Friday Five

Psst, click the link above and get the questions for yourself!

Now, on with mine. …

1. Fat, drunk … and stupid: Light beer sales are set to overtake regular beer sales for the first time, as trend-chasing cattle, er, Americans, latch on to low-carb diets. What1s wrong with this picture? And is light beer a sick joke? Discuss. Meantime, the writers of the Friday Five will keep drinking Bud and Sierra, and not watching American Idol.  

I’ve always been a fan of light beers. That is, till I tasted the sweet nectar of Yuengling. Now, Coors Light really does taste like the lead-infested water from the Potomac River. But I can get down with Miller Lite for dieting purposes. I had lots of sex after drinking Miller Lite (I’m not much of a beer drinker anymore; perhaps if I started again, I could get laid a lil more often!).

And don’t fuck with “American Idol.” The show is fine; it’s some of the contestants who make me want to stab my aorta with a letter opener. (Read: As the winner of the 2004 competition was about to be announced, Ryan Semencrest found a necklace on the floor. He asked whose it was, and Ghetto Fabulous shrieked, “It’s MINES!”)


2. Hershey Lite, please: Candy-makers are now making low-fat and healthy candy, while this guy is breakdancing to lose, oh, 700 pounds! If you could do one non-traditional activity that would help you lose weight, what would it be?  

Masturbating. No question. My Jelly Osaki is the best fucking invention on earth, next to the vibrating bath ball. I’d prefer to have marathon, championship sex, but like I have a dozen toys to choose from, I would need at least that many different partners in order to keep the bonus rounds more interesting!


3. More reasons to avoid fast food: This poor grease-eatin’ schmuck was knifed when he took too long in McDonald’s drive-through. Tragic. But let’s back up: we’ve all wanted to shank an obnoxious customer taking his or her sweet-ass time while we’re in line for something really important, like the bathroom or the bar. When was the last time this happened to you, where were you and who was the self-important jerk? What did you do?  

Oh my fucking god. I am loath to name one single time in which I went out and DIDN’T want to smack someone over the head with my organizer bag.

I’ll give you the most recent example. I was at the dollar store last week, and the schmuck in front of me gave the cashier four items. So he was charged the $4 and change for sales tax. He threw a FIT and said he only had two items. I’ll spare you the agony I witnessed; suffice to say, he’d bought two candle-holders and two candles but assumed a holder and a candle could be sold as a unit. *exasperated, heavy sigh* So he put back a candle and a holder. So now that his purchase totaled just above $2, he handed the cashier a $50 bill.

I still want to hunt that motherfucker down and hold a blowtorch to his dangly bits.


4. More from the creative eBay-er files: In possibly one of the greatest high school pranks of all time, this ingenius soon-to-be grad posted his high school’s building for auction on eBay. (chuckle, chuckle) Yeah, yeah, we remember the rebuffed ex-husband who posted the wedding dress and the guy who auctioned himself, but … what clever item would you dare to auction off on eBay? How would you advertise it? How would you avoid legal implications after the auction?  

At this point, where I am so beyond broke it ain’t even funny (and payday is 11 days away and I’m still half a car payment behind!), I am trying to figure out how to make some fast cash. So I think I will have to sell my bitching services online. Yes, I think that would do just fine. I would target my campaign to (wives of) husbands who get tired of their nagging old ladies — I could harass the hell out of them and withhold sex from them, and by the time they get home to the ol’ ball-and-chain, she will suddenly look appealing to them again. For extra money, I might even toss in a bad blow job. Or is there such a thing? I am sure I could do a bad hand job, though, because of my carpal tunnel.

I would avoid legal implications by saying that I am a family counselor and I went to great extents to save a marriage. 🙂

On second thought, I would rather auction my boss off to a mortuary school as a practice body. And she won’t be dead when I ship her ass fourth-class, but she should be by the time she arrives to the lucky winner!


5. From the “you deserved to be scammed” files: Grandparents now taken for all they’re worth (fine, no more than $800, but it’s principle we’re going after here) by callers claiming to be their grandsons. How, oh how does dumb stuff like this happen? What was the dumbest scam you ever heard? And your explanation for the idiots who fell for it?

Oh, for shit’s sake, I’m sick of these scams. I just heard today about another one where scammers are calling, supposedly from Visa or Mastercard, and basically feeding you all the info about yourself and your card. All you have to do is say yes or no, then give them your three-digit security number. As soon as they have their hot mitts on that number, you suddenly see charges on your account because you were dumb enough to enable them to order shit off the Internet.

All you have to do is get Caller ID. Really. Or turn the phone off (as I am apt to do) and pretend no one is calling. Really, studies show that answering your phone is bad for your mental health anyway — does anybody ever call you just to say hello and ask how you are? Most people call because they want you to do them a favor or lend them money, or they want to say something to you that you probably don’t want to hear (admit it, how much unsolicited advice do you get?). Nobody ever calls to say, “Hi, you mean a lot to me and I just wanted to say I care.” I’d fall over dead in shock if someone other than my mom did that. Hell, I don’t even do it. Hence, you need to remember that, when you pick up the phone, it’s going to end up with you agreeing to do something you don’t want to do. And if you’re that fucking stupid to hand over your credit card information (or, for that matter, give your *real* telephone number to creditors), then you better hold your nose, ’cause you’ll be sailing down shit creek.

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