11/18/09
Handlebar, my moustache.
This is the first day for my handlebar moustache, as it grows, you will see it. I figured it'd be just a testament to my manliness.
11/10/09
The Center of the Universe
I had an idea for a coffee-table book and I thought it was pretty awesome. It combines both literary and photographic art and will be the most honest book you'll ever crack open.
It'll be called the "Center of the Universe," and it'll consist of a very simple formula. I take pictures of my penis and I write poetry for the picture. Now before your thoughts wander off I just want to clarify that these dick-pics won't just be some boring mugshots, because if that were the case I'd rename it "Gary Busey, the Legacy." No, these pictures will be majestic. Like my penis with a cowboy hat leaning on a railing watching the sun set.
Marlboro Dick aside, I think this book would be a hit. It has the every man appeal and also the coffee-table book collector appeal. Not to mention, it'd really jumpstart my career as an edgy artist.
I had some time to myself and I decided to give a sample of a poem, the picture will come in a later post eventually, I guarantee.
It'll be called the "Center of the Universe," and it'll consist of a very simple formula. I take pictures of my penis and I write poetry for the picture. Now before your thoughts wander off I just want to clarify that these dick-pics won't just be some boring mugshots, because if that were the case I'd rename it "Gary Busey, the Legacy." No, these pictures will be majestic. Like my penis with a cowboy hat leaning on a railing watching the sun set.
Marlboro Dick aside, I think this book would be a hit. It has the every man appeal and also the coffee-table book collector appeal. Not to mention, it'd really jumpstart my career as an edgy artist.
I had some time to myself and I decided to give a sample of a poem, the picture will come in a later post eventually, I guarantee.
Fierce and quick,
he's the first pick.
My penis rises above many,
transmits like antennae.
For as they say:
It is not the size of the boat,
at least I hope because I have a small penis and I'm extremely self-conscious.
11/9/09
Women in office
Just to preface this post, I wanna comment on black people and how much better than whities they are.
They run faster, please women faster, speak faster, etc.
But what truly shows black people are much faster than us crackers is the passed election. Think about it like this: Women had a 200 year head start to make the presidency and the black man not only caught up to them, but surpassed them and won the primaries.
God. Damn.
Obama ran some olympic presidency there, but that just goes to show you that women will always take a back seat to man. Palin had it right, stick to the VP position.
That's why there is no WUSA, no female presidency for us to keep track of (or skip over when trying to find the real presidency on television). D.C. is ours, ladies, I'm sorry. Even the abbreviation for our capital has half of the letters from the word DICK. You see, just like when Tina Fey became a lead writer for SNL the ratings sank. You can't have a woman spear-heading anything unless you want it to crash and burn. Morphius discovered Neo, not Nairobi. Neo saved Zion, not Trinity.
What more evidence do you need?
They run faster, please women faster, speak faster, etc.
But what truly shows black people are much faster than us crackers is the passed election. Think about it like this: Women had a 200 year head start to make the presidency and the black man not only caught up to them, but surpassed them and won the primaries.
God. Damn.
Obama ran some olympic presidency there, but that just goes to show you that women will always take a back seat to man. Palin had it right, stick to the VP position.
That's why there is no WUSA, no female presidency for us to keep track of (or skip over when trying to find the real presidency on television). D.C. is ours, ladies, I'm sorry. Even the abbreviation for our capital has half of the letters from the word DICK. You see, just like when Tina Fey became a lead writer for SNL the ratings sank. You can't have a woman spear-heading anything unless you want it to crash and burn. Morphius discovered Neo, not Nairobi. Neo saved Zion, not Trinity.
What more evidence do you need?
Don't smile at me, hot bitches
It really pisses me off when uber attractive ladies wave at me, let alone give me the smile. You know the smile, right? It looks a lot like this:
If anyone more attractive than you offers this smile, do all the ugly people of the world a favor and dropkick her directly in the cunt. She deserves it for being a cock-teasing bitch.
I'm a 5, I know this. So when an 8.5 or higher ever gives me the smile, I get angry. Why? Because it's empty. That smile has absolutely no meaning to it whatsoever, it doesn't mean she wants me to approach and speak with her, it doesn't mean I'm looking good. All it means is she accidentally made eye contact with an ugly mother fucker, and now she needs to do something nice so I'm not insulted.
Well listen up, ladies... It's more insulting when you smile. You're flaunting your shit at us and we have nothing.
I called an attractive woman out on her smile last week; I asked, "Whuzzat for? You clearly don't mean it!"
And with an almost insulted face she replies, "I'm just being polite."
Polite?
That isn't polite, because now I have to go home and fantasize about her rather than watch porn. Porn is efficient, it assists in my masturbation for a speedy process. Fantasizing is exhausting! I break a sweat, arch my back, cry, etc, when I fantasize.
Do you have any clue how much dexterity it takes to imagine a woman's vagina, let alone have sex with it imaginarily?
Stop smiling at ugly people, attractive douchebags.
11/8/09
Fatiquette - Let's do skinny people a favor
I'm no model, folks. In fact, I'm pretty much overweight. I'm not morbidy obese by any means, but I can definitely rank "fat" on a scale of fatness. I'm not ashamed, it's my own lazy self that makes me fat, I can't blame it on anyone else. I play MMO's, I overeat, and I avoid exercise like the plague.
HOWEVER.
I do manage to look less fat with a technique most fat people develop subconsciously, I call it "fatiquette." Fatiquette is followed by the socially acceptable fat people trying to coexist with the more attractive, fit people in the world. People make friends with chubbies who follow fatiquette, no matter what their weight is.
The first level of fatiquette is based on the optical illusion. One must first remove all excessively baggy clothing, excessively tight, striped, bright, or "one piece" items of clothing from their closet. You should only wear clothing that hugs areas of you that are more appealing than others. For instance, I wear shirts that hug my chest because I don't have man-titties. Yet on that same token the shirt also lets my gut breathe so it doesn't look like a garbage bag full of slop. Another good idea is to wear hoodies, dark ones. Dark hoodies (especially with the zipper) work wonders for when you sit down. You keep the hoodie open so the hanging cloth covers your rolls and love handles. That way we're not staring at this:
Building on the first level, "sucking it in" is important. However, we've all seen people who suck it in too much and look like an unproportioned cartoon. Well, here's my tip for "sucking it in": Stay even.
In other words, don't suck your gut in so it passes your chest, keep it even with your chest so it looks like you have a generally big torso.
Level two fatiquette is a true physical challenge. It involves "looking good in front of your friends."
Setting: The Golden Coral (buffet)
Party: You and your 3 friends (all of which are skinnier than you)
What to do: Hawkeye the most physically fit member of your party's plate, observe his proportions and choices. Do not get exactly what he/she gets, but rather stick to the same basic floor plan. Don't look like a pig, you aren't allowed to exceed whatever they are eating. That means if they don't get seconds, you don't.
Protip: Eat slowly and drink a lot, it fills you up and it won't let you sit idly while waiting for your buddies to eat. It'll relieve the urge to go up for seconds, I promise.
Once the night has completed, you may go home and binge eat because all that buffet shit was just an act. It was a ploy to "look good in front of your friends." That's right, you'll be leaving little thoughts in their head like:
"Maybe he isn't so fat, maybe it's a medical problem."
Or
"Maybe he isn't fat, maybe he's just a big guy."
And your clearly sloppy, chubby, disgustingly rancid, fat ass can go back to offing the milk-cartonesque container of Goldfish.
The other side of this level is the most physically grueling. Now some of you may be asking what could be more grueling than not getting seconds at the buffet? How about physical activity?
Things to know:
The escape route is much different for fat people. The escape route is the lie we fabricate so we "can only hang around for like a half-hour."
The final level of fatiquette is knowing how to pull the trigger first. Crack jokes on yourself, fish for compliments, and also keep a positive demeanor no matter what. If you uphold these levels, you can maintain your weight and remain the "better chubby person" in your clique of friends (because we all know there's more than one, you need to be the better one).
HOWEVER.
I do manage to look less fat with a technique most fat people develop subconsciously, I call it "fatiquette." Fatiquette is followed by the socially acceptable fat people trying to coexist with the more attractive, fit people in the world. People make friends with chubbies who follow fatiquette, no matter what their weight is.
The first level of fatiquette is based on the optical illusion. One must first remove all excessively baggy clothing, excessively tight, striped, bright, or "one piece" items of clothing from their closet. You should only wear clothing that hugs areas of you that are more appealing than others. For instance, I wear shirts that hug my chest because I don't have man-titties. Yet on that same token the shirt also lets my gut breathe so it doesn't look like a garbage bag full of slop. Another good idea is to wear hoodies, dark ones. Dark hoodies (especially with the zipper) work wonders for when you sit down. You keep the hoodie open so the hanging cloth covers your rolls and love handles. That way we're not staring at this:
Building on the first level, "sucking it in" is important. However, we've all seen people who suck it in too much and look like an unproportioned cartoon. Well, here's my tip for "sucking it in": Stay even.
In other words, don't suck your gut in so it passes your chest, keep it even with your chest so it looks like you have a generally big torso.
Level two fatiquette is a true physical challenge. It involves "looking good in front of your friends."
Setting: The Golden Coral (buffet)
Party: You and your 3 friends (all of which are skinnier than you)
What to do: Hawkeye the most physically fit member of your party's plate, observe his proportions and choices. Do not get exactly what he/she gets, but rather stick to the same basic floor plan. Don't look like a pig, you aren't allowed to exceed whatever they are eating. That means if they don't get seconds, you don't.
Protip: Eat slowly and drink a lot, it fills you up and it won't let you sit idly while waiting for your buddies to eat. It'll relieve the urge to go up for seconds, I promise.
Once the night has completed, you may go home and binge eat because all that buffet shit was just an act. It was a ploy to "look good in front of your friends." That's right, you'll be leaving little thoughts in their head like:
"Maybe he isn't so fat, maybe it's a medical problem."
Or
"Maybe he isn't fat, maybe he's just a big guy."
And your clearly sloppy, chubby, disgustingly rancid, fat ass can go back to offing the milk-cartonesque container of Goldfish.
The other side of this level is the most physically grueling. Now some of you may be asking what could be more grueling than not getting seconds at the buffet? How about physical activity?
Things to know:
- Novices make up medical conditions and fake injuries.
- Smack-talking is a horrible idea.
- DO NOT WEAR SWEAT PANTS.
The escape route is much different for fat people. The escape route is the lie we fabricate so we "can only hang around for like a half-hour."
The final level of fatiquette is knowing how to pull the trigger first. Crack jokes on yourself, fish for compliments, and also keep a positive demeanor no matter what. If you uphold these levels, you can maintain your weight and remain the "better chubby person" in your clique of friends (because we all know there's more than one, you need to be the better one).
11/7/09
The Beef 'n' Cheddar fiasco.
So, just as a preamble to this story I want to express my love for Arby's. It's unhealthy, it's delicious, and it's also a guaranteed trip to the toilet. In other words, it's perfection.
Because Arby's dominates all other fast-food chains it has to have a sandwich that dominates all the other competition. McDonalds has a Big Mac, BK has the Whopper, Wendy's has the Baconator; so what does Arby's have to combat this stiff competition?
Ladies and gentlemen, the Beef 'n' Cheddar.
Not only does it follow my sandwich theory, it builds upon it. It's not some generic burger, it has a real "special" sauce (unlike Mac sauce which is just thousand island dressing), and it has onion bread. Even the bread has been taken into special consideration. There is nothing better than sinking your teeth into this food and just letting those sauces and juices ease on down your throat... Damn.
Now that I've defined my love for this sandwich, I want to now express my hate for stupid ass hoes. SAHs are those chicks who get attached to their boyfriends right away, the kind that'll do anything to stick with you. SAHs are fun and all, they put out early and make for some crazy ass times. However, when you're done with them they are not ready to end the symbiotic relationship. They have a dependency on you now, and you need to take some drastic ass measures to get rid of them.
Needless to say, this story is about me not being drastic enough.
I was dating this extremely sexual girl. You know the kind that puts out and puts on if you buy dinner or hold open a door? Easy stuff, really. Anyway, I had my fun with her until she started hinting at me that she was feeling a little bit more than a dating-level friendship. So I cut it off before anything escalated to the point of me being cornered and forced into saying things I don't mean (yes, you women are devious creatures). I didn't do it angrily, nor did I do it stern enough for her to understand I don't even want to speak to her anymore.
A few days pass and I have to deal with her constant texting and calling to try to "work things out." There's nothing there hun, I didn't have any butterflies in my stomach (contrary to what I might've lied about).
Now before this story continues realize that she started showing SAH signals before I even laid eyes on her cash and prizes, it was pretty one-sided physically.
So there I was eating a Beef 'n' Cheddar in my room, thoroughly enjoying the fantastic experience when there goes my phone vibrating.
1 New Media Message.
"Oh, a picture." I think to myself.
One hand is occupied with the phone while the other is dealing with God's food, I flip my phone open and take a good look at what I see. It was unclear at first, it was a distortment of colors I couldn't comprehend, or it could've been my brain trying to save me from the sight.
I read the caption to straighten my thoughts.
"If you leave me, you'll be missing out on this."
Folks, I say this now... The eyes are the windows to your soul. I support this statement 100%, because when I realized what I was looking at my very soul cringed. It seemed as though I was staring at not one but two Arby's Beef 'n' Cheddars, however one has a much messier bite taken from it. Both images, the real and the digital, fell to the floor and I sat shocked.
She won. At the cost of our relationship, I now have to feast on a Double Quarter-pounder with Mac Sauce and cheese for I will never sink my teeth into an Arby's Beef 'n' Cheddar again.
Because Arby's dominates all other fast-food chains it has to have a sandwich that dominates all the other competition. McDonalds has a Big Mac, BK has the Whopper, Wendy's has the Baconator; so what does Arby's have to combat this stiff competition?
Ladies and gentlemen, the Beef 'n' Cheddar.
Not only does it follow my sandwich theory, it builds upon it. It's not some generic burger, it has a real "special" sauce (unlike Mac sauce which is just thousand island dressing), and it has onion bread. Even the bread has been taken into special consideration. There is nothing better than sinking your teeth into this food and just letting those sauces and juices ease on down your throat... Damn.
Now that I've defined my love for this sandwich, I want to now express my hate for stupid ass hoes. SAHs are those chicks who get attached to their boyfriends right away, the kind that'll do anything to stick with you. SAHs are fun and all, they put out early and make for some crazy ass times. However, when you're done with them they are not ready to end the symbiotic relationship. They have a dependency on you now, and you need to take some drastic ass measures to get rid of them.
Needless to say, this story is about me not being drastic enough.
I was dating this extremely sexual girl. You know the kind that puts out and puts on if you buy dinner or hold open a door? Easy stuff, really. Anyway, I had my fun with her until she started hinting at me that she was feeling a little bit more than a dating-level friendship. So I cut it off before anything escalated to the point of me being cornered and forced into saying things I don't mean (yes, you women are devious creatures). I didn't do it angrily, nor did I do it stern enough for her to understand I don't even want to speak to her anymore.
A few days pass and I have to deal with her constant texting and calling to try to "work things out." There's nothing there hun, I didn't have any butterflies in my stomach (contrary to what I might've lied about).
Now before this story continues realize that she started showing SAH signals before I even laid eyes on her cash and prizes, it was pretty one-sided physically.
So there I was eating a Beef 'n' Cheddar in my room, thoroughly enjoying the fantastic experience when there goes my phone vibrating.
1 New Media Message.
"Oh, a picture." I think to myself.
One hand is occupied with the phone while the other is dealing with God's food, I flip my phone open and take a good look at what I see. It was unclear at first, it was a distortment of colors I couldn't comprehend, or it could've been my brain trying to save me from the sight.
I read the caption to straighten my thoughts.
"If you leave me, you'll be missing out on this."
Folks, I say this now... The eyes are the windows to your soul. I support this statement 100%, because when I realized what I was looking at my very soul cringed. It seemed as though I was staring at not one but two Arby's Beef 'n' Cheddars, however one has a much messier bite taken from it. Both images, the real and the digital, fell to the floor and I sat shocked.
She won. At the cost of our relationship, I now have to feast on a Double Quarter-pounder with Mac Sauce and cheese for I will never sink my teeth into an Arby's Beef 'n' Cheddar again.
Dirty Kids
I'm graduating this year, but I don't feel all too excited. My peers aren't the future, they can't be, and if they are I'm going to punch myself in the cock a few times over. I look around my school, the mall, and even the various concerts and shows I attend and I see people my age with ridiculous piercings, dyed black hair, and horrible clothing.
No, they aren't goths, emo kids, metal-heads, or anything along those lines. These people are "dirty kids." The scum of the damn earth, really.
If dirty kids didn't exist, I wouldn't be a closet World of Warcraft player and I would be able to admit I like a few Metallica songs.
But I can't because of this stinky sub-culture.
Much like the theory in which parents make things "uncool," dirty kids essentially commit to the same mission of spoiling the good stuff for clean kids. Because when you're talking about your level 78 paladin the last thing you need is for some kid with baggy UFO pants and a stained "Master of Puppets" shirt coming up and shitting all over the conversation by trying to associate himself with you.
Here are a few signs too look for when spotting a dirty kid.
- Thin, unmanly facial hair.
- Dirty or black dyed hair.
- Master of Puppets, Pantera, Slipknot, ICP shirt.
- Baggy, chained UFO pants.
- Naruto headband (optional).
- Excessive gaming talk.
- Liking bands "before they sold out."
- Horrible breath.
- Axe baths.
11/6/09
An important thing #1
Sandwiches:
Clearly one of the most important things in the world, sandwiches make up one third of the "triumvirate of importance" in my life. Anatomically, this food is perfect. Imagine all of your favorite foods piled on a piece of food, then you conveniently place another piece of food on the top of this pile.
Delicious.
You know sandwiches are perfect because it's the only food Batman would ever keep on his utility belt. It's portable, customizable, delectable, and it's also cheap! Sandwiches dominate the portable world, look at their competition:
No contest.
Clearly one of the most important things in the world, sandwiches make up one third of the "triumvirate of importance" in my life. Anatomically, this food is perfect. Imagine all of your favorite foods piled on a piece of food, then you conveniently place another piece of food on the top of this pile.
Delicious.
You know sandwiches are perfect because it's the only food Batman would ever keep on his utility belt. It's portable, customizable, delectable, and it's also cheap! Sandwiches dominate the portable world, look at their competition:
- Gogurt
- Apples
- Cup-o-Noodles
- Granola bars
- Slim jims
No contest.
Introduction - Ska & Sexism
Hello, readers! Welcome to Inkubate, the musings of an aspiring comedian and actor. Before I tell you folks a little bit about myself I just want to clarify the title of my blog; the title is a cross between "ink" and "masturbate." Why? Because I love writing and I love masturbating, therefore I have the clever title "Inkubate," which is not to be mistaken with "incubate" which is what chickens do to their eggs to keep them warm.
Anyway, I just want to extend a welcome and tell you folks exactly what to expect from this blog. 90% of this shit is based on my thoughts, which usually gravitate towards food, my worship of black people, masturbation, women and trends often followed by people my age.
Now, if you are one of those intelligent pricks too high on your horse to enjoy toilet humor I'd suggest navigating away from this page. However, if you're also one of those people who walk around with their mouth open, I'd ask you do the same because it is evident my toilet humor is more of a hotel bathroom rather than a gas station lavatory.
I suppose I can tell you people a few things about myself since this is my first post, here's a list because I've become extremely lazy at this point.
Anyway, I just want to extend a welcome and tell you folks exactly what to expect from this blog. 90% of this shit is based on my thoughts, which usually gravitate towards food, my worship of black people, masturbation, women and trends often followed by people my age.
Now, if you are one of those intelligent pricks too high on your horse to enjoy toilet humor I'd suggest navigating away from this page. However, if you're also one of those people who walk around with their mouth open, I'd ask you do the same because it is evident my toilet humor is more of a hotel bathroom rather than a gas station lavatory.
I suppose I can tell you people a few things about myself since this is my first post, here's a list because I've become extremely lazy at this point.
- I listen to ska.
- I sleep with the television on.
- I watch a shit-ton of TCM.
- Both of my parents were immigrants.
- I'm 50% Greek.
- I'm motivated when dealing with my passions, but I'm otherwise lazy.
- I happen to love women, but I love them even more as a punchline.
- I worship "the blacks."
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