There is a website
That’s called Wrestling Observer
What a fucking joke

Here goes.

I work at a business with limited bathrooms. We all have time to use the bathroom, but sometimes you need to take a really nice shit that will decide to have its own hang time. Since we have limited bathrooms, people will occasionally knock on the door while you’re either in the process of shitting or in the aftermath. This isn’t a fun time, especially when your shit seriously stinks. The biggest problem is that you don’t have any air freshener. You sit in the bathroom waiting to walk out and let them into the bathroom, almost right behind you. As you exit you want to say “Hey don’t go in there”, but you feel it’s in such poor taste because you’re a total pussy. I’ve been in that situation and I know how to get around it.

Get in the bathroom and shit. Try to squeeze and cherish and don’t cut any corners. A knock is coming. First thing you do after a knock is scan the bathroom. Since I said there aren’t any air fresheners, don’t bother looking for them. What you do find though, is soap. The key to masking your scent is in the soap. It doesn’t matter if it’s a bar or liquid soap, it’s going to work well enough that you can walk out and pretend it might not have been you. Wet your hands. After you wet you hands, put the bar of soap or a few squirts of some liquid soap in your hands and pretend you’re jerking off your hands with your hands. Once you work your hands fury into a hands lather, spread out your hands and wave them like scent radiating hand fans. Wave your 5 fingers (4 fingers + thumb) x 2 mains around in the air. Wave them in the air and fan around the scent. Put your everywhere hands everywhere. The best move is the pirouette over the toilet with open hands. dont’ be afraid to do the butt-erfly. Either exude the maximum hand scent.

Once you’re finished, put a smile on your face and prepare to leave. As you leave, greet the next person into the bathroom with indifference.

If they ask, proudly tell them the soap took a shit.

I don’t know. I imagine this is what Peyote is like.

Today I was waiting for a train and I saw this girl that literally pushed her way onboard before the other people could get off. She had her headphones on so she didn’t hear the snide comments that came from at least 3 subway exiters. Not cool. Once on the train, I sat down across from her and watched her pull out a copy of “Public Relations for Dummies”. I felt that this was a bit ironic since she didn’t have the wherewithal for common courtesy. I can see she’s really going to go places once she finally gets that PR job.

Then it dawned on me that they were probably all out of “Public Relations for Assholes”.

Asshole.

Maybe I fudged it a little.

Thanks to The Informant for the AccuWeather heads up.

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* Not for use anywhere around me.

The best part about playing Grand Theft Auto on my PSP, is that I get to honestly tell people that I shoot cops on the subway.

My female gymnastics book will probably be called “Land on my face”.

I know, I know.

We’re going to have to cancel our 1st Annual Death Threat Competition. The world’s first contest that encouraged you to create the most believable death threat may be back, but certainly not before everyone is released from jail.

Sorry about that.

I’m here to tell you that our favorite Police Academian, Steve Guttenberg is dead. Our sympathies go out to his family and friends.

Wait no, scrap that. He’s just a really good actor.

But seriously, just tell someone that Steve Guttenberg died today. If they tell one person then you’ve done your job for the day.

I think Yanni’s parents were actually confused about the spelling of Yawni.

At least that’s what I would have named him. He’s boring as hell.

I have a feeling that Usurperman will eventually replace Superman.

I was hangin’ out with some friends the other day and we obviously came to the wondering of what would happen if you named your dog “Breaded Clam Strips”. I guarantee it would be funny to yell “Breaded Clam Strips, sit!” or “Breaded Clam Strips, roll over!” or “Breaded Clam Strips, help Timmy learn the dangers of old wells because he’s making Lassie work OT.”

The funniest part would be when you take your basket of breaded clam strips out to take a shit.

Gotta watch it though. You could accidentally name your dog “Bearded Calm Strips” if you type too fast .

If the front of my knees tastes anything like the delicious chicken skin it looks like, we’re in trouble.

I will not have ANY FUCKING KNEESKINS.

I was filling out a questionnaire the other day and it had a section on it that said “Favorite Philosopher”. After a little bit of thinking I wrote down “Clay”, just to be different.

Everyone else says fucking Plato.

It’s quite confusing that Short Wave Radio is actually a “Medium”.

By the name you’d probably think it was a “Short”.

The other day someone asked me to listen to the exhaust on their car while they revved the engine. They asked me what I thought of it.

I told them it sounded like an “egregious waste of fuel”.

“Fuck yeah! Egregious as all hell!” they said, spending over $200 in gas in the process. Lemme guess, you laughed and cried like I did. But only ’cause you laughed so hard. Like I did.

Gasolols is more like it.

Due to unforeseen problems, the Competitive Eating League for Fishtank Fish (CELFF) has been cancelled. Unfortunately the contestants have all had to be flushed because of compulsive overeating.

We here at the CELFF apologize to the the many fish that lost their lives competing and of course, our complete lack of foresight.

We were only thinking of our CELFF.

What’s the difference between masturbation and cock shiatsu?

For me, about 10 beers.

First it started off with his moustache. No one will ever be able to wear the toothbrush shaped moustache because that real asshole, Adolf Hitler wore it. The stigma of that will last on and on forever.

Now again, he wrecks a perfectly good idea for me. Because of Hitler, kids suffering from ADD will have nowhere to go for the summer.

Concentration Camp is closed until further notice.