Friday, July 18, 2008
Thursday, June 5, 2008
Wham-o Mfg. Co.
835 East El Monte Street
San Gabriel, CA 91778
Dear Mr. Wham-o,
My name is Dooshy and I heart slip n' slides. I have been a slip n' slide enthusiast for many years now. I just wanted to take the time to write to you to let you know how much happiness your product has given my family, my friends, and especially myself.
I feel so fortunate to have grown up with slip n' slides. My friend Vladimir is Russian. Back in the motherland they did not have slip n' slides. No wonder the USSR always seemed so bleak! Anyways, Vladimir got to experience a slip n' slide for the first time last weekend. I have never seen him happier. If you ever want to sell your product in Russia, I thought of a great idea for a slip n' slide commercial.
Check it out.
You show a bunch of Russian government officials at a meeting in the Kremlin. They all look very serious. Two of the guys look very anxious and keep checking their watches. Finally, the meeting is adjourned and these two guys run outside to the back yard of the Kremlin where they have a slip n' slide set up. Then the rest of the commercial is just them enjoying the slip n' slide. Also, they are wearing those Russian furry winter hats. Oh, and the slip n' slide should be red and look just like the Soviet flag.
If you do not mind, I would like to learn more about history of this great product. Also, what does the future hold for slip n' slide? Are you working on any cool new models? Any fancy new adaptations? I would love to hear about any slip n' slide news. I think you guys should start selling slip n' slide accessories. That way you could build a totally sweet, mega awesome slip n' slide.
Anyways, keep up the good work. I am sure you get tons of fan mail about slip n' slides, and I appreciate you taking the time to read my letter. If everybody owned a slip n' slide, I doubt we would have any wars; just a whole lot of grass stains.
Slip n' Slide enthusiast since 1987
Thursday, May 22, 2008
First a question:
Do you look exactly like Richard Simmons or are you an oversized faux-Mexican version of Richard Simmons... Ricardo Simmons?
"Aiy! Dios mio! There goes Mexican Richard -- I mean Ricardo -- Simmons."
This could actually be an advantage for you if you were able to create a very successful spin-off exercise business. I am imagining you on Univision right now doing a commercial during a soap opera. "Have you eaten too many burritos? With my new sweat into the oldies (La Bamba playing), you can drop a whole chulupa and look fabulouso again."
I think your argument about my vomiting contains some fallacies. You are connecting regular vomiting with projectile vomiting. This isn't puking on some dude sitting next to you at the bar cause you had too many Smirnoff ices like I did last night.
This is exorcist-style vomiting across the room.... and when they remake that movie, having this power ensures that I will get that role.
BAM. Movie star quality poon.
Now, movie career aside, there will be some problems with getting laid while being a projectile vomiter. The only chicks I can get with my power are bulimics, who envy my abilities. Also, 300 lb chicks whose options for getting laid are limited to me or fellow dooshblog poster Black Mamba who likes em' deuce and a half or bigger.
I also feel like you're missing some of the advantages of my super power. For example, let's say you want to get out of doing anything (exam, going to see a chick-flick, going to work, or maybe your wife or girlfriend wants to drag you to a Richard Simmons book signing at the Mall). You can get out of it by "having the stomach flu".
Also, what about getting the most perfect revenge on everyone who has ever pissed you off.....or had sex with your sister in the back seat of a car...while you were driving...and then you had nightmares.... and had to see a shrink... and couldn't get an erection for 2 years... but that is neither here nor there. Anyways you get the point.
Payback is a bitch. And it is an even bigger bitch when it involves projectile vomiting.
Now if Richard Simmons could projectile vomit, then we would have something.
I will end with a quote from Wayne's World:
Garth Algar: Uhm, Wayne? What do you do if every time you see this one incredible woman, you think you're gonna hurl?
Wayne Campbell: I say hurl. If you blow chunks and she comes back, she's yours. But if you spew and she bolts, then it was never meant to be.
Friday, May 16, 2008
Here's the question:
Would you rather RECEIVE FELLATIO from Britney Spears' head on top of Patrick Ewing's body (which looks something like this)
...or would you rather HAVE SEX with Britney Spears' body with Patrick Ewing's head (which looks something like this)?
Chico and I have differing opinions on the matter. In fact, we spent the past week questioning one another's sexuality. We'll break down each side of the argument for you and let you decide which one of us is gayer.
Personally, I would rather have sex with Britney Spears' body than receive head from well....her head. First of all, if you go with the BJ, it means you are receiving head from a dude. Gender is determined by genitalia and last time I checked all those parts are located below the neck.
Second, proportionally you are dealing with a lot more Ewing when you have his 7 foot frame attached to Britney's head. At least with the sex, you are dealing with a normal sized body. I am not 6'5" and therefore I would have to stand on a step stool for Britney Spears' head to line up correctly with my chode.
Also, I think that odds are Patrick is a lot less annoying personality-wise....so having his head/brain is actually in some ways an advantage as you don't have to listen to Britney's idiotic whining.
Now, there are many questions that need to be answered.
For example, where exactly are the vocal chords located? What I mean is, do I have to listen to Patrick groan as I give it Britney's body? If so that hurts my argument. Or are the vocal chords lower and will Chico hear Ewing's grunts coming out of Britney's mouth? Also, can you bury Patrick's huge head in a pillow?
There are limited positions that you can do because physics tells us that Brittany's torso will not be able to hold up Patrick's head. Therefore, one is limited to missionary or doggy with the head on the ground. It certainly bolsters my argument if you can cover the head with a giant pillow. It would be much harder for Chico to drape a giant sheet over Ewing's body.
Finally, does anyone find out about this?!?! No matter what you choose, if people were to know about your Patrick/Brittany exploits it would not be good for business.
It would be much easier to explain to people that you banged Brittany and then say something like, "Her face looks different when she takes off her makeup."
On the other hand, Chico would be forced to say, "I got head from Britney Spears. As an aside, did you know that she has a giant schlong and wears knee braces?"
For me the choice is clear...what say you Chico?
Friday, May 9, 2008
Judge for yourself here.
It is not just his incredible voice, which is a toneless mix between Scott Stapp and Eddie Vedder. Its like the members of Creed all shit in a bucket after a long night of eating laxatives, borscht, enchilladas, and glass shards.
He is the cup in 2 Girls 1 Cup.
His true genius lies in his lyrics. He speaks the truth about relationships:
No one understands me,
You can't feel my pain.
No one understands me,
Life is one big game
(now the music gets really hardcore)
but I lose the game for yooooouuuuuu
what I say is truuuuuuuuueeee
No one understands me,
my heart hurts real baaaad.
no one understands me,
and that makes me saaaad.
How can one cope with this sheer brilliance? My unworthy ears melt, my inhibitions dissolve, my panties moisten. He speaks directly to my soul. He has MAJOR LABEL INTEREST.
My God, Joey Linello is the next Bob Dylan.
He has recently blessed his adoring fans by answering some questions:
Q: "Dude, are you for real?"
A: Like I said, Jesus blessed me with great looks, and the ability to rock. But, also I have had a lot of pain in my life. The emotional kind. For example, when I was a teenager, my parents really didn't understand me at all. That pain is real. For most people, being a teenager is all proms and parties and stuff. Sure, I went to prom (actually, I was prom king my senior year) and I went to a few keggers. But, there was also emotional pain. They didn't understand that. SO YES, THIS IS FOR REAL.Here are some more incredibly awesome lyrics:
We said that we would wait till marriage
But still, I touched your bosoms.
We would french kiss at the movies
I'd buy you roses by the dozens
But then some loser caught your eye
Some guy who doesn't pray to Jesus
He has no major label interest
So what could you see in him?
can he flex his pecs like me?
can he rub your bosoms like me?
I'll have a private jet
I'll have a huge jacuzzi
A mansion like a palace
But you won't be there with me
Jesus will judge you for leaving me!
Monday, May 5, 2008
Last December my office was sent a Christmas card from our contact at a company we use for marketing materials. This card included a DVD from Scientology that was basically a bunch of fake commercials for "doing the right thing" as it showed various real life situations. This of course makes perfect sense. Only people who isolate themselves from their friends and family, give all their money to build technology to communicate with science fiction characters, and are total dooshes are capable of doing the right thing. In return I sent the woman from the marketing company a huge dreidel and marked the box "Jewish Butt Plug." I explained that by inserting the dreidel in her rectum she could prevent the evil lord Xenu from giving her an anal probe.
Monday, April 28, 2008
A recent investigation into Southern Douchebag (Homo Sapiens Douchbageous Sud) mating rituals has revealed a startling truth: Southern Douchebags are a migratory species, much like the Monarch Butterfly (Danaus plexippus). This brand of Douchebags migrate to the Foxfield horse race every year in order to breed with other douchebags who are endowed with similarly-sized trust funds.
Our crack team of Douchebag specialists was recently able to infiltrate this breeding ground, and came away with a number of startling observations sure to puzzle douchebagologists for some time.
Extensive tranquilizing and sampling operations ("Bagging and Tagging") have revealed a startling mix of douchey genetic materials from across the south, including several minorities. To be sure, the minorities also dressed quite douchily. It appears that contrary to previous assumptions, there is a significant difference between Southern Rednecks (who inbreed religiously) and Southern Douchebags.
The Foxfield race itself was truly a sight to behold. On a personal note, the event itself made the years of painstaking research into Douchebags worthwhile for this team. We were surrounded by a cornucopia of douchebags, in larger numbers and higher concentrations ever before observed in the wild. It was as though the series of "Left Behind" books had come true and the Apocalypse was upon us.
Several observations are worth noting: First, it appears that the characteristics that set douchebags apart from normal humans are emphasized even more when they are concentrated into large groups (of 1,000 or more). Thus they were extra-douchy. Frankly the levels of douchebaggery witnessed at Foxfield exceeded anything previously observed anywhere in the known Universe.
You can't make this shit up.
The females of the species were much more uniform in their appearance, though they were often seen wearing giant hats, which suggested an attempt to either disguise themselves as Speedy Gonzalez in a sombrero or else to appear like Carmen Sandiego.
A ridiculous Carmen Sandiego-type Hat
Thongs and boobage were frequently visible. However those female douches were generally "fugly", leaving this author merely at "half-mast."
Female Southern Douchebags
It is believed that the strict adherence to this retarded dress code is a form of Peacocking, wherein douchebags must out-douche their rivals to impress and later nail potential mates.
Finally, two bizarre and incredibly douchy behaviors were observed:
1) Slap fights (we're not shitting you), where plastered Douchebag males slap each other as hard as possible in the face.
This baffles our team. The ritual appeared to accomplish nothing, yet involved a large crowd of cheering douches. We speculate that this skill may be useful in piloting a sailboat, managing a trust fund, or owning a plantation. Much more research is needed in this area.
2) Piss-trough sliding.
Males were observed collecting money in exchange for sliding in a trough full of piss. As they are mostly wealthy and enjoy exploiting minorities and poor people, it is hard to ascertain what the exact motivation for this particular ritual was. Further observation is again required.
In conclusion, Goddamn these people suck.
Friday, April 25, 2008
As a member of the tribe this is very hurtful. Especially after some schmucks swatted my yarmulke and gave me a vicious titty twister.
Let's take a look at a few prime examples:
- Paul Pfeiffer from The Wonder Years - In addition to being Kevin Arnold's lifelong best friend, Paul has thick glasses, gets good grades, is uncoordinated, and is allergic to everything.
- Lawrence "Chunk" Cohen from The Goonies - Chunk is the quintessential fat kid. He is obsessed with Baby Ruth candy bars and his friends are always raggin' on him asking him to do his fat kid dance (the Truffle Shuffle). He is also known for making up ridiculous stories. I mean why couldn't they have made the fat kid more like Augustus Gloop from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory? Don't you think it is time we made ze Germans into the fat losers? I mean they kind of owe us...
- Charlie "Fink" Finklestein from Beerfest - Plays the nerdy scientist who is only on the beer drinking team for his scientific knowledge of beer. He wears a yarmulke that keeps getting knocked off and thrown around.
Why can't the Jewish character also be the All-American, popular guy who gets all the chicks......................................................................
- Arthur "Fonzie" Fonzarelli from Happy Days- Leather jacket, double thumbs up, catch phrases, mad bitches, and the ability to start the juke box with one tap. Basically the definition of cool. The Fonz was played by Jew-boy Henry Winkler.
- Gene Simmons from Kiss - Gene Simmons (real name Chaim Witz), besides being a rock-god, he has allegedly slept with over 4,600 women.
- David Lee Roth from Van Halen - Another rocker "Diamond Dave" is also renowned for banging tons of chicks. Unfortunately, he is clearly a total doosh.
- Ron Jeremy - Ron Jeremy (real name Ron Hyatt) has a masters degree in special education...... and is the most famous porn star of all time. He can fellate himself.
Therefore I am proposing a Jewish superhero. Not a joke like in that movie The Hebrew Hammer, but a real superhero.
Perhaps by day he is a mild-mannered accountant.
But by night he beats the shit out of thieves, and then takes the stolen money and makes sounds investments in a diverse portfolio using his super market sense.
That should get rid of all those ridiculous stereotypes!
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
The real genius - and a testimony to the level of dooshdom that exists in our society - was how these bastards were able to market it. Basically they managed to successfully re-brand body spray (at least in the eyes of dooshes) by showing commercials where hot women throw themselves at dirty-looking guys who use the spray.
The message: You're an unattractive dude. But if you apply this feminine body spray, hot chicks will want to nail you.
This is not the first time a manufacturer has used this method to sell a feminine product to men. Back in the days when women used more hair product than men, someone started marketing hair mousse to men. In the commercial the slogan was, "Are you man enough for mousse?"
This, of course, was total nonsense. No one says, "Are you feminine enough for our penile implants?"
Yet this works. What else could marketers convince dooshes to buy?
Around the world, dooshbags are dousing themselves in body spray and mousse. Thankfully, these products are flammable, leaving open the chance for eventual divine intervention to bring the world back into balance.
Monday, April 21, 2008
“Ria, you live in Florida, how are you going to hook me up with anyone?” Well Lo, I talked to my friend and his childhood friend, he’s 28 and is going to grad school at the University of Rochester to get his masters in Psychology. He doesn’t know a lot of people in town. I trust his judgment, I’m giving him your number.
A few days later I get a voice mail. Heavy Long Island accent stating that his friend knows my sister and gave him my number and that he’d love to get together sometime. So I called back and we agreed to meet Friday night at a local bar for dinner and drinks. I arrive and he’s not that attractive, but I’m Suzie Sunshine the eternal optimist, remember?, so who cares right? So the waiter comes by and gives us a menu…singular…menu, because they were short that evening because it was so busy. Apparently Mr. Long Island read this as he was to order for the two of us. (Picture the most obnoxious Long Island accent in the world)…so, uh, lets get some appetizers and some beer. We’ll have the, uh, potato skins and the mozzarella sticks. Done and done, waiter was gone. Could you not have ordered some crapper faire? Gross! I want a meal dammit!
But being Suzie Sunshine who shits rainbows and lollipops, I was going to be nice. “So my sister tells me you go to U of R to get your Masters in Psych”. Well, uh, not exactly. I, uh, go to SUNY Geneseo, I’m a freshman in psychology, but I’m thinking of switchin’ my major”. Ok, so my sister is off a bit, I’m not on a date with a grad student at a great school, I’m on a date with a balding loser from Long Island who can’t get through a sentence without saying “uh” and is a college freshman. “Oh, ok, how do you like Rochester?” (Again picture the MOST obnoxious Long Island accent) Well the people are, uh, nice. But I gotta tell you, I don’t like your accents. CAN YOU HEAR YOURSELF TALK MAN!
Throughout the evening I learned some interesting facts about Mr. Long Island. Not only is he a 28 year old college freshman, but he is unemployed stating that he was uh, planning to get a job this summer, but never, uh, got around to it.. Eventually he states that he knows this great bar we should go to, he knows of some festivities that evening. I’m buzzing off about 4 beers at this point and tell him ok, but it’s getting dark and I can’t drive at night due to my night blindness. He agrees to follow me to my house and pick me up. Of course I parked in the street so he wouldn’t know which house was mine and we were on our way to O’Callahans Pub. Upon arrival I tell him that I was going to use the restroom. Upon return there are two, count them, 2 pitchers of beer on our table. Ok, this guys a rockstar! So I sit and he keeps pouring me drinks, I know full well I could take this guy with my hands tied behind my back, plus all the other bar patrons kept looking at me like “why are you with this clown?”, so they had my back too.
So this unemployed 28 year old college freshman keeps drinking. I’m trying to be nice. “So it must be tough for you to be in a city where you don’t know anyone. And since you haven’t worked all summer (he didn’t even notice the malice undertone) how do you keep busy?” To be perfectly honest wit ya, I basically sit home all day and drink my fucking face off! And what sucks about the Rochester bars is that they close at 2 a.m., so I just go home grab a bottle of Jack Daniels and wander around the streets of downtown Rochester, “…Well, I understand that it’s tough being alone in a new town, and although you’re an unemployed 28 year old college freshman, who sits around and “drinks his fucking face off” and are still ready for an exciting evening on the town, I HAVE a job, I’ve got two mozzarella sticks in me and I worked all week, so I’m tired and I think it’s time to go home”. Uh, alright, I’ll drive you. I’m seriously contemplating just walking home at this point, but since the police have knocked on my door every weekend for the last month to see if I witnessed the armed robbery directly in front of my apartment, I decide it’s in my best interest to get a ride.
So, uh, is this your house?. “Yea, thanks for the ride and the “lovely” evening”. I’m about to jump from his moving vehicle. Oh, uh, I forgot to mention…my license is suspended. Did this guy take Dating for Losers 101? “So you mean to tell me that you’re a 28 year old, college freshman with a suspended license who’s hobby it is to “sit around all day and drink your fucking face off?”. I’m tallying every awful thing about this guy in my head and dying to tear a new one on my sister for this set up. Uh, Basically, yea, that’s my story. Good thing I wasn’t packing.
We get to my house and I just want to crawl in there and hide. Then I hear: Can I use your, uh, bathroom? “Is that absolutely necessary?” I, uh, really gotta go. “ I know, I watched you drink 3 pitchers of beer in as many hours, no freaking wonder you have to pee, you have 5 minutes”. I stay out on my patio because I don’t want to be in the same room as him. 5 minutes pass, 10, 20…Holy Crap, this guy is either passed out, riffling through my stuff, or dropping a fucking deuce in my bathroom!! I pull out my pocketknife and enter my apartment. As I’m opening the door I see him, he’s on his way out with a beer in one hand and a glass of wine in the other. I uh, thought you might want a nightcap. “You just helped yourself to my refrigerator? Look, I’m tired, you need to go home!” But Laura (again can I stress how obnoxious his accent is, you cannot fully appreciate this story without incorporating the accent) we’re having such a wonderful time! Can I get a kiss goodbye? Were we on the same date?? “Will that make you go away?” I give him a kiss on the cheek and he grabs my crotch!! “Look asshole, I don’t know what kind of drunken dating baseball you play, but get the fuck out!”
Two days later I get a phone message: Laura, uh, I had a mah-gi-cal, uh, evening. I’d love to see you again. Obviously I ignore after reaming my sister out for the entire situation. Exactly one week later: Laura, uh, I left you a message about a week ago, you must not have gotten it, I’d love to see you again. Where do these people come from? Apparently Long Island.