Besides having two left feet and a strut as smooth as Frankenstein, I’m pretty sure this guy likes to party. I know it’s always a doozie when you see a video is ten minutes long, but believe me, you don’t want to miss this unicorn of a YouTube video. Rob Zombie looks like he decided to chug a handle of Kentucky Gold, pop some mescaline, and eat twelve xanax bars before deciding to make a morning trip to the convenience store for some much needed Budweiser. Either that, or he’s made out of jello.
The extent of this guys drunkenness is fucking amazing. I wish I was there to buy him that Bud Heavy and see where it takes him.
Here’s an abbreviated list of things I wish I could see this guy perform following his trip to the gas station:
- Ride a bicycle
- Play on a moonwalk
- Enter a limbo competition
- Run with the bulls in Pamplona
- Win a game of jenga
- Eat a meal with a fork
- Spell his name
- Do the stanky leg
“Senior citizens, although slow and dangerous behind the wheel, can still serve a purpose.”
Old people are awesome. They are like children, but old. Plagued with innocence and armed with the reaction speed of a turtle, these senior citizens exemplify why all of society feels sorry for them.
Don’t get me started on the choir leader. That guy is a fucking cartoon character and should be tarred and feathered for this Borat-worthy performance.
If these old people knew the meaning of the words they were singing, they would probably implode.
Beeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnns! We all missed you and hope you didn’t subsequently die of an overdose after this picture was taken. I’m pretty surprised to see Beans with a female. I was under the impression that this guy mated with grizzly bears but apparently he dabbles with retarded girls, too. Look at her face, there is no way she doesn’t have a lisp and speak with a deaf persons voice.
I’m not even sure what to say about the red shit.
This picture is awesome. If I could have this pic blown up to at least 24″x36”, it would be hanging on the wall in my place. How can you not love a pregnant redneck woman holding a watermelon and a glock. Crazy white girl isn’t even smiling, which means she’s serious, which is scary.
“Dadgummit, I knew we were supposed to get our glamour shots taken today for our Daughters of the American Revolution scrap book, but I lef all ma props at the house. All I had in ma truck was a big ‘ol watermelon and this here pistol.”
Everyone say hello to Pizza the Clown. This picture straight up gives me a bad feeling. It’s like a creepy version of a picture that you’d see on the wall at Chili’s. Who the fuck becomes a clown anyways? It’s definitely the creepiest of all professions. You dress up like a fag, you name yourself something ridiculously stupid, and your job is to be with kids all day. Sketchy. I don’t know about you guys, but I’ve always hated clowns with a passion. Talentless hobos, all they have to do is sit there and look stupid. My dog can do that. I would feel a lot safer if a dog were around my kids instead of this fucking douche with a testicle as a nose.
If you watch this clip from “Hot Rod” and don’t laugh, then you probably are about as much fun as a quadriplegic at a dance party.
You probably already noticed that I have incredibly blue eyes.
This is straight up awesome. I want to do a play by play and rip on every comment from this video, but then this blog would be longer than my… nevermind. It’s Monday morning and I’m sure that some of you are still hung over from this weekend so just let the video do the talking. This is so much more legit than eHarmony. Enjoy.
“I’m looking for the goddess. Are you the goddess? Who is the godess?” WTF.
I knew I loved this company when they collabed with Etnies and came out with shoes that read “FUCKING AWESOME” across the heel. Then, when they dropped their fall/winter collection lookbook that featured vagabonds as their models, I just about peed myself. This line really is “Fucking Awesome”.
Whats better than having old ass bums as your models? Absolutely nothing. Not only can you pay them with a 40 oz. or some crack rock, but they make the photographer look like Estevan Oriol. I mean look at these dudes. These guys look like they are coming out of a 14 month blackout and they are making modeling look easy. The first guy has no idea what the hell is going on, staring at the photographer like “Who the fuck are you and where the hell is my dadgum shopping cart? I got sardines in there.”
Bahahaha. Come on. Really? This one is the essence of humor. A bitter-beer faced, old black man rocking a shirt that reads “Fucking Awesome”, and staring off to the distance like a supermodel, while itching his crotch like a crack head. It honestly doesn’t get more clever than that. I bet the guys that started this line are cool as shit and got these bums all boozed up and introduced them to a bunch of pretty ladies afterwards. Think about that awkward interaction. I mean that is exactly what I would do if I were them. Can you imagine these guys wandering around the launch party aimlessly, staring off into space and mumbling shit under their breath? I don’t know about you guys, but I think thats a mental image worth making a reality.
“I got this gay shirt on with some alien on it and these crazy ass fags are taking pictures of me.”
This guy is an exemplary bum. He looks like one of the grumpy, pissed off homeless guys that just yells shit at you when you walk by. He’s even giving the photographer the “What the fuck are you looking at?” face. Completely awesome. They probably had to do some Crocodile Hunter type shit to get this guy into the studio. “Crikey, this guys a fiesty one. Lets use the tranquiliza dawt and shoot him right in the neck and get him to calm down niiiice n easy before we transport this beauty.” I’m pretty sure they risked their lives bringing this guy in.
Not only do people have the audacity to rock shirts that explicitly display four letter words, but there’s also that same market for footwear. I almost bought these guys, then I remembered that I have parents, and my parents wouldn’t think these are fucking awesome. It’s one thing to say it every other word on your blog that is written by an alias, but it’s a totally different beast walking around with shoes that literally scream “Fucking Awesome”. My Mom would literally wash my mouth out with soap for wearing these, which is kind of rad if you think about it. I can totally see some punk 15 year old hipster kid rolling into his parents house with these bad boys on thinking how cool he was. Then, subsequently crashing back to reality once his mom throws these things away faster than his dime bag of shwag he left in the dirty laundry.
Props, “Fucking Awesome”. You had the balls to release a clothing line that is named after a phrase you dropped after watching Shark Week. I don’t think you’ll be moving your offices to Madison Avenue anytime soon, but I commend you for launching shirts that are so hipster, that even the gnarliest of mustache sporting, skinny jean wearing, pseudo-intellects can’t even wear them.
Hey good looking American’s. Another yachty weekend is in the books and my gosh was it a doozie. I’d like to thank a lot of people, but most of all, I’d like to thank my friends Ryan and Kerry for falling in love and having a wedding so we could turn Chateau Elan into a jungle gym.
The weekend started out great. We did the whole “Let’s go out for a beer or two on Friday, wake-up early and make an early tee time.” That never works.
Once the good times start goin, we said “F the tee time”, and the next thing I know I’m waking up on my buddies couch with a crick in my neck and a mouth dryer than Lake Lanier circa 2007. Fast forward to 3:30pm and we’re arriving at Chateau Elan, barely missing our 10am tee time. After taking our time and drinking a few cold beers, we were ready for a fantastic night of drinks and dancing with old friends… and their Moms (ow ow).
I walk into the wedding ceremony smoother than Bill Clinton at a single mothers fundraiser. Everyone is all smiles and enjoying the old friends and faces that we haven’t seen since high school. Right after being seated, I get a phone call from a randar number. The person on the other line sounds like a female crying, and I’m thinking to myself this can’t be good. She claims that she is my ex-girlfriend and that she had something very important to tell me. I step out of the room and the girl on the other line that sounded like recycled death tells me that she is pregnant. As you can imagine, my face turned white and my jaw smacked the floor. I apologized repeatedly as I racked my brain wondering how the hell this happened. I assured her that I was willing to do anything to help and told her I called her back immediately following the wedding.
I got back to my seat and told two of my best friends the most devastating news of my life. My anxiety is higher than Jack’s beanstalk and I’m sweating like Chris Farley on a 3 day bender. I was contemplating how f*cked my life is and how the hell this happened because I hadn’t been “talking” to her recently. I then get a text from a certain asshole named Matty Barnwell reading, “Call me now. It’s bad. Everyone knows.” As you can imagine, my anxiety jumped ten fold to the point where I was shaking and about to puke in the middle of a wedding ceremony. FML.
After the “I do’s”, I run outside the room and call the dickhead back that had texted me. He answers and says, “You got punked.” WTF!
I don’t know who the fuck raised this kid, or whether or not they even showed him where “the line” was, but he most definitely crossed it. I wanted to be mad, but I was so damn relieved all I could do is laugh and feel the sensation of my anxiety come falling back down as if I had eaten 13 zanzibars. Honestly, those ten minutes seem like an eternity and probably the worst sixth of a hour I’ve ever experienced. Fuck you Mat, that may have been funny in your fucked up little brain, but I was pregnant for 10 minutes and I didn’t like it. Kudos for the planning though, you knew when the wedding started and where I was at the time. Bad choice of subject matter.
The rest of the night was a reward. We went on to the reception where the yachtiest band in the world was playing. Yacht Rock was there to keep the wedding A-squad, and boy did they keep things smooth. Everyone was dancing like madmen with class, and I managed to drop about 6 Crown and gingers on the dance floor, which always means things are going well. Shout out to Chateau Elan staff for swiftly cleaning up the glass everytime. No one was phased though, they just kept on dancing like they were born to do. It was just like the closing scene of “Slumdog Millionaire”, minus the Indians and the choreography.
Post-reception, the wheels really started turning. The bride and groom sped away in their “Just Married” golf cart, with soup cans following closely behind. My genius self, and one of my most esteemed high school friends, decided it would be totally legit to steal the golf cart. We managed to high-jack the vessel and boy was that a good decision. We ripped up the Chateau like Lindsay Lohan at a table piled with cocaine. We were giving joy rides and we managed to get the golf car on two wheels multiple times. All the while the cans were jingling and the Chateau staff was chasing. I even managed to throw off one of my friends that I really don’t even like that much. WIN!
We marched on to Paddy’s Pub where Jager bombs and freshman year of college antics ensued. We all thought it would be a great idea to go nuts– and we did. One friend of mine puked all over himself and his beautiful girlfriend. She was about as glossy eyed as Latrell Sprewell and was letting us all know that he’s ok “because she’s a nurse”. One friend got escorted home in a wheel chair. Another one of my good buddies even broke his nose, compliments of Don Francois himself. I would go into detail, but all you need to know is that it was in good fun, and that the littlest of paps in the nose can break it. We then put a night cap on the evening by ordering room service– to the lobby. It was like a scene off of Planet Earth where a pack of lions are tearing into a wildabeast carcass, except for it was a group of young men in their twenties hovered around an appetizer sampler. Classay.
I think a text from my friend, whose nose now resembles Owen Wilson’s, sums up this past weekend. It read, “I woke up in my car, I pissed myself, and I have a broken nose…. but I had a great time.” That a boy, way to keep shit positive.
Weekends are for winners, and we won. If you take away anything from this pointless story, I think one might benefit from learning how to pull a prank that is appropriate. Pranks about death, suicide, pregnant ex’s, or rape are probably crossing the line, so prank accordingly.
This guy has managed to actually be more stupid than he looks. I saw an article about this dude in a stall in Florida when I was down there last weekend and I knew it was blogworthy.
This dumb fucker must be one of the stupidest people on Earth. Two weeks ago in Tallahassee, Florida, this man genius went to the drive-thru teller and deposited $200 cash, a deposit slip, a bag of weed, and a small bag of cocaine into the bank. WTF? Are you kidding? This dude must have been whacked out of his brain or just literally the dumbest person to ever drive a car. Honestly, how fucking stupid can you be to put that shit in the canister, look at it, not think anything of it, and then shoot it over to the bank teller?
The teller tipped off the local police that a fucktard driving a white SUV had deposited a misdemeanor and a felony. The really smart guy realized what he had done and went BACK thru the teller line to get back his ganja and nose candy. Much to his surprise, the police were waiting there for him. When asked about it he replied, “If you said that I did it, then I did it.”
Way to play your cards there home slice.
I pray this guy doesn’t have kids.