2009... You hurt like a hangover

By Jdizzle on 3:13 PM

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Well…like most of Tiger Woods’ sponsors, 2009 has come and gone. Personally, I am glad to see 2009 go and before it has a chance to disappear completely, I would like nothing more than to tell 2009 to suck a fart out of my ass. Hopefully most of you, like me, will be celebrating and bringing in 2010 three sheets to the wind because as most of you know, proper holiday behavior is to be drunk. I will be pissing the night away (cue Chumbawamba) with friends and a Ziploc full of ribs. Tim, I shall thank you ahead of time for the wonderful ribs as I will be so drunk that anything will seem ok, even anal sex...wait.. As we bring this year to a close I thought I would share some of my favorite moments from 2009 and a few of my resolutions.

Favorite/most memorable moments of the past year go to…

  • Chris Brown introduces his fist to Rihanna (cue Rihanna’s song “SOS”). Chris Brown then gets upset because he thinks that some major stores are refusing to carry his new CD. Brown then turned to his Twitter account for some encouragement and anger management help. He said that stores aren't stocking the CD, and that he is being "blackballed." He also said that the industry can "kiss my ass.” He takes his anger out on Twitter because he knows the Twitter Bird can't hit him back. Then, when he realized nobody cared, he deleted his entire Twitter account. You’re a rapper dude. I thought that’s what rappers did was get “blackballed”…ass.

  • Tiger Woods is publicly outed as a cheater. Dear Tiger, didn’t anyone ever teach you that you don’t sleep around on your Swedish blonde bombshell of a wife with nightclub VIP hostesses and one very mannish looking…err…woman?

  • Simon Cowell should kiss Susan Boyle’s ass. She rocked Britain’s Got Talent with I Dreamed a Dream and showed the world that an unemployed 47 year old single lady living alone with her cat Pebbles in “a collection of, a collection of, a collection of villages” [yeah that’s it] can sing.

  • Jersey Shore premieres on MTV. Read my blog post regarding Douche Bags. That will explain the premise of the show.

  • Lindsay Lohan goes to India to film a BBC Three documentary on child trafficking. If you thought this had international incident written all over it, you were right. She tweeted that she’d saved 40 children as part of one day’s work. The actual organization that helped the children took two months in planning the raid, not one day; they also carried it out before Lindsay even arrived in India. Way to help those children Lindsay or should I say Mother Teresa?

  • The anti-intelligent Carrie Prejean sues the Miss California Pageant Officials for over a million dollars believing she was fired for her anti-gay-marriage ramblings. She was claiming “religious discrimination.” Reportedly a lawyer for the pageant showed her a…wait for it…sex tape and that shut her up. The lawsuit was then mysteriously dropped. I wonder why? Stupid bitch.

  • Latricia Whitman called 911 over a McDonald’s order. “I ordered a 10-piece chicken nugget with a small fry, and she said we don’t have nuggets,” said Latricia. I love that the operator acted like she was willing to help, asking, “Is there a manager there? OK, I’ll send an officer.” I’m calling bullshit. You know with a name like Latricia, that bitch ordered a 20 or 25 piece, not some silly little 10 piece.

  • Mary Strey, a 49 year old woman in Missouri, called 911 to report a drunk driver. This is great, unless the driver you’re reporting is yourself. “Are you behind them?” the operator asked. “No, I am them.” Really? “I am them.” That’s your best response? Well, in her defense she was drinking, driving and talking on a cell phone at the same time. I guess kudos are in order for her multitasking skills. Remember, if you are going to drink and drive; drive someone else’s car.


    • I don’t know about you, but I have mixed feelings about fools like these. First off, they bother me. Ok, so “bother me” is putting it nicely. Most of the time I want to shank them with the shiv from my keester stash. On the other hand, they bring me glorious entertainment with their shenanigans. Makes me just want to pull up a lawn chair, pop some popcorn and enjoy the show.

    As it is with tradition, I have come up with a few resolutions to work on once 2010 has commenced. Just like every other year, I’m sure that I will inevitably lose sight of these goals. I’m hoping that I will at least last the first day of the New Year before reverting back to my self-absorbed assholeness.

    The winners of the 2010 Resolutions are…

  • I am adopting a no-apology policy for what I say. If you feel that I have offended you in anyway and you would like me to issue an apology, this will be my statement: “You would have to be a complete fucking moron to think I was serious. The end.” The only person I have apologized to is my mother and that was court ordered.

  • I will do better at pretending to care, as long as it does not conflict with the first resolution.

  • I will try to be less of a dick to the hopeless, slack-jawed, gum chewing, cell phone yammering, blue eye shadow wearing, stuffed into spandex, lashes by Tammy Faye, hyper-as-a-yappy-dog, mouth breathing moronic populace as long as it does not conflict with the first or second resolution. Hmmm…. I’m guessing this resolution will get used as much as a treadmill would at Kristie Alley’s house.


    • Here’s wishing you a great and bile-less New Year. To those of you that feel the need to list dieting as one of your New Year resolutions, I hope this quote from Jay Leno helps you along on your daunting task.

    “Now, there are more overweight people in America than average-weight people. So overweight people are now average… which means, you have met your New Year's resolution.”

    A Toast, Kristen

    By Jdizzle on 1:52 PM

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    So… my roommate Mike sent me this lovely post, A Toast, Jedidiah, from a gal named Kristen. First off, thank you Mike for sending this post my way. I love it and I am really liking some of her other posts. It sounds like her and I may have been twins separated at birth. If you know me, then you would know that her recap post fits me flawlessly. Second off, I would like to welcome Mike back to the gym. Those ellipticals have missed you. For those of you that don’t know yet, Mike finally purchased a gym pass. Oh… by the way Mike, your TV called and it misses you too.

    Back to the daunting task at hand. You are welcome to click the link above, open a new window, read Kristen’s recap of Sean's post, and navigate your way back here or you can just read my recap of her recap about Sean's post and stop wasting your computer’s memory with all those open internet windows.

    First and foremost, I must salute you Kristen and Sean (not that either one will ever read this, or even know who the fuck I am), your recap and post should win a prize for its brutal honesty and clarity. Shall we begin?

    Neither Kristen nor I could picture ourselves being in a relationship with someone. There are so many things that I do by myself and to myself. I will eat alone, sleep alone, put my cigarettes out on the bottom of children’s feet alone, laugh alone (mainly at my own jokes), go to the gym alone, blah, blah, blah, etc. I don’t mind doing stuff with other humans, it’s just so taxing dealing with others’ schedules and it annoys the hell out of me to stray from my everyday routine. I understand that I have a DVR (Digital Video Recorder), but that does not mean I need to overwork it and run it into the ground. It’s not a ten year old in a sweat shop people!

    Envisioning me in a loving, committed relationship is something that I have a hard time wrapping my head around. In fact, just writing about it has caused a fever blister to manifest on my lip. UGH! I have now dubbed my new friend Bob Loblaw (Arrested Development). You may call it Bob as you stare at it and giggle. Honestly, I would probably take pleasure in being with someone. Knowing that someone will be there, having them ask about your day, and wanting to go do things together gives me that same warm and fuzzy feeling that vodka does. Just as long as they knew I had complete control. Complete control. No silly checks and balances system here.

    I have always said that I need a part-time boyfriend. Only around when I want him to be, and as far away from me when I don’t. Friday night through Sunday night would be perfect. A full-time relationship takes too much consideration and it’s not something you can just run away from like the dinner check or a crying baby. Mike would say I am like a cat, and he is right. I want a boyfriend to be loving and affectionate when I want it and LEAVE ME THE HELL ALONE OR I WILL SCRATCH YOUR EYES OUT when I don’t. And just like Kristen says, “He should have dark hair and a British accent.” Is that too much to ask for?

    I’m sure if you took all of this information and put it together in some elaborate complicated mathematical equation, the ending conclusion would be that I am a self-absorbed asshole. Ding, ding, ding, we have a winner. No more phone calls please. Truthfully, I am just an anti-social person living in a fantasy world where I am always right and I never get screwed over at the drive thru or take out. So, if you see me out in public, just remember a few things. Rule number one, unless you come served in a frosted glass, do not come within three feet of my lips and Bob Loblaw. Two, when you’re speaking and making jokes, just remember that I have a fake laugh with your name written all over it. And finally, I judged you at the door. It’s a safe bet that I think you’re stupid, shallow and a common whore.

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