There is a ton of evidence stacking up against me and it’s high time I acknowledge it. I’m becoming a piece of white trash human garbage. In the four years since I’ve left High School, I have absolutely let the semi-freedom of college destroy me as a person. While, I’m very comfortable with the latest incarnation of me, I think it’s important to look back at where I came from.

Here’s the earliest picture of me on Facebook:

Look at this sweet boy with his girlfriend enjoying a delicious lollipop after a day at the mall. Oh, look he has a Metallica cap on. You bought it where? Hot Topic? Precious.

I dare you to follow the jump and keep reading.

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I passed a bowling alley today and noticed that attached to the building was a very interesting looking store. It was called the “Pro Shop.” Now, I consider myself to be a pro in most aspects of life so, naturally, I walked inside to see what was the dealio (pro-talk for ‘situation’). Much to my chagrin (pro-talk for the sudden embarrassment upon realizing I am a bowling ball store ) I found that I was not in a pro store, I was in a bowling ball store. Whoever came up with the audacious idea to start calling bowling ball suppliers “pro” must have been a real marketing genius, but I think its high-time that this practice be ended.

There are only two pro things about this picture

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So Madonna is planning to adopt another kid from Malawi. Unbelievable! If anyone needs a little TLC it’s Uncle Chachi. I mean Christ, it’s not like these kids are dodging bullets or eating out of dumpsters on a daily basis. If I have my facts straight, their whole life is one huge game of intramural soccer. Anyway, if you’re reading this Madonna, here are the top ten reasons you should select to adopt me, the Baron Von Chachska, instead of another boring Malawi snoozefest:

1. The water in Africa is cleaner than the water in Philadelphia. While Simba erotically washes Nala in majestic jungle streams, I am forced shower in my neighbor’s fecal matter on a daily basis.
2. I’m a way bigger fan of yours than any Malawian child. I rocked “Dress You Up In My Love” so hard that I was voted junior prom queen in the seventh grade.
3. I smell worse than the entire nation of Malawi. I’m sure the African child of your choice doesn’t exactly carry the scent of freshly picked petunias, but I make the homeless smell like freshly squeezed lemon.
4. I only pick my nose sometimes.
5. I appreciate the “Ray of Light” music video in ways they will never understand.
6. My breakfast talents cannot be matched. Go ahead and choose another African kid. Hope you fancy burnt eggs with a side steel toast. Bon Appetite!
7. I don’t eat bugs
8. I’m vaccinated. Wouldn’t want the princess of pop catching polio would we?
9. I hear there’s a promo poster for Lock Stock & Two Smoking Barrels hanging in the Malawi embassy. Fuck Guy Ritchie!
10. I do a great Jack Nicholson impersonation. Oh and I’m sure your Malawi wonder boy does a kiler Brando…

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I thought Kim Kardashian was just a gorgeous, mindless, single slut- but I was totally wrong: she is not single. Apparently, she has been dating Reggie Bush, who was also, apparently, carved from ivory ebony. For the past few years I thought Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie were the best looking couple possible. WRONG. Take a look at these two people who are of solely physical worth:

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I was reading some Bill Faulkner today and was thinking about how terrible it would be to be someone else’s slave. I already have trouble doing things for myself. If my job was to fulfill the demands of someone else as well, I would have to file for unemployment. Except, too bad, I can’t because I’m a slave.

Now the idea that being a slave is not the best has been said again and again. It’s an idea that has been pounded into the social-consciousness since, I would say, at least 1989. As I continued to read this Faulkner novel (I should note that the people in Faulkner’s book were servants, not slaves, but I would still not be jumping at the opportunity to be a servant), I tried to think of things that could make being a slave even worse. Why I decided to think this, I don’t know. Maybe it’s because I saw Saw IV last night and my mind has just been turning everything more tortuous. I came up with a couple options. One: you get impregnated by someone who is not a slave, but is a total dick, preferably the town sheriff. That would make matters much worse, but I can’t get pregnant, at least not with the technology available in slave-times. (Side-note: A really terrible themed restaurant would be one that follows the basic format of Medieval Times but is called Slave Times). Two: If I were a slave, but I also had a very developed case of alcoholism.

Someone is dying for a Margarita.

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Beyond basic knowledge about your operating system, web browser and location (yea… where you live within a pretty reasonable distance), I don’t know too much about you guys – our readers. What I can surmise though, is there are about 100 people reading every day. I think it’s safe to assume some of you are the same people, which means posts like this, this and this really don’t bother you. If you do take offense to posts like that, read no further. – DJ

So, yesterday I slammed the Wall Street Journal’s dumb website for not poviding me with any good news. Then I actually went there. This is what I got. Now, I’ve made my views on organized religion pretty public – really I hate all religion, but those which are “organized” give me a very big, fat, bloated target to take aim at. Now, Pope Benedict has put his foot so far into his Nazi mouth, he’s likely to shit shoe leather later today.

Good golly, I sure wish I could take credit for this one.

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I haven’t been to the gym in months, its awful. I can slip my entire arm through most keyholes and I break a sweat when I accelerate my car. When school is in session DJ and I try to stick with a fairly regimented work out schedule, pumping iron a minimum of three days a week. Unfortunately, we kind of slipped off our schedule…back in November. I have since found a supplemental exercise program, but in many ways its falls short. That program is Wii Fit. It is easy to use, I like the look of my Mii character and I can finally wear what I want (spandex) to the gym. I’ve been able to push aside the program’s shortcomings (ie: lack of results),until now. I’ve recently come to suspect my Wii Fit instructor is a gay.

Leslie, my instructor.

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