stupid.

Timothy: I know you’re not. I was just asking. Ok. As you can see ladies and gentlemen, sitting behind me is a huge, disgruntled grizzly bear. Don’t worry though, I’ve given him a name. His name is Apricot. Now, I am going to attempt to pet Apricot on the nose.

Girlfriend: Are you sure that you want to—

Timothy: Please. I have done this before. I know what I’m doing. Now, you’ll see he’s growling ferociously and standing on his back legs while I move my hand towards his gaping, drooling mouth. This is perfectly normal. Now, you see that as I put my hand on his nose, he will ever so gently… Um… He ate my hand.

Girlfriend: Oh my god! Are you okay? You’re bleeding all over the place. We should get out of—

Timothy: Honey, please. Ok? Just shhh… Nothing to worry about now. I’ve had my hand eaten plenty of times, all I have to do is retrieve it with my other hand. I know this bear, and I know he would never purposefully hurt me. Would you, Apricot? Now, watch how delicately I insert my left hand into his mouth to retrieve my missing right ha—Ok then. He ate my left hand too.

Girlfriend: Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. We need to get you to a hospital.

Timothy: Can’t you see I’m doing my show? Keep it down! Ok. So Apricot got a little excited. Honey, put the camera on a tripod and come over here. I need your help.

Girlfriend: But the bear, he looks—

Timothy: DO IT!! God, you are so annoying.

Girlfriend: Ok. But only because I trust you and I love—

Timothy: SHUT UP AND GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE!!

Girlfriend: Hi, everybody at home. Here I am with my boyfriend and his favorite bear, Apricot. Hi apricot. It looks like you got something of my boyfriend’s. Let me just—

Timothy: Uh oh. Well, as you can see, ladies and gentlemen, bears love eating girlfriends. But don’t worry, because I’m not worried either. Sure, I have two bloody stumps instead of hands, but who doesn’t? I will get my hands back yet. Umm.. and maybe my girlfriend, but I was getting sick of her anyway, and I— Ok! You want to play? Eh Apricot? Ladies and gentlemen, as you can see here, Apricot has accepted me as his friend and is now playing a game with me. He seems to think that I have a present for him in my stomach. Oh, you silly bear, those are just my intestines. Ok, eat ‘em all up, I know you’re hungry. Don’t worry ladies and gentlemen, if I could count on one hand the amount of times I’ve had my intestines eaten, well, I’d still have a hand, now wouldn’t I? Ha! Now, you see that Apricot is being very friendly and gnawing on my neck. Don’t leave a hicky, Apricot! Now, the red substance that he is removing is my jugular. Don’t be alarmed, ladies and gentlemen, I—wait. Is that. Oh no, is the lens cap still on the camera? The lens cap is on. The lens cap is on!!! No!!! Oh God!!! No!!! There’s no visual!!! No!!! Help!!! No!!! Women don’t understand technology!!!

END SCENE

Those are, as far as I can predict, the audio of the last moments of Timothy’s life. I will see y’all next blog entry.

Archived Blog Aug 4 2005

2007-03-26T10:16:00.000-07:00

Thursday, August 04, 2005

The Three Most Important Things In Real Estate: 1. Location. 2. Location. 3. Sperm-Dripping, Ethiopian Dicks.

Hello Evanites, how is my powerful army doing? The great. I am so proud of all of you continuing to be my minions and fighting for me. What? Ted came back late from lunch? Shoot him in the head! Let that be a lesson to the rest of you lazy bastard Evanites. Fucking around is something that I do not participate in.Update: Many of you might be asking, "what's with all the gay sex stuff?" Well, for some god-only-knows reason, I have decided that I want my blog to be first pick on your search engine when you--and you know who you are--search for your nightly dosage of gay sex. So, let the floppy, blood-covered, penis-party commence! Spread your anuses everybody! It's time to see what's going on in Evan's life.

DUMPED!!!

Well jizz on my face and call me Casper The Jizz-Loving Friendly Ghost. I got dumped!! Most of you aren't aware that I even had a girlfriend. Well, scroll back through my blogs until you get to the last time I broke up with someone. Yep. That's it. Ok, close your eyes and now use your imagination and visualize a universe in which I pretty much got back together with the girl immediately and have been going out until three days ago. Open your eyes! Your imagination has created reality! I got dumped on monday. She said she got into the relationship too fast after a five year relationship and maybe it was a mistake. That's fine with me though, I wanted to die alone anyway. Well, we're still going to try to be ejaculating schlongs. I mean, friends.

POTTERED!!!

I've started reading the Harry Potter books. It turns out (although I am only in the beginning of the second book) that they are excellent. They are about a young, gay wizard named Harry Potter who is famous for surviving an attack from the evil gay wizard Voldemort which killed his parents. The only thing he has to remember his parents and this event by is a large penis shaped scar on his penis. When he goes to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Gay Wizardry, he learns to use his magical wand (penis) to magically shoot out smaller penises that, in turn, blow their loads on his gay enemies. Harry has two friends. Ron Weasly, whom he regularly sodomizes, and Hermione Granger, with whom he regularly discusses how he is disgusted by the thought of even hugging a woman. You should give it a read. I liked the first book so much that I actually ejaculated feces!

FIRED!!!

I'm not sure if I talked about this before, but I have devolved to my natural state of not having a job. I was laid off from my previous job for two reasons. The first reason is that they ran out of legal documents for me to code. The second reason is that the company is run by jew-killing, black-hating, Osama-bin-Laden-cheering, stem-cell-research-restricting, anti-flag-burning, "friends"-watching, wife-swapping, penn-charter-loving necrophiliac nazis. Now I am looking for a new job. Maybe something in retail. I love retail. It really makes me feel like a semen covered scrotum.

LAZIED!!!

I am working on comedy, ok? It is still my dream to be a comedian. The only problem is that people don't always laugh when I tell jokes. My dad suggested that I should go to a speech therapist, which I would love to do. I'll make sure to find one when I start vomiting money. Until then, I'll just have to handle it by myself. Also, I have been thinking about going to special skit writing classes later on. I will keep you updated about it. Other things I need to do? Let's see. I need to: Learn how to use my dell axim. Finish some books. Learn how to use filemaker pro. Find a new girlfriend. Write some new jokes. Gain the urge to run again. Lose some weight. Eat better. Wake up earlier. Spend less money. Kill the president of mozambique. And just get my shit together. I'm working on it, ok? Get of my fucking homosexual back!

IN CONCLUSIONED!!!

At this point, I am rather tired from typing. The head of my penis is red and swollen from all the key strokes I have made and I won't even tell you how annoying it is to hold down the shift button with my balls. Until next time, don't spew your hot sticky wad onto the face of anyone you have known for less that three hours. It's just not appropriate. See you next time, Evanites. Sorry, Ted.

Archived Blog Jul 8 2005

2007-03-26T10:11:00.000-07:00

Friday, July 08, 2005

Kiefer Sutherland Here. Shaq Will Join Us Later.

Greetings my minions with large penises and beautiful breasts. How's it going? Just so you know, I am going to litter this blog with sexual terms because when my friend Shaquille O'Neal was visiting, he showed me that his blog came up as the first website when one searched for "gay sex" on Yahoo.com. To make it easier to recognize, I will bold to those terms. So, don't get your cocks tied in a knot over it.

So, Shaquille O'Neal came to visit me. We had a great time, and he actually wrote a little entry on my computer for me to cut and paste into my blog (he didn't know how to access his blog from other people's computers). Here's what he thought about the visit.

Hey, y'all heard about this place called New York City? I was was just chilling there with my gay son Evan Jacobs. Hey, y'all heard that in this place they got buildings that are almost as tall as me? That's crazy, man. Next thing you know, they'll be making buildings that weigh almost as much as me! They already got buildings that can hit two pointers with more consistency than my gargantuan black ass. Sheeeit. Well, that fool Evan, when he wasn't having hot gay man penis sex, was chillin with with the best ball player of all time. No, not Kobe! Fuck you, man. That ain't funny. I was talking about Diesel. Me! And damn, did we chill hard. We had more fun than I had at the after-after party for the premier of Kazaam, and half the fun I had the night I scored that contract with radioshaq (I'm in charge of spelling). But shit, y'all heard of gay little perverts? This Evan kid was all up in my big black dick. I swear, all he wanted my my autograph and my virginity! But don't worry folks, there's no way I'm ever gonna lose my V-Card to a cracker ass honky. I'm going to save it for a fine big ass black bitch even if she doesn't like her dicks gay and covered with jizz. Anyway, to make a long story short, I had a shaqriffic time in New York City, but now I gotta go practice my free throws. Catch me on my own blog.

Well, wasn't that nice of him to make a blog entry? He sure used a lot of terms that I contained the words "gay," "penis," "sex," "bitch," "black," and "pussy." Wait, he didn't use "pussy."

The reason I am Keifer Sutherland is that it was my birthday a week ago, so I am now 24. Now, 24 is a show on fox. Keifer Sutherland is what makes it great. He really is the show. He is 24. And so am I. Therefore, by the reflexive property of mathematics (if x=y then y=x), if he is the show, then the show is him. 24 is Kiefer Sutherland. Now, by the transitive property of mathematics (if x=y and y=z then x=z), if I am 24, and 24 is Kiefer Sutherland, then I am Kiefer Sutherland. Thus the title of my cock. I mean blog.

People on the street were asked whether or not they were afraid to go on the trains today, because of horrible and gay sex events in London. They mostly said "no," because they felt that they cannot live in fear. That's stupid. I'm afraid. We all know that Al Qaeda, in all of its history, specialized in having two terrorist attacks in two consecutive days in the same exact manner. Don't you remember when they crashed the planes into the empire state building on september 12th? And then when they attacked madrid on 3/11, sure enough, I was on the train the next day and then BAM! My backpack exploded. If you can't trust yourself, you're not winning the war on terrorism. So, in conclusion, I'm scared because Al Qaeda always attacks large cities two times in two weeks. There's no way they space out attacks by years. Saying that this is probably the best possible time to use the subways because they're Al Qaeda proof would be crazy. God, people who say that are such big hot black penises.

Happy Birth Gay To Me! And thanks, Shaq, for coming over. And sorry, the rest of you, for not blogging enough. I'll try to be more on the ball. Hugs and Penises!

Archived Blog May 19 2005

2007-03-26T10:10:00.000-07:00

Thursday, May 19, 2005

Nirvana, Enlightenment, Star Wars: Episode III. Call it what you will.

Before I talk about anything--anything at all--you must watch this movie! I cannot tell you anything about it, except that you will be pleased afterwards. It is not disgusting or violent. In fact, it is softer than most Disney Films. Here it is. www.necoro.com/theater/broad/vp.mov Watch it now, thank me later.

Of course, it isn't as good as Revenge of the Sith, which I saw today. Now, I'm not going to say that I copulated with my underwear during the film, but I definitely won't deny it. The movie was fan-freaking-tastic, un-freaking-believable, and good. A lot of people complain about the dialogue, but I don't think they realize that George Lucas was trying to make the Old Republic era more like feudal Europe. People are chivalrous and over-the-top. It is different with the rebels in the old star wars, but they are rebels, people! Open your eyes. Anyway, I have reached inner-peace, and I am no long afraid of death. That movie was awesome!

In other news, I have taken a hiatus from drinking and certain activities associated with certain cities in the Netherlands. I am feeling great, and I am going to keep it up for the time being. Also, I am experimenting with not taking ritalin, and I have found that this too seems to be going great. I haven't noticed any large changes in my personality.

I don't have a job yet, and am still working on getting one. I also don't have a comedy career yet, and am still working on getting one. But, I am keeping busy, and I will update this blog again soon.

Evan

Archived Blog May 2 2005

2007-03-26T10:08:00.000-07:00

Monday, May 02, 2005

Star Wars and the People Who Love It Too Much --or-- Seriously Texas, What the Fuck?

Hey, it's Evan. But enough about me. First, the news.

Texas has recently passed a bill (or is thinking of passing a bill) that will make it illegal for gay couples to adopt children. Moreover, it will make it completely legal for any adoption agency to background check candidates to see if they might be gay. My reaction to this was "What? What the fuck? Come on! What the hell is this shit?" Your reaction should be along the same lines. Texas is actually trying to stop poor orphans from being adopted. We, in this country, already have enough adoption problems, and many orphans just grow up without stable families. Of course, everyone knows if you have gay parents you will be abused, or so says Cathie Adams, who cited a research study on CNN saying that children of gay parents are eleven times more likely to be abused. When later checked, it turned out that the research study was conducted by the CSLFNA, otherwise known as "Crack-Smoking Liars for Nazi America." The bottom line is this: Texas, your state legislature is full of backwards hicks that should have been long dead because of natural selection. You should be ashamed to call yourself a state under this otherwise great nation. I hope your state becomes overrun with gay people and all your anti-gay politicians are sodomized over and over again.

The Airbus 380 just came out. It is the largest passenger plane ever. Ever! It seats 800 people. You know what that means? It means I am never going to fly on it. But kudos to the french for creating an enourmous flying target to distract terrorists from other planes that they would have attacked before. When you put 800 people on a plane, you are begging for it. Again, you c0uldn't pay me to fly on that plane. It's just stupid. Why not bring back the titanic and hindenburg while we're at it?

Evan's News

The girl situation is as such that I am not really out prowling right now, although I still seem to be single and available. I'll update you.

I saw Sin City twice in the theaters, and it was awesome. The second time I saw it (with Katarina), I started crying. Specifically during the scene in which the character Nancy Callahan is speaking to the character Hartigan while he is in a hospitable bed. I wasn't sobbing or anything, but I have definitely lost respect for myself. I'm just a big old pussy. Anyway, you should see it, because it's awesome.

Star Wars comes out on May 19th. Ever since the first new movie came out, my biggest fear was that I would die before being able to see all three films. Now that the third (sixth) and final film is coming out within the month, it looks like I am in the clear. Truthfully, afterwards I will probably not be nearly as afraid of death as I am now. Jesus Christ, I'm a nerd.

I'm going to start running again for the first time in months. My metatarsal has healed completely, but sometimes I can still feel pinches of pain. This is usually the case with all broken bones, and I will just have to live with it. Meanwhile, one of these days I'm gonna go ahead out and do it. Also, I think I will start taking dietary supplements for weight training so I can become ripped. Then I will look at myself in the mirror sing show tunes.

My industry show went well. I haven't been called by any agents yet, even though there are a handful of people who have. This does not disconcert me, as I think it's too early in my career to be having an agent anyway. Graduation is on wednesday. I am going to pursue comedy indefinitely with vigor. More on that later.

Also, I need a job.

Until next time!

Evan Spencer "The Hammer" Jacobs

Archived Blog April 22 2005

2007-03-26T10:07:00.000-07:00

Friday, April 22, 2005

Are you there God? It's me, Allah.

Hey guys. How's it going? I am now about to update my blog. Get ready. Here we go. Now!

My quasi-girlfriend has now become my quasi-ex-girlfriend due to my inability to be reliable. Personally, I can't blame her. The situation arose out of the fact that there is nobody on this planet who really cares where I am at whatever time. Meeting someone who did clashed severely with my previous trajectory. Anyway, we're going to be friends now so bravo for that.

My comedy school is comign to a close in a couple of weeks. This tuesday, I am having a rather large industry show in New York, where there will be various scouts and agents in the crowd. Thus, I need to perform well. Wish me luck.

I am currently unemployed, and ashamed of it. My parents are also on my case about it, which is understandable. I am trying to get a job, albeit not very hard. Looking for a job is like choosing your method of execution. But, I will find one soon, even if it has to be at starbucks. Maybe I'll get paid to do comedy. That was a joke.

My brother got into stanford. Worship him as your god, people of average intelligence!

In other news, I decided today that I would like to learn how to play abbey road on guitar, without learning too many guitar skills, such as knowing the notes that the strings correspond to.

Anyway, I will talk to you all later and I love you all very much. Except for you. You know who you are.

Evan

Archived Blog April 2 2005

2007-03-26T10:05:00.000-07:00

Saturday, April 02, 2005

Here we are, born to be pope

Hey guys: Makeen (biggest fan), Moez (x-biggest fan), Jon, Maggie, Angela, Azubah, Patrick, Becky, Brother, Mother, Father, Hitler.I am back from Amsterdam, and I had a great time. I probably shouldn't dwell on my activities over there, but let's just say that I didn't break the law. But first, the news!

NEWS:

In Makeen's blog (http://shaquille.blogspot.com) he said that he was suspicious about the death of terri shaivo and then the upcoming death of the pope. What he doesn't know is that the pope is a reverse highlander. In the highlander movie and show, when a highlander kills another, they absorb that victim's power. The pope, however, is a reverse highlander. When he kills someone, he loses power. That is why he is very close to death right now. I'm not saying he killed terri shaivo, but where was he when she died? That's right. He's got no alibi. Now, I am as sad as the next guy about the pope, if and only if the next guy is my clone, but I understand how sad this whole situation can be. What I don't understand is the coverage. As of right now, there are constant camera's on the pope's apartment in the Vatican. The problem is, when he eventually does die (most likely by the time you read this) the camera's are going to be recording the same thing. Just because something is going on over there doesn't mean that there needs to be a visual feed, you dumbass news channels. Leave the pope's apartment alone. I just hope the next pope isn't a white catholic male. I would love a black Jewish he-she, but whatever.

Elsewhere in the news, it seems that they have found intact Tyrannosaurus DNA. Almost immediately after the discovery, there was a press release stating that there were absolutely no plans to clone it. I think this is a huge mistake. I would like to start a group of like-minded people who know that not-cloning a t-Rex is an act of terrorism. We must clone it, damnit! I want to see a dinosaur.

And, of course, RIP Mitch Hedburg and Johnny Cochran, and of course, a premature RIP for the Pizope.

ENTERTAINMENT:

I just saw sin-city. Unlike the rest of you chumps, I had already read the graphic novels years ago. The movie was awesome, especially because it had a detailed scene in which one character rips off the balls of another with his bare hands. Go see it, or I will do what was just described to you.

TWO SELECTED AMSTERDAM STORIES:

I went to the Vincent van-Gogh museum and learned a very interesting fact. I will reveal it slowly. Vincent van-Gogh killed himself. That's not the interesting fact. Vincent van-Gogh killed himself by shooting himself. Again, that's not the interesting part of the fact. Vincent van-Gogh killed himself by shooting himself in the chest. Again, still not the most interesting part. Vincent van-Gogh killed himself by shooting himself in the chest and died two days later. Bam! That's the interesting part. How are you going to die two days later after shooting yourself. Haven't you ever heard of shooting yourself again? Did you only have one bullet? Why didn't you shoot yourself in the head? God, van-Gogh was a dumbass. Good artist, but a dumbass.

When I traveled on the train between two cities in the Netherlands, I had to use the bathroom. I did so, and left quite a mess in the toilet. Being a good Samaritan, I decided to flush it, and just for kicks, watched the ordeal go down. I started my little usage of the toilet while the train was moving, but when I flushed it, we were stopped at the station. As I watched my digested food get flushed, I was horrified to see that a flap opened out of the bottom of the train and dumped it (pun intended) right on the tracks. Right on the tracks! We were stopped at a station. All I can say is that I feel sorry for the people that were still standing on the platform after the train left. There was a big surprise for them there.

That's all for now, more later!

Archived Blog March 09 2005

2007-03-26T10:03:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Gone Amsterdamin'

In this post:
Peter Jennings and my daddy
Evan and his new flame
Evan and Amsterdam
Michael Jackson
Martha Stewart

Peter Jennings and Daddy:

So, about a week ago, there was a UFO show on ABC from Peter Jennings. The show promised to be the greatest amount of publicity the UFO phenomenon has ever received, and it was. The show itself was half smart and half stupid. For my dad's thoughts on it, go to his website http://www.ufoabduction.com. The problem with the show, for me, is that they interviewed my dad on numerous occasions, and ruined a few of my weekdays by confining me to my room or the living room so I didn't bother my dad while in an interview. The process went so far as to require my dad to skidaddle up to new york to work out some business stuff. Unfortunately, and assholely, my dad found out the day before the show that he wasn't going to be on it. Well, good job Peter Jennings. Good job making a show about UFOs and neglecting to put the main expert in the field on the show, if only to debunk him. Next time you do a UFO show, you should try to pull as little out of your ass as possible, and have my dad in it. Jerk.

Evan and his new Flame:

I met a girl off of craigslist who I have been sporadically dating. As of now, she is my quasi-girlfriend. She went to harvard, is intelligent and pretty (and I know she's reading this). More on that when I get back.

Michael Jackson:

Jacko, you are so guilty. It is unbelievable that anybody would think otherwise. If he weren't a pedophile, he would have stopped hanging around kids after the first accusations, but he didn't.

Martha Stewart:

I love martha because all her prisoner friends loved her too. And, if she can make prisoners like her, then I like her, because i love prisoners.

Evan and Amsterdam:

I leave for Amsterdam in two hours. I will be gone until the 28th! Talk to you guys later!

Archived Blog Feb 12 2005

2007-03-26T10:01:00.000-07:00

Saturday, February 12, 2005
It's not friday, but I still ain't got no job.

Hello friends. For this post, I will take a cue from my friend Shaquille O'neal in that this post will be twice as long as it should be. First of all, I will write it in proper english. Then, I will repost it in ebonics from the site gizoogle. It doesn't matter, as it's not going to be a long post at all. The reason I have not been posting is that I got "fired" from my last job. That job is where I started posting to this blog, and now that I don't have it, it's much harder to get myself to write some useless crap here. I have yet to get another job, but at least I can sleep late and work on comedy.

My mom thinks my blog is terrible and doesn't show how smart I am. She's right, but I don't care. It's not like more than three people ever read it. Shit. You guys know I'm smart. I got a BA in Math for christ's sake. Must I continue to prove myself until death? Can't I take a break?

The girl scene is undetermined. I still don't have a girlfriend, and with valentine's day coming up, I forsee having a nice, tear-soaked pillow to sleep on. But don't worry, I won't commit suicide. I did that last valentine's day.

I will try to update this blog more. Right now, I have to go do some internet dating and spider-man skit writing. Peace!

As promised, here is the ebonics version (it will be in red).

Hello friends n shit. fo' this post, i W-to-tha-izzill takes a cue from mah nigga shaquille oneal in that this post will be twice as long as it should be. first of all, i wizzy write it in propa english. thizzen, i will repost it in ebonics fizzle tha site gizoogle. it doesnt killa as its not gonna be a long post at all. tha reason i hizzle not been post'n is thiznat i gots "fired" fizzy mah last job. thizzat job is where i started post'n ta this blog, n now that i dizzy have it, its much harda ta git me ta write some useless crizzay hizzle. i have yet ta git poser job, but at least i can sleep late n wizzork on comedy.

My mom thinks mah bizzy is terrible n doesnt show how smart I am. Shes right, but I dont care. Its not like more than three thugz ever read it in tha hood. Shizzay n' shit. You guys kniznow Im smizzart like a motha fucka. I gots a BA in M-to-tha-izzath fo' christs sake. Must I continue ta prove me until death? Cizzay I takes a break?

The girl scene is undetermined. I still dont have a girlfriend, n wit valentizzles day chillin' up, I forsee ho-slappin' a funky ass, tear-soaked pillow ta sleep on keep'n it real yo. But dizzy worry, I wizzle commit suicide sho nuff. I did that last valentizzles day.

I will try ta update this bliznog more. Rizzay nizzow, I have ta go do some internet pimpin' n spida-man S-K-to-tha-izzit writ'n. Peace!

Archived Blog Jan 26 2005

2007-03-26T10:00:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, January 26, 2005
Life is Awesome --or-- Life Sucks Shit
Hi everybody!First of all, shout outs. What it am, Shaq? What it be, Moez? What it were, Jon Douglas? What it was, Maggie? What it aren't, Azubah? If I forgot anybody, don't blame me, blame my lobotomy. Anyway, happy friday, y'all. I gotta dizzle tonight. This is with a the gizzle I went out with on saturday, the day after I got stood up. We're going to see a movie. I either want to see Million Dollar Baby (The Next Karate Kid 2), or The Aviator (Leonardo DiCaprio? More like Leonardo DaVinci!)

The other day, I found myself making eye-contact with Bill Cosby. He was talking with some lawyers and I kept looking at him, and he gave me the dirtiest look I've ever seen. But, it doesn't matter, because I made eye-contact with Bill Cosby.

I want a six pack. It sucks. I work out all the time, although I don't eat right. But shouldn't that be enough? Some people get six packs and don't even have to work out. Fuck those people. Fuck them right in their six packed asses. Anyway, it's friday, and I'm getting off of work soon, so I will talk to you all next week.

Evan

Archived Blog Jan 25 2005

2007-03-26T09:57:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, January 25, 2005
I don't really hate women... --or-- Marry me, Jack Bauer!! (I'm not gay)
No, I'm not gay (sorry Jon Douglas, Moez, and Shaq. Congratulations, Maggie and Angela.) Anyway, I would like to welcome Maggie Ledbetter and Jon Douglas to my blog again (Jon Douglas has been introduced before). Hi Maggie, how's it hanging. Good? Ok. Ok. Uh huh. Great. Great. Ok. Maggie... I'm trying to write my blog here! Ok, alright.Anyway, I will start off with why I should hate women, but I don't. I had two dates over the weekend. Neither ended with my skeet-skeet-skeeting. So first, the Friday story. I'll give a timeline.

Remember, this girl is the one from my "Bitches ain't Shizzle" post a few days ago.

Thursday, 3:30: Called the SB and asked if we were still on for Friday. She said yes, and to call her back the next day at the end of work.

Friday, 5:00: Called the SB and asked if 9:30@ the west 4th street subway stop was an ok time and place for her to meet. She said yes, and to call her an hour before the date. I said "Uhhh... Why, are you gonna forget?" She said that sometimes she forgets things. So I said "Well, sure, that's great. But you shouldn't forget." Right? I mean, what was she talking about? The date was only in about four hours and thirty minutes. That's a pretty crappy memory. Anyway, I agreed to call her one hour before the date, even though this whole ordeal made me suddenly suspicious.

Friday, 8:00: I called her, no answer.

Friday, 8:00 -- 9:00. I call a few times (she is on a land line), but still no answer. I decide to leave to get to the west fourth street stop in time, giving her the benefit of the doubt.

Friday, 9:36: I get to the west fourth street stop about five minutes late. I figure that if she had been there, she would have still been waiting. No sign of her at all. I walk around, and call her place again. This time her roommate answers. He asked me who I was, and I said I was Evan. When he heard that, he answered where she was. "I think she went out to meet someone for dinner. She said she'd be back soon." I said something like, "Well, she was supposed to meet me." "Uhh, I don't know anything about that. You should call back in an hour." Something was fishy. Something made me think that she had been standing next to that guy the whole time, playing charades.

Friday, 9:50: I call back. It has been more than an hour. The asshole roommate answers again. "Hi, it's Evan again, is SB back from her dinner?" "No, man. She's not back yet. She went out to eat with some guy. Yeah. I think she's seeing someone." FUCKER! "Oh, ok. Well. Thanks for the information. Uhhh.. Bye."

Annoying, right? I'll never see her again, unless of course hell exists and I end up going there. Then, I'll see her for the rest of eternity. What a bitch.

But, the reason that I'm not a misogynist is that I had a date on Saturday that went very well, with a girl I met on--Gasp--craig's list. More updates on that later.

Meanwhile, I just must say that, again, God gives and god takes away. 200000 lives were lost in the horrific tsunami, and all my heart goes out to the victims, but did you see the episode of 24 last night? Did you? It was fucking awesome!!!! Jack Bauer killed like 12 people in same amount of minutes right at the beginning of the episode. Right at the fucking beginning. It was incredible, some of the best TV I have ever seen. Anyway, gotta get back to work.

RIP Johnny Carson. I never watched you, but I hope to follow in your footsteps.

E dawg

Archived Blog Jan 18 2005

2007-03-26T09:55:00.000-07:00

Tuesday, January 18, 2005

It Cold! --or-- Mommy No Likey Da Bloggy!

People of the world, ladies and gentlemen, animals, Moez, Diesel, Jon Douglas, and Makeen (wherever you are), there is something very important I have to say: It colder than a mug, fool. Not that all of you are fools... I was just using the term more to punctuate the end of the sentence rather than insult you. It's so cold that when I go outside, I start to choke on my own testicles, cause they are, you know, all up inside my body. Liquid nitrogen is freezing out here. It's fucking cold! Anyway, what's new? I'll tell you with some good old Q and A!

Q: What do you mean, "mommy no likey da bloggy?"

A: Yeah, I talked to my mom the other day, and she didn't know I had a blog, so I told her the address. She came back to me and told me that I shouldn't be wearing uncomfortable shoes. That's true enough, but I put that post up like two months ago. Also, she seemed to be worried about my saying certain "offensive" language that might get me into trouble. Well, I will solve that problem right now.

IF YOU HAVE EVER BEEN OFFENDED BY ANYTHING WRITTEN IN MY BLOG, IT IS FOR THE SOLE REASON THAT I FORGOT TO WRITE "I CERTAINLY DO NOT BELIEVE THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT:" IN FRONT OF IT. THAT BETTER, MOM? JESUS CHRIST, I CERTAINLY DON'T BELIEVE THE FOLLOWING STATEMENT: I WISH I HAD BEEN ABORTED LIKE MY FIRST SISTER THAT MY PARENTS ALWAYS JOKE ABOUT OR I WISH I HAD BEEN CUT UP AND PUT INTO THE FREEZER LIKE MY SECOND SISTER THAT MY PARENTS ALWAYS JOKE ABOUT. JUST KIDDING. THEY ONLY JOKE ABOUT MY FIRST SISTER. THE SECOND ONE IS A SECRET.

Q: Why you ain't posted in a week, shorty?

A: Well, I've been busy. Ever since my date last week, stuff has been happening, you know? On Thursday I... Well... Nothing happened on Thursday. But then on Friday, I went out and got rocked. Then on Saturday, I went out and got rocked. Besides, I can't post on Friday, Saturday, Sunday, or Monday, cause I'm not at work. I ain't gonna post at home because that would waste my precious time, ya knizzle?

Q: So, what's the news on the ga-ga-ga-ga-girl front?

A: The other night at a bar, I kind of gave a girl my number, but I wasn't really attracted to her. She called me last night. Thus, I am going to have to tell her to fuck off. I'm an ass. On the brighter side, I am going out with the girl who I was talking about in my last post on Friday. That should be really nice. Apparently, I made an ass out of myself but stopped short at "complete ass." Meanwhile, I have been visiting craig's list (newyork.craigslist.org) and responding to the personal posts. The problem is, the only pictures I have of myself are four, in which I am wearing my spider-man shirt (ugh), am holding a Swiss ball over my head a la Atlas, the mythological Greek figure, and am wearing a fake mustache made out of electrical tape. As for that last item, I wish I had a reason to do it. I was completely sober, and had some leftover electrical tape. I mean, what would you have done? Anyway, so I am going to keep at it, and hopefully, I will have a girlfriend (or better yet, harem!) by Valentine's Day.

Q: So, I guess you're going to an open-mic tonight?

A: Wow, I'm happy that you have remembered my schedule so well! But, alas, I am not. I want to go home to work out tonight and then I can work out tomorrow so I don't have work out on Friday so I have time for my dizzle! Ok? Also, I need to stay in. I am running low on the Ritalin, and I need to work on my spec script for arrested development.

Q: So, how's 24?

A: Well... you know... maybe I'm getting older. Maybe I've lost touch with the young people. What I'm trying to say is that IT'S FUCKING AWESOME!!! God bless you Jack Bauer. God bless you.

Q: Anything else to report?

A: Yes. Yesterday, I applied for a passport, which should arrive in six weeks. I am going to use it to go visit Martin and also go to Amsterdam, where I will visit Anne Frank's house among other things. Also, it's cold out here! Cold as a mug. I'm wearing long underwear. Do they make long thong underwear? That would be cool, right guys?

Q: Anything to forgive?

A: I forgive the blackness of Jack Johnson, boxer. I also forgive the indianness of Moez and the banglaness of Shaq. I forgive my own Jewishness. But, I will never forgive the blackness of Jack Johnson! His is what I would call "unforgivable Blackness."

Q: Are you too tired to write anymore, and do you want Moez and Shaq and others to comment?

A: How did you know?Pweeece!

Archived Blog Jan 12 2005

2007-03-26T09:43:00.000-07:00

Wednesday, January 12, 2005
Bitches Ain't Shizzle but Hos and Trizzle, Always Licking the Nizzle and Sucking the Dizzle
Well, I went out on a date last night. Or, more accurately I went over to this girl's house to watch some movies. We watched Troy and the Japanese The Grudge. They were all right. We had fun. We just hung out for a few hours, then the interesting part happened. She walked me down to the door, and stood and talked with me, so I assumed she wanted to kiss. So I leaned in, but she didn't respond. So, like I usually do, I asked her if I could kiss her. She said "not yet." (An addendum to this story is such that the fact must be known then when I am with a girl to whom I am attracted--and especially if I am about to kiss her--sometimes blood gets diverted from areas of my body into other areas. This, combined with the fact that the pants I had been wearing were kind of thin and not helpful, I have a theory that she may have noticed something. However, this shouldn't be a cause of alarm. It's just something I was embarrassed about.) I then said--because we had just been talking about this--can I still call you? She said "of course." So all is not lost. But don't worry, the story gets stupider. So I start walking away, in the rain, and then I realize that I don't have my phone on me. I looked through my pockets, through my bag... nothing! Therefore, I had left it in the apartment. So I went back and rang the buzzer. Actually, I rang two buzzers, because I wasn't sure which one was hers. Then, I went upstairs and I was so sure I had left my phone there. I searched and searched and searched, and then the girl called it for me. And guess what! Of course. It was in my bag all along. I hadn't looked hard enough and I made an ass out of myself. Me stupid. Then, when I left the second time, she offered to walk me downstairs again. I told her that she shouldn't, cause she had already done it once. Then she told me to make sure I closed the door all the way. That's why she walked me down in the first place!! Good job reading signals, Evan. Still, I think she likes me, so I will call her again next week.Tonight: Open mic. Let's hope it goes well.Moez, Shaq, gimme somma da swee swee communz.Evan