Monthly Archives: April 2013

“A Rant” – The Bradford Pear Tree

Sometimes I have to admit if god existed he would be one hilarious motherf**ker.  Look at the platypus.  He looks like the unfortunate result of a duck ramming a beaver. He looks nonthreatening, probably gets dominated in the office, and made fun of by his co-workers. His wife is probably cheating on him and his 401(k) is in the shitter. Sucks to be you, glad to be me.

Now playtpuses are fun because you never actually see them, unless you’re at a zoo. They don’t disturb you, and they definitely don’t ruin your day, so I can’t harp too much on some unfortunate creature that is clearly suffering.

platypus2But I can rat on the bradford pear tree. O you slimey piece of sh*t. How do I hate thee.

You smell like jizz. Full on–nature’s load.  This tree is the worst thing to happen to New York City springtime fun.

photo (7)

Every year it seems to be the same story. You’re walking to work without your jacket because the weather is getting warmer. The crisp air still cool from the passing winter meets your face with the sun’s warmth. You nearly get a hard-on from all the possibilities you’re imagining. Warmer weather means less clothes. Less clothes means more skin. More skin is more awesome. On girls.

For the past 4 blocks you were following a hot girl in a floral dress. You’re waiting for her to turn around, maybe look down a side street to really evaluate if she’s hot.  A breeze lifts her dress enough for you to see a lil’ cheek. Noice.

Can it get any better? You’re thinking this is the life–boom! In your face. Up in your grill. The most putrid smell is penetrating your nose like a freshly convicted pedo in lock up. You’re wondering what is going on. Did a dumpster get turned over? Did someone jizz on the sidewalk. You need to breathe so you smell it again, but you don’t see a condom anywhere near you. Then you see it. The f**king bradford pear tree. Nature’s smelly guido. eurotrash2

You run to the subway, Dwayne Reade–anywhere indoors. It’s impossible to escape. Large breathes slowly pick away the smell, but it lingers ungodly long. As soon as you think its gone the meer thought of the stench brings it back. It’s the Freddy Kruger of scents. It makes you think The Happening was a documentary.

You now have PTSD.

That happens every year.

Things need to change. The only solution is to wear a gasmask and chop every bradford pear tree down.  Root the saplings and incinerate their corpses. We need a bradford pear tree genocide.





dogs awyee

A while back I went to Tompkins Square Park with my girl for the annual Halloween dog parade.  We both have dogs that currently live at our respective childhood homes with our respective parents–they behave.  I guess you could say we needed a doggie fix, although I usually don’t like using those words in close proximity. I feel bad for my dog–she didn’t need her ovaries ripped out, nor did my girlfriend’s dog need his balls chopped. But that’s the norm thanks to Bob Barker.

Here are the pictures I snapped up.



This was by far the best costume. For a while the woman with her back fat stuck in her bra was ruining every photo op.  There was a man in the moon costume that shuffled along the side of Elliott and E.T.


Who gives a shit about babies


This lil’ princess was the first cutie we ran up on. The costume and breed may look dainty, but this bich was fiery. She owned it. (8.0/10)




This dog wouldn’t turn around. Asshole.


Probably the most fitting breed for this costume. This doggie was chillllllllllllllllllll. Let everyone pet him. He also didn’t smell like shit.


Dogs immitate humans. Humans immitate dogs. Either way there is waaay too much butt sniffing when any species wears these costumes.




“I’m soo cute. Look at me–in my braids–white teeth–head tilt.” Nobody cares, bro. Get off the dog and walk away. Go play with your dolls or fall off a seesaw. Just get out of my photo.


Typical dog on dog.


Alright, here it is. This guy was insanely cute. Teddy bear eyes, floppy ears, weakest little bark. My heart melts just reminiscing. If only I stole him.


Justin Bieber as a fat pug. The owner didn’t really need to dress him up in a purple sweatshirt, or give him a shitty wig to get the point across–all he needed to do was lift his little body up, show the world his vacant scrotum and we all would have gotten the joke.


Spoiled bich


Definitely high on the cute factor–even though I hate bees. I once shot a bee in half with an air-soft gun. Probably the coolest thing I did in my prepubescent years. I would never do that to this little guy.


Mummy dog was cooOOool. He really owned it! He walked with the stiffness of my **** at a playground.


“A Rant” – Barcelona

What a glorious day.  The sun can’t shine brighter.  After getting raped by Bayern Munich, Barcelona is ass close to getting knocked out of the UEFA Champions League.  Can you taste the disappointment? I know all the Barca fans are withering away in disbelief–“Hhh…How is that even possible?”

Barcelona got bent over and ass-rammed by Bundesliga’s weinershnitzel with a score of four goals to none.  Doesn’t that suck?  In a tournament where rounds are played home and away in aggregate, you’re going to start the second leg down four goals? Holy shit.  Thomas Muller may as well wear a rubber suit with a double strap-on above his shaft.  Maybe Ribery can fuck you with his baguette. Or Arjen Robben can spread his holland-aise sauce all over your face.  All Schweinsteiger needs to do is eye-fuck you with his blue laser (Aryan) eyes and you have one huge Bayern bukkake.


Come next week the Catalonian giants will be out of the Champions League. Thank god. The last thing I need to keep hearing is frat fags saying Messi over and over because that’s all he’s ever heard—as if he’s the brother of Avici.  112fratBros

Yes, he is great—but get off his dick. The midget can run fast, score hard, and do dirty, dirty things with his feet, but he didn’t do any of that today.

Getting back to the Barcelona fans—not all of you are bad.

Sorry that was a joke. YOU ALL BLOW.

Why is it every pick up game has a discussion mentioning the words and/or phrases:  “tiki-taka”, “Messi”, “MESSI”, “yea but MESSI”, “dominate”, “Ronaldo sucks”, “Madrid sucks”. It eventually turns into a discussion of parakeets repeating dumb shit over and over until someone starts the game.  And even then, all the Barca assholes think they’re Iniesta with their footwork but forget he passes the ball.

The discussion happens off the field too.  No Barca fan is afraid of letting anyone know how great they are.  Even if they’re insanely overweight and clearly have no idea of how play ANY sport.  It’s as if knowing the word “Barcelona”, or muttering any player’s name gives them the same recognition as a person who played the game for years.  Listen you fat fuck.  You don’t know shit about soccer. Because you never played. Because no living soul, in their right mind, would pick a fuck like you, unless—clearly unless the goals were as fat as your girth and you clogged the open net. The first thing to pop into your head after mentioning Barcelona is tapas.

I won’t even get into the CD’s who play Fifa ’13 on Xbox Live. I’m sure you’re all aware.

xbox live kid

There’s a million of them—every type and any demographic, the story always stays the same.  You mutter any word connected with the sport and you’re instantly throated with their opinion. And even though I’m spouting mine right now, in an equally distasteful manner, I bet in some way you’d agree.





ZIDANE MATERAZZI(The one true king)