If you aren’t an alarmist FoxNews viewer, you’re probably not familiar with the term “sexting.” Clearly, I am. Sexting is the awful play on words that describes when one individual, by their own choosing, takes a naked picture of themself and sends it to someone else via SMS (Short Message Service). The solution to this scourge? Giving the sweet naked pics to this guy. What kills me about the following quote is the use of the sentence structure to create a scene which resembles that of a real job and attorney should be doing, like reviewing photos of the scene of a murder, rape, minor traffic violation, etc.:

Photos of their semi-nude or scantily clad teenage daughters were stacked before him. Mr. Skumanick said the images had been discovered on cellphones confiscated at the local high school.

I can’t believe this is really an issue parents (or anyone) is shocked by. It’s 2009 – could you dolts really be so naive to think your kids aren’t using every piece of technology almost exclusively for personal sexual gratification?

The first text ever.

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There is a ton of evidence finally being associated with me and it’s high time we acknowledge it. I’m finally being accepted as a straight twenty-something guy. In the four years since I’ve left High School, I have  let H&M, my fragile bones and my love for colors allow me to appear like a homosexual. While, I don’t have anything against gay men, I think it’s important for people to realize I am not one.

Let’s take a look at my progression from “fashion forward” to “don’t touch me or I’ll have DJ knock your teeth out.”

Here’s the earliest picture of me on Facebook:

Look at this guy! Just in some typical lounge wear, you know straightened hair, a painted American Apparel track jacket, patched jeans. I’m not trying at all! What? You want to make out and listen to some indie British bands? Well OK!

See the rest of the fellas on the runaway after the jump…

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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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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 like to have a good time! If you can’t stomach that fact, then it’s high time you got on out of here, because that, my friend, is an unquestionable truth. I like to have a good time. DJ likes to have a good time. Peter Paul Marsh III (American Hero) loves to have a good time. Of course, Chachi likes having a good time. Frank can have a good time. Even Patty, that old, puritanical, straight-laced lesbo, likes to have a good time sometimes. Everyone here at SmartassRadio likes to have a good time. Essentially, having a good time is what we’re all about.

When you’re having a good time you don’t want to be making decisions. And if you do need to make a decision, you want to make it fast. Still, sometimes making a decision can be difficult. Especially, when that decision involves the good time you are about to have.

Imagine the scenario: You’re standing in your kitchen getting ready to party. You are just on the brink of it, and you can smell the good times ahead. Then two of your best buddies walk in. One says: “Yo man, you ready to go bananas?” and the next says, “Hey bro, you want to go hog wild?”  What are you going to choose?

Filbert doesn’t do either.

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Roy and I get a few magazines delivered to our house that neither of us has a subscription for: Us Weekly, OK! Weekly, Vibe, Entrepreneur and the occasional J&R Cigar catalog. We’ve been living in our current place for almost two months and I had thought I’d seen it all. I was so fucking wrong. Last week I opened the mailbox to discover the following visual travesty:

I don’t know if it’s more shocking that we will now receive this magazine for god knows how
long or that someone who once lived in our relatively shitty apartment had a job AND kids.

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