Friday, June 29, 2012

Thin Ice

Posted by Booze Fighter
Here's a winner for the shittest game award.  Gee Guys, lets corner the market for board games by creating...  I got it! Falling through thin ice is hilarious and fun. Lets make a game about freezing to death.

Marbles kind of look like people... and hell, fuck trees... those are disposable so paper could be the ice. Thats it, perfection at its finest.

Four months later...  

What the fuck who keeps on using up all the toilet paper?! I work all damn day choppin' killer evergreens down to supply the world with paper ice for the best game ever.

Maybe the Angry Pooping Man should have realized a few things:
1. The game sucks
2. Wipe your ass with the game and the game's inventors

Monday, April 4, 2011

Silly Rabbit...Fruity Pebbles Are Better!

Posted by Fly Boy

The Silly Rabbit comes home from a long day of chasing Trix to no prevail. He notices a message on his answering machine and presses play:

“Hey, depressing little jack rabbit, it’s your buddy, Barney Rubble. I'm sure you're home right now holding an empty cereal bowl and wacking off to bunny porn, because you’re fucking pathetic. HAHA…just fucking with you dude, but seriously I stole another box of Fred’s delicious fruity rocks and I wanted to throw a party tonight. Don’t call me back to say you’re busy, because I know you’re not. Party starts at nine. Be there.”

Rabbit arrives at the Rubble’s residence around 10 pm. He opens the door and is instantly exposed to an array of rainbow-colored strobe lights and an eargasm of heavy metal music. He looks to his left; Barney is in the corner with his eyes closed, wailing on an air guitar. In the center of the room, Betty dances erotically on the coffee table while Tony the Tiger watches with glazed eyes from the comfort of the couch. The Rabbit looks to his right to see Toucan Sam blowing lines of crushed Fruity Pebbles from a marble cutting board. Toucan greets the rabbit, "Come in man...follow your fuckin’ nose to these delicious Fruity Pebbles." The Rabbit timidly walks to the bar in which Toucan is perched. Sam hands him a spoonful of fruity goodness. The Rabbit takes a bite. The sugary sensation instantly attacks his blood stream; Rabbit has never felt such a rush. He turns back to the center of the room. Betty and Tony are now making out on the coffee table. Barney, oblivious to his surroundings, is now on his knees violently wailing on his air guitar. Heavy guitar riffs echo through the room. Rabbit turns back to Toucan, feeling the full effects of the Fruity Pebbles, he watches the strobe lights bounce off of the already colorful beak. For the first time in Rabbit's life he feels complete. He smiles. The bird smiles back and nods in mutual agreement. Toucan Sam speaks over the deafening music, "Fruity Pebbles mannn...Fruity...Fuckin’...Pebbles."

The rabbit wakes the next morning in his bathtub; chest deep in soggy fruity pebbles and pink milk. A dead goat lay by the toilet. Shattered glass from the mirror above the sink lay scattered on the floor. A portable CD player teeters on the edge of the tub with U2’s “Numb” set on repeat. The rabbit looks around, mentally absorbing the scene. He begins to laugh uncontrollably.

Although Rabbit spent the rest of the day with a twitching eye, irritable bowels and sensitive nipples, his experience taught him two valuable lessons; 1. Fruity Pebbles are way better than Trix and 2. Trix ARE for kids…kids that don’t know how to party.

Thursday, December 16, 2010

Doctor Dreadful Food Lab

Posted By Booze Fighter

"Ooooh Billy, do you want a freshly baked cup cake?

Is Schwarzenegger hard to spell? Bitch give me that cup cake. Yum. So where did you get these, from your lame momma?

"No I made them with my Easy Bake Oven...oven..oven...oven...oven..."

I remember that stun; that abysmal fuzziness after you take a digger on your huffy. This shock was due to the fact that little girls everywhere could get instant, homemade taste-bud gratification with their Easy Bake Ovens and all I had was a bowl of Kix and freeze dried milk.

Panic set in for all boys. They were alone in the world of munchies, their sisters would get an Easy Bake Oven for Christmas, so they could hoax them into making them a personal Confetti Cake.

Delirious from hunger pains, one of your slow-minded chums approaches you with a plate of Creepy Crawlers. SMACK...Dumpy, you buffoon, Creepy Crawlers are only for people with Pica. Gah...imbecile. Are boys forever damned in this cruel cruel world? Is there no one that will help us?

A strange and diabolical laughter comes from the bowels of Geoffrey the Giraffe. Like the Pied Piper, the hungry youth flocked to Toys R' Us, where explosions and chaos were errupting from aisle 8.

"Muhahahahahaha...TASTE, need more TASTE!!!" This Dr. Wily look-a-like mother fucker is going nuts; adding potions that smell just as good as a pepperoni pizza to something that already looks just as good. Who is this wild scientist? Why does he create so much taste?

The answer: Dr. Dreadful, and no his name does not speak for his creations. If that were the case he would be the original Dr. Feelgood. This Spin Doctor 360's the world that Easy Bake Oven had created. With a Doctor Dreadful Food Lab one can create anything from Gummy Guts to your very own Zombie Blood Soda Pop. Unfortunatly Dr. Dreadful was nabbed by the men in white coats and was never to be seen again.

I found out that Dr. Dreadful is being let out of Bell View to be re-released into the world, hell-bound on creating TASTE. If this is news to you, or you just don't care, you should go choke on some Creepy Crawlers or forever be subdued by your sister and her Easy Bake Oven.

Thursday, November 18, 2010

Greeting Cards

Posted By Hi Five
Few things in this world are as downright soulless as greeting cards. Greeting cards piss me off more than Tyra Banks' face. Why, as a society, do we feel the need to give a card on every occasion, no matter how meaningless it may be? I can kind of understand birthday cards for little kids. They open the card, it has a picture of some stupid clown with his hair on fire and it says something dumb like "Hope you have a torchingly funny brithday!" The kid gets a twenty dollar bill, and everyone wins. Well guess what? No one wins when you feel like you have to buy people holiday cards, sympathy cards, sorry your dog is dead cards, get well soon from your cancer cards and all those other stupid times of the year in which people deem card worthy. God forbid I don't show up to my nephews baptism with a "Try holy water death breath!!!" card. God might not let me into heaven. I'm sure the kid would approach me 20 years later and be like "Hey Uncle Hi Five, why didnt you give me a card for my baptism? That really hurt my feelings." And if the little douche did say that I would have to punch his brain out of his head and baptize him with his own blood.

Aside from the fact that cards even exist, that alone is enough to make my blood boil, I can't stand how idiotic most of them are. I can't count the number of times I've gone looking for a card and the words "dumb", "retarted", "what the fuck", "who is the fucking moron who wrote this?", "I feel like killing someone because I just read that" comes out of my mouth. I am through with looking at cards that have a dog chasing its tail on the cover and on the inside it says something like "Its your birthday! Don't run around in circles, relax!" HAHAHAHA. Fuck you. You'll be running around in circles when I'm chasing you with Malachai's machete because you wrote that card, idiot.

I guess it just comes down to convenience and laziness. No one wants to put thought into things, which is why cards exist. Yet, the irony of it all, is if you dont get someone a card for one of these typical occasions, you're looked at as someone who is thoughtless. And these holier than thou, stick-up-their-ass douchebags look down their noses at you. "Hmmm, did you see that rebellious youth not give a card, for shame." No, sorry Dr. Society, i didnt think your little bastard sons first birthday was worth my time and money. Next time any "card occasion" comes up, I'm just going to make my own. On the cover it will say "This is the last card you will ever get from me in this lifetime," and on the inside there will be a picture of Chris Benoit dragging his thumb across his throat with the words "Fuck you" below it. I'll be done handing these things out in no time.

Wednesday, November 3, 2010

Candy Crap Corn

Posted By Fly Boy

Costume parties, horror-movie marathons, haunted houses, daddy's beatings; these are all components of the greatest holiday known to man, Halloween. There is one item, synonymous to Halloween, that plagues the holiday vibe more than the greedy little douchebag that takes all the candy when the sign clearly states "Please take one." That item is none other than the infamous Candy Corn.

Everything about this corn syrup and sugar combination screams DISAPPOINTING, from its unrepresentative name to its displeasing array of colors. Candy Corn is the treat kidnapping rapists give their captives for being "a good girl." Its the candy your grandmother gives you every year, because she's had an industrial size bag since 1987. Its the corn that every mythical creature would find in their stool if they were to exist. Candy Corn is what you eat if you hate yourself.

I read somewhere that one company in Texas produces enough Candy Corn each year to circle the earth 4.25 times if the kernels were laid end to end. What?...Why?...What population are they tending too? I am currently purchasing a plane ticket to Dallas to burn this factory to the ground. I will then bask in the fumes of charred sugar and corn syrup while I make ash angels in its remains. Meanwhile, everyone else should do their part and stop purchasing Candy Corn. If you are a fan of Candy Corn, and are amongst the population questioned above, then I graciously ask of you two favors...1. cut yourself and 2. get your fix during another Holiday, like Kwanzaa. Halloween doesn't need Candy Corn in its arsenal of awesomeness.

Wednesday, October 27, 2010

Die, Green Ranger, Die!

Posted By Bas Rutten

The year was 1994 and all was well for little eight-year old Jason as his alarm clock woke him up on a sunny, autumn morning at 7:25. By the time he got dressed and went downstairs his favorite TV show on. That show was Mighty Morphin Power Rangers; with the Red Ranger, Jason, of course being his favorite. Jason was the leader of the pack; he took no shit. You all know he was Porkin’ Pink Kim and Drirrin’ Yerrow Trini as he told Zack to make him a ham sandwich and Billy to play chess with his hipster friends.

The red ranger's popularity rubbed off on little Jason as he strolled into school with his red ranger lunchbox and backpack. He was the cool kid. He was looked up to by his peers. All the girls were gossiping about his weenus. Jason was living life. He was on top of the world…

Then, out of nowhere, his life turned into a living hell as the Green Ranger, Tommy, came on board and ripped the heart out of all the Jason’s of the world, especially Mr. Weenus himself. This no good chump went face-to-face in a martial arts battle with Jason and matched up to him; forcing the Yellow (irony) Ranger to recruit him. This mother fucker even had the dragon shield. This sheild could heal and deflect attacks, which was much cooler than a red, spandex-wearing fairy jumping around. Because of this, Jason was no longer the man. All the Jason’s took a step back, while all the Tommy’s of the world were now cool; hell, even the retard Tommy Blankenship from special-ed got a handy on the 3rd grade short bus…a legend still to this day.

All the Jason’s in the world will never forgive the Green Ranger for ruining their collective parade of hope and glory. It has affected me, Mr. Weenus, to the point where I wear my red ranger outfit every morning at 7:25, thinking of the times where I was a somebody. Yes...those were the days.

Sunday, October 24, 2010

Revenge of Milky

Posted By Booze Fighter

Joe and Bob Rosselle teamed up in 1982 to distrubute tasty cold treats to all of the hot and hazy Bostonians, but their ice cream handouts were just a cover. Inside the womb of their first Thermo King, tossed and churned an Ice Demon...Milky.

I believe, Milky was supposed to resemble a happy, everyday milk man, but instead, Milky looked more like a cream slinger from hell. His robotic appearence meant one thing...death to all.

It's 102 degrees outside. Your shoes are melting to the sidewalk. Wait, whats that blurry figure in the distence walking this way ever so chipper? You pause with confusion. You hear the jingles of an ice cream truck. By now your shoes have become one with the asphalt.

"Shit, I think the heats getting to me lil' sis. All i can hear, besides our flesh cooking, is the taunts of an ice cream truck nearby, and all i can see is...oh shit! ohhh SHIT. Samantha, untie your shoes and jump to the grass if you can. That figure moseying this way is MILKY!

Both children frantically try to untie their shoes but the heat and the music Milky is dispensing from his ears are putting both of them into a trance; like a cobra's dance to a mouse before it is ingested.

Gotta snap out of it, gotta run. Milky is now picking up his pace from a lacksadaisical step to a moderate stride, holding a two-ball screwball in one hand and a bloody ice pick in the other.

FUCK he's creepy. Milky's facial expression doesn't change but you can tell he's on the hunt, for his music switches from "You are My Sunshine" to Pantera's "Walk." God, why does it have to end this way?

Well, it wouldn't have ended that way Jimbo if RoseV Dairy had picked a better Logo. Maybe then it wouldn't have come to life and eaten your brains like a Choco Taco. Now Milky is raising the cold, creamy dead for his unholy army. The Hulkster, the Bozo Cup, the Widget Pop and yes even Tweety are now Ice Cream Zombies ready to embark frost bite all over the Greater Boston Area.