Stress Relief

If you’ve ever been through a Walgreens/CVS checkout line, you have definitely seen a stress ball or stress toy of some kind. They come in all sizes, shapes, and colors and they are meant to rid people of vicious murderous tendencies caused by stress due to being overworked, having a non-existent sex life, or having to look after their kids sober because they ran out of Vodka. While I have seen people take full advantage of the stress ball’s purpose, I am not satisfied with their healing features. In fact, I am more so grossed out by these things. Half of the time they look disgusting and those who actually use them to relieve stress leave their greasy hand residue all over them. Some of them look like a normal smiley face ball or a squishy cartoon animal that you can mutilate without the guilty suicidal aftermath. But these days they either look like alien condoms or puss-filled zit clusters.

“This is so much fun! I love getting money shots from used alien cock socks!”

How were these things invented? Perhaps some old scientist grew tired of strangling his wife to relieve his stress and created new fun ways to relieve himself of his demons. Or, maybe these are actually alien condoms sent to us from a galaxy far, far away to control Earth’s population? Maybe these space condoms prevent pregnancy on a higher scale. Say it releases a chemical that is caused by friction that can make men sterile for a year. Oh man, hand those out to schools! Just tell them they are flavored or glow in the dark to make their cocks look like a dicksaber. This will totally put an end to those ridiculous 16 and Pregnant tv shows that are all the rage with the youngins these days.

“Who wants this one?”

Well played Aliens….well played.

Mall Pit

I know I can’t be the only one who is afraid of those mall playgrounds that are all over the place these days. I am no germaphobe, but the amount of bacteria that is transferred throughout those plastic death jungles is horrific. Sure, the disease pits are deloused maybe a few times a day, but there aren’t enough sanitation supplies or enough minimum wage workers out there that could keep them plague free. As soon as they mop up the vomit and foot fungus, the children return to play time and the bacteria returns almost instantly.

Lets play with sickness today!

Parents ignore this fact, as they seem satisfied by the idea that the pits are “cleaned”. I’ve seen people eating soft pretzels and sugar coated lard sticks (churros) inside of those playgrounds. Happily stuffing their faces and watching their children spread bacteria like a hooker spreads the clap. And yes, I am aware that there were worse contraptions that children played on before these mall pits. McDonald’s had those ball pits, which were probably going to cause the next Bubonic Plague if they weren’t eradicated. I used to play in them as a child which is most likely the reason why I have problems as an adult. Those pits are probably the cause of a lot of problems in a lot of people. I can see the class action lawsuit now:

“Do you suffer from Erectile Dysfunction? Do you occasionally experience night terrors or temporary seizures? Did you play in ball pits as a child? You may be entitled to benefits in this class action settlement.”

Thankfully, I only suffer from insanity and have large cravings for cupcakes….

Fashion Trends

One thing that most people would know about me is that I am no fashionista. I care about fashion like I care about old fat ass politicians. Fashion these days change and mutate like new technology, except new technology is exciting and gets me moist. New fashion is basically old fashion, but now it has a new 21st century twist on it. The old monkey suit is redesigned to look exactly how it did in the 60’s, except now it has about 65% less fabric to show off more skin while maintaining the same colors and look of a bloated decorative squash. Most men wouldn’t consider this to be a problem, but half of the female population sporting this trend are 17 and younger.

It’s a trap! You can’t repel the daddy issues of that magnitude!

Really, I have no eye for fashion. I used to have a phase I like to call my “Tent Phase”. This phase lasted from age 15 until 22. I call it my “Tent Phase” because in the beginning I wore huge goth/rave pants and graduated to oversized mens clothing in the end. Not only did it make me look like I had frog ass, it  made me as appealing as butch lesbian with a pronounced mustache. It was all in the name of comfort even if I looked horrible. Though to this day I still dress for comfort. Granted I don’t wear mens clothing anymore, but I’m certainly not going to wear low rise shorty shorts and risk getting arrested for traumatizing people at the grocery store with my dead white legs. But I’ve noticed throughout the years that fashion is getting more and more skimpy. I can only assume that in 20 years it will be acceptable to go outside naked only if your junk is covered with pasties or au natural grown out body fros. Too bad Lady Gaga, I was totally rooting for your telephone hat and meat dress fashion trend to become our nation’s future wardrobe.

I fucking love you, Vegan Devil

What better way to improve the environment by recycling garbage into clothing? Too many black Hefty bags from your murder days? Turn them into stunning evening dresses! Don’t throw out that beer bottle! Smash it and embed the shards into your skin for body bling! Too many heroin needles to throw out? Turn them into stylish new earrings! Wow, maybe I do know a thing or two about fashion after all!

Ice Cream Terrors

I’m pretty sure that Pedobear has taken over the ice cream companies. While shopping today I stumbled across this box of treasure:

“Hey kids, I have some fudge bars in my van if you want some…”

I wonder how they interview people for the opportunity to be on ice cream boxes. What would the job description say?

“Must have a face that would make 7 year old children trust you. Clean shaven or pencil mustaches only. Registered sex offenders welcome! Field experience preferred.”

Blue Bell also have those radio ads with that pleasant country song singing about the happy colorful joy of Blue Bell ice cream. Before, there was a running gag with my peers about these commercials. We would call it “Redneck Ice Cream” and say it was made from breast milk. Now, it’s “Pedo Ice Cream” and it’s made from……well, you get the idea. Point is, I’m never eating this stuff ever again. You shouldn’t either.