Results filed under: “gmg”
You know who really grinds my gears? I mean, you know who really grinds the bejeezus out of my gears? I know I've said some shit grinds my gears before, but you know who is now grinding my gears like a Chinese woman driving a stick shift? The goddamned diabolical genius who stocks the vending machine on the 3rd floor of my building.
It has got to be the worst vending machine on earth. Instead of Mrs. Fields cookies, it has those awful, chalky cookies with the fake raspberry center. The only flavor of Pop Tarts is brown sugar, which is the Tea Party candidate of Pop Tart flavors: only crazy people and retards want brown sugar. Half the machine is filled with gum. Gum! Hey, its 3 in the afternoon and I'm hungry, you know what would be great right now? ANYTHING BUT A PACK OF FUCKING GUM WHICH MAKES YOU SICK IF YOU ACTUALLY EAT IT.
But none of this should matter, because the machine as chocolate frosted donettes.
Ooh, chocolate frosted donettes, how I love you. You are the best. You are the Yankees. You are Taco Cabana. You are Battlestar Galactica seasons 1-3.
So none of the other garbage in the World's Worst Vending Machine(TM) should matter, but it does, because the diabolical genius who stocks the machine did not give the chocolate frosted donettes their own slot. No, what he did is intersperse the chocolate frosted donettes with the white powder donettes. White powder donettes are the Red Sox. They are Taco Bell. They are Battlestar Galactica season 4
I can leave my office, walk down two flights of stairs (because the exercise makes it okay to eat a whole pack of donettes before I even get back to my desk, DUH), and go to the vending machine, only to find the slot is empty. And I'm okay with that. They are the only tasty thing in that vending machine, of COURSE they'd be gone. But what I'm not okay with, what I will NOT accept, is that I can go down there and find that the chocolate donette is trapped behind a white powder frosted donette, and that the only way to free it is to pay for donettes that I do not want.
I will not pay for the white powder to get to the one I want. I refuse. I WILL NOT BE MANIPULATED IN THIS WAY, VENDING MACHINE OPERATOR. So instead I must play chocolate frosted donette roulette every time.
Fucking diabolical asshole.
"hey fans! im editing the latest new yorker cartoon
, does anybody know what the yankees home uniform look like?"
Yes, that is a Yankee player, batting in the bottom of the 9th, which means he is at home, except he is clearly - CLEARLY!! - wearing the Yankees away uniform. How can I tell? Well, let's see... there are some subtle clues:
Yankees home uniforms have an interlocking "NY" on the chest, the road uniforms say "New York"... hmmm... is there any other clue...
Maybe the fact that the word pinstripes
is synonymous with Yankees! Do you see any pinstripes on that uniform, editor of New Yorker magazine? It is only, WITHOUT ARGUMENT SO DON'T EVEN TRY TO MAKE ONE, the most famous, instantly recognizable uniform in all of sports history.
In fact, the reproduction of the away uniform is so perfect that one wonders if the mistake was done on purpose. If it was meant as a slap to the face of Yankee fans. And don't even get me started on the fact that this guy has facial hair
You know what really grinds my gears? When the gym fills up with fatties right after New Year's. Now, everytime I go to exercise after work in the tiny gym at the condo clubhouse, I have to wait for the treadmill while some 250 pound resolutee uses it. To walk.
Hey, you know what's great for walking? EVERYWHERE. You don't need a treadmill to walk. When you are running, a treadmill helps you hit your distance goals, set your pace, and is easier on your joints. But walking? That's what the ENTIRE WORLD is for, you fat bastard.
And if you'd ever been in a gym before, you'd know that it is common fucking decency to keep your time on the treadmill to 30 minutes or less. If you're going to be walking for an hour, why don't you walk to the store and buy a vegetable or two? Kill two birds with one stone, and then don't eat them this time.
At least I can look on the bright side, and know that after another week or two, you'll give up and climb back into the bag of potato chips you came from.
You know what really grinds my gears? Restaurants where you are expected to do work. Last night, the Suze and I went to this place called Genghis Grill in Houston. We get to the restaurant, sit down at a table, and the server comes over with two bowls. Where are the menus? I wonder. No menus. Just bowls.
We are expected to get up from the table, go wait in a fucking 20-minute line, and then make our own dinner. Sure, they'll cook it for us, but we have to select the ingredients and portions ourselves. It takes our server so long to explain the process that he has to go stand in line with us. If your restaurant requires a training course, you are doing it wrong.
And do I look like a goddamn Iron Chef? How the fuck am I supposed to know what ingredients to select in what portions? Will duck taste good with beef? Should I put pineapples on that? How much Dragon Salt is too much? AND WHAT THE FUCK IS DRAGON SALT SOMEBODY JUST MAKE MY DINNER FOR ME PLEASE I WILL PAY YOU MONEY.
Here's how the economy works, assholes: its money in exchanges for goods and services, not money in exchange for I'll just do it myself thanks. There's already a place you can go where you can select your own ingredients for your dinner. Its called the supermarket.
You know what really grinds my gears? This sentence in today's "Monday Morning Quarterback"
column by SI's Peter King:
A great job by Ed Hochuli in New Orleans late in the first half, fully explaining why he didn't overturn a Scott Shanle
fumble return. Instead of just saying, "The ruling on the field
stands,'' Hochuli explained that Shanle was on his way down and his
knee was on the ground while the ball was beginning to come out of
Shanle's grasp; but because the ball was in Shanle's grasp at the
moment the knee hit, it couldn't be ruled a fumble.
A great job By Ed Hochuli? Are you fucking KIDDING me? That was one of the worst officiating jobs I have ever seen. King also had the nerve to call out the Giants for being "abysmal", "pathetic", and "awful". Funny, I was just thinking the same thing about your column, Peter King.
Let's review together, shall we?2nd quarter, 1st and 10 at the New Orleans 43
. Pierre Thomas runs to the right for an 8 yard gain around a block from wide receiver Marques Colston. Oh, did I say block? Because what I meant was one of the most blatant wide receiver holds you'll ever see. The cornerback was past him, and Colston had him around the throat as Thomas ran by. Instead of 1st and 20 from the Giants 47, its 2 and 2 from the Saints 35. The drive would result in a touchdown.2nd quarter, 1st and 10 at the New York 47
. Brees throws a deep pass for Colston down the left side, covered by Corey Webster. As both players look back for the ball, their feet become tangled, and Colston trips to the ground as the pass lands incomplete. A textbook incidental contact call?
Actions that do not constitute pass interference include but are not limited to:
(b) Inadvertent tangling of feet when both players are playing the ball or neither player is playing the ball.
Nope, defensive pass interference. Instead of 2nd and 10 at the New York 47, its 1st and 10 at the 12 yard line. The drive would result in a touchdown.2nd quarter, 1st and 10 at the New York 34.
The play, above, misunderstood by Ed Hochuli and Peter King. The Giants are driving down the field at the end of the half. Eli drops back to pass, and is sacked. He fumbles the ball, and a Saints player picks it up. As he runs the ball back for a touchdown, he is chased down by a Giants defender. The defender tackles him and jostles the ball loose (replay clearly shows the ball moving out of the New Orleans players hands as he goes to the ground), and pops out when he hits the turf. It rolls into the end zone, where a Giants player recovers it for a touchback. Except the New Orleans player is ruled down by contact!
So what happened? King quotes Hochuli as stating that the ball is in Scott Shanle's "grasp", which is a sign that something is wrong right there. "In the grasp" refers to a rule regarding tackling; if the refs decide a player is "in the grasp and control" of a defensive player, even if he hasn't been tackled to the ground, he may rule that a tackle has occurred. A fumble, on the other hand, occurs when a player loses control of the ball. Since the ball is clearly seen to be coming out of Shanle's hands when he is going to the ground, then the ground did not cause the fumble. The defensive player did.
The result of this play, by the way, was a touchdown.
But wait! There's more!3rd quarter, 3rd and 5, at the Giants 27.
On a critical drive by the Giants that basically sealed their fate, Eli passed the ball to Hakeem Nicks, who had position on the defender. The defender stops, and jumps back through Nicks, who is unable to catch the football because there is a man shoving him. Textbook pass interference? Off course not. The Giants are forced to punt.4th quarter, 4th and 10 at the New Orleans 10
. The final indignity. Forced to go for it on 4th down, Eli rolls out and hits Dominik Hixon for a touchdown. Except its called back by a completely phantom holding penalty on Shawn O'Hara, who doesn't appear to even come into contact with a Saints defender on the play. Pushed back to the 20, the Giants are forced to kick a field goal.
These were not insignificant plays, and there were not just one or two. It was a consistently bad job by the refs that consistently favored the home team. It was blatant and embarrassing and frustrating. The frustration could have been eased if maybe somebody, ANYBODY, had noticed it. But instead all we get is a tongue bath for Drew Brees and "the best team in football."
The Giants defense did not play well, and they might have lost anyway. But it would have been close. Playing against the Saints AND the refs, they had absolutely no shot.
You know what really grinds my gears? TBS Pitch Trax. If you've watched any postseason baseball so far this year, you know what I'm talking about, but in case you haven't: in the bottom right corner of the screen during every at bat, TBS shows this little box that tracks the location of every pitch as it crosses the plate.
Seems innocuous? Then you aren't a baseball fan. Because if you watch baseball, then you know nothing is worse than an umpire whose strike zone you don't agree with. Watching one of my beloved Yankees get punched out on a pitch 6 inches off the plate is aggravating enough without a little box in the corner mocking me and my impotence. Maybe instead of the little box, they could just have someone come over to my house and smack me in the face whenever the ump gets a call wrong. "That's right, Jesse," the little box says, "that pitch WAS outside. And guess what? THERE IS NOTHING ANYBODY CAN DO ABOUT IT! That's right, sit there and stew, motherfucker. Oh, and guess what? That same exact pitch that just saw a Yankee get punched out? Well, now that the Twins are batting, IT IS MAGICALLY A BALL! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!"
I'm not suggesting that the box should be used instead of the umpire. Just get rid of the damn box. Stop granting me and my umpire rage the illusion of technologically infallible proof of my superiority over these horrible, horrible umpires who hate me.
You know what really grinds my gears? Cars that are allegedly "boxy." Like these cars.
THIS IS A CUBE. CUBE. CUBE. HYPERCUBE.
The point is, you can't make a car that is a cube, and then say, "oh no, if we make a car that is a cube, it will have dangerously sharp corners and we'll have nowhere to put the wheels" and then puss out and round it all off, but then still call it a cube as if nothing happened. Your car is, AT BEST, a pair of rectangular prisms set next to each other with their corners rounded with a varying radius of curvature.
Is that too much of a mouthful for you, Nissan? Well, you're in luck, because I've invented a name for just that shape. It's called the Fugly. You're welcome.
You know what really grinds my gears? Somebody who quotes themselves like they were a historical figure. Like, say, in the middle of a presentation, mixed in with quotes from Churchill and Roosevelt and Martin Luther King, Jr., there is a quote from the guy giving the presentation. In fucking quotes and everything, and with a citation.
"I am a pompous douchebag who thinks that their words are so profound that they need to be carried on through the generations." - I.M. Adouche
You don't need to quote yourself! You are you! The reason that quotes exist is so that you can cite somebody's point without stealing credit for their words. But since anybody who gets quoted is obviously a person of stature - how else would we know what they said, and why else would we care - putting yourself in quotes assigns that same stature to you.
At least, that's what you are trying to do. Except it doesn't work, because its such an embarrassing thing to do, that the only status that gets assigned to you is the status of being a douchebag.
You know what really grinds my gears? When people refer to places that are north of your current location as down. As in, "We're going down to Kingwood for the weekend," or "Santa went back down to the North Pole." Is Australia called Up Over? No, it is down under! BECAUSE SOUTH IS DOWN.
Here's a map.
See the A? That's Kingwood. See the B? That's Houston. Which direction is Kingwood? WHICH DIRECTION IS KINGWOOD, SUZI?!?!? HUH? WHICH IS IT, KEVIN? THAT. IS. UP. GODDAMMIT.
Here's how you can justify down to Kingwood.
You can hold the map upside down. Except now you live in notsuoH, you're going down to doowgniK, and people say, "Hey, retard, you've got that map upside down."
I'll allow the following exceptions: If you are on top of a mountain, and the bottom of the mountain is north of you, then yes, you can go down to the valley. That is it. And last I checked, Houston was not on top of Mount fucking Everest.
You know what really grinds my gears? The following things from the airport today:
- Hey, girl across the aisle from me waiting for the plane: are you, at present, driving? I know you aren't, because you are sitting in an airport. So why do you need to talk on the phone using a Bluetooth hands free device? I looked up, and saw a crazy woman shouting at nobody in particular and waving her hands around and looking wildly from side to side. Yes, it would have still been strange if you had a phone in your hand, but I wouldn't have had the urge to tackle you.
- Hey, everybody waiting for the plane? SIT THE FUCK DOWN. They will call you when it is time for your row to board, and standing in front of the gate only SLOWS EVERYTHING DOWN. God, you assholes are the worst. And by "you assholes" I mean EVERY SINGLE PERSON WHO HAS EVER FLOWN.
- Hey, airlines? Get this boarding shit straightened out. I stood on the plane for five minutes waiting for some OCD jerkoff to arrange the bags to all point due south while I stood next to some perfectly good, empty seats. Why couldn't I sit in those seats? Wouldn't it make things go faster if I could sit whever I wanted instead of cramming into the back of the plane? THIS IS INCREDIBLY BASIC STUFF AIRLINES GET IT TOGETHER.
- And, hey, airlines? He's Just Not That Into You? Really? Why not just waterboard me from Houston to Baltimore instead?
[Spoilers about the new Star Trek movie follow]
You know what really grinds my gears? When the climactic scene in a futuristic space movie takes place on a spaceship with a huge, unexplained chasm. The added expense in materials and fuel costs to make a ship huge just so can fit an enormous chasm inside it is incredibly wasteful. No mining company could make a profit wasting money on a ship like that, whether it was from Earth or Romulus. Spaceship With A Huge Chasm Mining Company, at your service!
But not only do you have a huge chasm, but the catwalks over the chasm HAVE NO HANDRAILS. Am I supposed to believe that Romulans have never heard of handrails? Why did Romulan OSHA sign off on this design? How much mining did they have to get done just to pay for the worker's comp insurance?
AND NOT ONLY IS THERE A HUGE CHASM, and NOT ONLY ARE THERE NO HANDRAILS, but YOU HAVE TO LEAP FROM CATWALK TO CATWALK OVER THE CHASM TO GET AROUND THE SHIP.
"Hey, Boss, I'm gonna take my 5 minute break now. I'm gonna go get a cup off coffee. As long as I'm leaping across the chasm to get to the kitchen, can I get anyone anything?"
You know what really grinds my gears? When a television show I'm watching goes to commercial, and all of a sudden IT SOUNDS LIKE THE VOLUME HAS BEEN TURNED UP FIVE NOTCHES AND THE ANNOUNCER IS SCREAMING AT ME ABOUT THE NEW HYUNDAI ASSURANCE PLAN. What the fuck, television? Haven't you been around for, like, 70 years now? Work this shit out! I'm looking at you, FOX, because you. are. the. worst. turn. it. the. fuck. down.
Do you think that having the volume louder on the commercials is going to make me think, "Hey, this is really loud, I should go buy this product because their commercials ARE THE LOUDEST!!!!" No, here's what it actually does: "I'm so goddamn lazy, I'd rather sit here and watch these commercials than lean forward to pick up the remote off the coffee table to fast forward through them, but, shit, if its gonna be all loud, and I need to lean forward for the sound remote, I might as well grab the cable remote and zip through this shit."
I'm the only person still watching commercials in the entire world, and you just ruined it. CONGRATULATIONS. ENJOY THE DEMISE OF YOUR INDUSTRY, BROADCAST TELEVISION.
You know what really grinds my gears? The next 30 days. And not just these specific next 30 days, but these thirty days every year. Personally these days cause me to be a slave to Rose. As the people whose Facebook relationship status reads either "In A Relationship", "Married", or "It's Complicated" (especially those retards) know tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day. Ah Valentine's Day, a day created by the law firm of Hallmark, Zales, & Whitman celebrating love -- well if one defines love as a man trying to appease his significant other but always falling short in the end. No man enjoys Valentine's Day. Some men may enjoy Valentine's Night, but the odds of not fucking up once the entire day and thus nullifying sexy playtime are slim to none. I'm sure rest of you just wind up in the bathroom at 1 AM rubbing one out to your 2009 Golden Girls wall calender like me. (I perfer the month of September because that's when Grandparents' Day is. What about you?)
But Valentine's Day is only the start for me. A few weeks later is Rose's and my anniversary, March 4th (right?). That's another day for "the both of us". More flowers, more cards...all things that you throw out in less than a week a cost a fortune. And you can forget all about sexy playtime then. I mean who hasn't gotten into a fight on your anniversary? But the "fun" doesn't stop there. Only 9 days later and it's Rose's birthday. At least this is one doesn't pretend to be for the both of us. It's her day and I accept that, so I'll do the dishes, take out the garbage, vacuum the apartment, get my own beer, chew my own food...you know, everything that she would normally do for me. It's just a lot to have to deal with next 30 days.
But you know next 30 days, there is something else that you do that I can't stand. Could you have a worse selection of sports? I mean seriously. You know it's bad when on a Sunday afternoon ESPN is showing bowling and women's college basketball. Have you seen SportsCenter recently? For the past week the lead stories have been A-Rod, Michael Phelps, and Brett Farve. None of these sports are even in season right now! They don't even show any highlights until halfway through the show, and it's not like I'm dying to see all of the top plays from the Okalhoma City Thunder vs. the Charlotte Bobcats. How am I supposed to unwind? Oh I know, let's hear about A-Rod for the 10 millionth time. This is all the coverage that they need to do:
"Do you think that this will affect how people view Alex Rodriguiez now Mr. Mackey?"
"Well, uh, see, drugs are bad, m'kay. You shouldn't take drugs."
"And what do you say about Michael Phelps and the picture of him allegedly smoking marijuana from a water pipe?"
"Well, again, drugs are bad, m'kay. You shouldn't take drugs."
"And finally, do you think that Brett Farve will stay retired this time or do you see him trying to come back with another team? Your thoughts."
"Well, see, Brett Farve is old, m'kay. You shouldn't play football when you're old."
Period. End of story. That's all the coverage necessary. These wouldn't even be stories during football season. Michael Phelps could have done lines of cocaine off Caylee Anthony's rotting corpse and people would have just said, "Fuck that, tell me how many fantasy points Larry Fitzgerald got me on Sunday." Oh, I just get so angry at sports this time of year!
So the next 30 days, you here and all I can do is bitch and moan on my friend's blog. I hope you're happy. You bastard...you fucking win...you always fucking win!
You know what really grinds my gears? Pretty much everything about the game of football. Jesse has been making me watch alot of football lately, and I have to say... this game is pretty goddamn irritating. And no. It's not because I'm a girl. It's because
there are just some things are fucking stupid about the sport of football.
instance, somebody tell the quarterback that his job is not to get the football
and then stand there before getting tackled. His job is to throw the
football! Throw! The! Fucking! Football! Throw it! I even get mad when the
quarterback I'm supposed to be rooting against does this. I guess my
anger at somebody paid millions of dollars failing to do his job right exceeds
my caring over who wins some stupid games.
Speaking of not caring: I don't care who is "In The Hunt" for a playoff spot.
This is a stupid phrase. Nobody is hunting anything. Is
phrase even grammatically correct? Do you go "In The Hunt" for deer? No, you go
fucking hunting. And when you catch it, you kill it and eat it. And I
doubt the Dolphins or Cowboys are turning to cannibalism any time soon
(however, this method would ensure a spot in the playoffs).
But that phrase isn't even half as dumb as "Control Your Own Destiny."
Are they "In The Hunt" for a playoff spot, or are they questing for a
magical spear that can be used to destroy mankind? Stop trying to make your
sport sound like a fantasy novel read by pimply teenage boys or a made-for-TNT
And guess what: when I go into a business meeting with a client, I don't stand
up and introduce myself as "Suzi, graphic designer, Rensselaer Polytechnic
Institute." You know why? Because nobody cares what college I went to. (Well,
that and everyone would think I went to a 2-year tech college after earning my
GED.) But if I was a football player, apparently everybody has to know what
college I went to, because it is somehow relevant to what is happening on the
field. Hey, football player who introduced himself as attending the "U
Already Know" yesterday: no, I don't already know. And I don't care.
And finally--quarterbacks who can't be bothered to look up at the fucking play
clock before getting a delay of game penalty... What is your fucking deal? Or
perhaps you just need a refresher on simple math. That's just a penalty
that no one should get unless they want to get flogged in the middle of the
And don't even get me started on the name... Might as well call it soccer. The only time the foot is involved is when they fuck up, and they have to kick the ball to the other team. Hey, fuckupball. Now there is a name that makes sense.
You know what really grinds my gears? Things that claim to never end. Infinity is a scientific concept, not a reality. How dare you tell me that something will last forever or that things will never end. You are violating physics! Next thing I know you'll tell me that the earth was created in 7 days by some magical magician man. Now that's too much.
I'm talking about you Pizza Hut. I find it hard to believe that your PANormous Pizza never ends. IT NEVER ENDS!!! Are you for real [Interrobang] How can you make a claim like that [Interrobang] Watch this commercial
(sorry about the bad quality...I'm too lazy to find something better). When Pizza Hut says that this pizza will never end it actually says on the screen that it is "over 40% bigger than our large pan pizza
". When I'm watching the Golden Girls and the commercials come on and I finally lose my wood from all of the 60 year old sex talk and then I hear something like "pizza that never ends" that is literally a cock tease. How is this allowed [Interrobang] Grrrr.
And what do you think comes on after that Pizza Hut commercial. This commercial
for diamonds. First of all bucko, love doesn't last forever. Just pick up this weeks US Weekly and look at the front cover saying that J-Lo and M-Ant (that's what I call him) are splits-ville. I mean when I think of love their relationship is the first thing that comes to mind. Second of all, I know that you are implying that a diamond is the second thing. I mean it certainly isn't that elderly couple. I think that guy is already dead. I'll give you that diamonds last a long time. But how is anything longer than time [Interrobang] THAT DOESN'T EVEN MAKE SENSE!!! God (Oh yeah...that's what they call that magician guy.) I want to slap someone [...come here Rose...]. I guarantee you that before time ends that diamond will end. So there De Beers...suck on that. You jerks.
And I know that there are probably more false advertisements out there, but lucky for them that they don't make Lifetime's Golden Girl demographic...but maybe they'll make Will & Grace's...hehe.
You know what really grinds my gears? The French language. What's up with all of the unnecessary letters everywhere? It's fricken' annoying. I never know where to stop speaking syllables. I mean look at the title of this entry. Why is there a goddamn 'z'!? What does that do!?!?!? I'll tell ya...it fucks with Americans. I'm sure this is how this ridiculousness started:
Pierre: [in a sleazy French accent] Hey Philippe. Do you know how we can fuck with those silly Americans?
Philippe: [in a sleazier French accent] No Pierre...please tell me how. [Philippe fixes his beret.]
Pierre: Let's add a bunch of letters to the end of our words. Then they won't be able to pronounce them and we can laugh at them...hohoho.
Philippe: Great idea. Now lets smoke cigarettes and masterbate to unshaven women.
I mean take a look at the French word for yes...'oui'. There is no 'w' and there is no 'e'...how can this word be pronounced 'we'! There's not even a consonant in that word! And please tell me how the letters 'eaux' combined to make an 'o' sound. What the fuck! There is a simpler way Frenchies. The worst part is that it's not just one consistent letter at the end of a word either. Examples:
coup d'etat - pronounced: coo de ta (fuck you 'p' and fuck you extra 't')
faux pas - pronounced fo (as in: 'fo'shizzle my nizzle') pa (as in: Your ma and pa are rednecks.)
la langue française suce des boules d'âne - pronounced 'the French language sucks donkey balls'
Now I know that there are a bunch of fat Spedo-wearing Parisian huggers out there that will say, "Hey Daytrader...don't make fun of the French language...it's a Romance language." What does that even mean? A Romance language. I don't see the French language inviting me over to its house for a candle-lit dinner followed by passionate love-making on a bed covered in rose petals; nor do I see it giving me a back rub while I watch a rerun of the Giants beating the Patriots in Super Bowl XLII in my boxers, because those are the only two things that register as romantic in my brain.
And to top it all off French language, you don't even call French fries 'French fries'. Instead you call them 'pommes frites'! Now you're just being assholes. Well thanks to terrorists (and with an assist from the South) French fries are a thing of the past, now we have Freedom Fries, and every letter is pronounced. So suck on that fuckeaux.
You know what really grinds my gears? Andy Samberg. What moron decided that you had any comic ability. On Saturday nights all I want to do is get drunk off of Long Island Iced Teas such that I can find the humor on SNL bearable. It usually works (Although every now and then there is something so un-funny that even my drunk ass can't break a smile, but that doesn't happen too often.) But then when the screen goes black and I see the words "An SNL Digital Short", I want to get a gun and blow my face off. (It is for this reason that I have cut back to 5 LIITs instead of my usual 8.) Andy, no amount of alcohol can convince me that you are funny.
Fans of yours (i.e. people with an IQ below 40) think that your style of "comedy" is akin to that of Adam Sandler. Listen, just because you're a Jew with the initials A.S. doesn't make you funny. Your first "movie" Hot Rod
grossed approximately the same as Sandler's first film Billy Madison
, which was released in 1995 back when the average price of a movie ticket was $4.35. In 2007 when your piece of crap film came out the ticket prices were on average 50% higher. I'm sure Hot Rod
and all of your fine acting in Laser Cats
(BTW there are sequels!) helped you snag the lead voice role in the animated blockbuster Space Chimps
(yeah, I hadn't heard of it either).
So Mr. Samberg I ask you to stop subjecting me to this type of retarded comedy. Try something else. Why not try your act in the Middle East? I'm sure that you could show them how great life is in the Western World. If that doesn't work, I'm sure you can get a job with the Blue Collar Comedy Tour -- they're always looking for horrible comedians. Or better yet, why don't you sit down and watch one of your Digital Shorts after you've had 8 Long Island Iced Teas pumped into you. Don't worry, I'll make sure that the shotgun is within reach.