Dudes who Look at 8-Month Pregnant Women on the Bus and don't Let them Have their Seat are Living Life on their Own Terms

"Ummmm, do you think you could maybe move your giant stomach away from me so I can fully open my newspaper? You see, standing there because you have no seat, is causing your baby-filled gut to encroach upon my newspaper reading space, which really sucks for me because then I can't extend my arms fully, and then the paper kind of kinks in the middle, and it just isn't as enjoyable to read that way. So if you could try and press into the crowd on either side of you, or at minimum turn around so that your stomach isn't right in front of me, that would be great. Thing is I was out kind of late last night, and I like to read the paper on the bus when that happens, takes my mind off my discomfort. And you're sort of, well not really sort of but more like completely ruining that for me. So if you would be so kind as to take your pregnant ass and move it away from me I would really appreciate that. I mean its okay if you are pregnant, but it is a bit rude that you stand here on the bus carrying two separate bags and just get in my way while I'm sitting down and trying to read the synopsis in the Red Eye of Bristol Palin's baby-daddy problems. And while we're at it, why do you keep looking at me with that sad assed face? Just smile. And quit sweating. That is pretty gross too. If everything sucks this bad, maybe you should have just used a condom, you know? How about this: Just move over and stand in front of this elderly lady sitting next to me. She isn't reading anything. Although I wish she'd just stand up altogether, because I can't stretch my arms out sideways either."

"Out For Justice" was on AMC Tonight, and I Realized that I had Totally Forgotten how FUCKING AWESOME Steven Seagal Is!

Listen the fuck up Richie Modano: You think you're gonna whack Bobby Lupo at a produce stand in the middle of Bed Sty and NOT get Gino right up your fat, mustachioed ass? Think again bitch. Gino is coming for you and your whole pack of Guido assholes, and he's comin in HOT. He doesn't give a fuck what the NYPD think, he doesn't give a fuck what the mafia thinks, and he sure as goddamn shit doesn't care what your pussy-assed sentimental dad tried to plead on your behalf. So you snort that coke and you snort that coke well Richie, because your days without badly broken bones at incredibly unlikely angles are numbered, dick.

Seriously, just tell me an intersection in the history of Fuck Yeah where a badder mutherfucker than Steven Seagal hangs out. Just a tank-topped, muscle toneless, ponytailed, fringe martial artist, unidentifiable ethnic heritage ball of pure testosteroned badassery. If you watch Out For Justice and the scene comes on where he is driving around Brooklyn trying to smoke Richie out while "No Sleep 'Til Brooklyn" by the Beasties comes on, and you do NOT have a raging hard-on....well it is time to have The Talk with your doctor about Viagra my friend, because your dick is BROKE.

Fuckin-A, there is just no way I'm falling asleep tonight. I'm going to put on a beret and walk around punching 2x4's until sun-up.

The Chicago Transit Authority has Me by the Balls

I am bent over in the basement of a pawn shop, pants around my ankles, hands cuffed behind my back, rubber ball shoved in my mouth, with the President of the CTA pounding away from behind while the CTA Vice President sweats and says "Yeah, fuck him". Only in my case, Bruce Willis is not creeping down the stairs with a samurai sword anytime soon. CTA makes the US Postal Service look deadly efficient. There is positively nothing you can do to avoid being fucked. Tardiness. Overcrowding. Broken heating/cooling. Heater running full blast on a 93 degree August day. Rampant obesity. No bus or train for 40 minutes, then 3 in a row. Dudes rubbing ragers into the backs of unsuspecting chicks. Its a complete and total clusterfuck. Every day I take CTA it looks like 8 monkeys trying to fuck a football. But what are you going to do, drive and pay $400 per month just for the parking? So thank you sir, may I have another?

HOLY SHIT! My "How Can I Meaningfully Support Our Troops" Conundrum Has Been Solved!!!

All this time the answer was right in front of my fucking nose and I didn't even see it: Put a yellow ribbon sticker on the back of my SUV!!! It was that goddamned easy. Who cares if the troops are in harm's way in order to steal the very oil that my gas-guzzling SUV so desperately needs. Slapping the yellow ribbon on the back totally negates all harm and in fact supports those troops. If you put 2+ stickers on the back, well you have basically flown to Iraq, grabbed a gun and single-handedly obliterated a swarm of "insurgents" that had one of our platoons caught in a hopeless crossfire. This can't be any easier: Yellow Ribbon Sticker + Your Car = Happy, Smiling, Living Troops. The proof is right on the sticker: "Support our Troops". I can't even believe all of the meaningless, valueless strategies I've employed recently to support the troops, all a complete and utter waste. First of all I only voted for candidates I thought were going to actually remove the troops from harm's way (I know, joke's on me. But the theory seemed to make sense.). I'm such a dumbfuck. Secondly, I make an effort to only drive my car when completely necessary-such as occasions when I have to retrieve large quantities of groceries-in order to limit the amount of gas I consume. Just a class 1AA dipshit. My teeth hurt when I think of how much time I've wasted on that useless bullshit. I could have been 1 million times more effective by simply going to my local WalMart, buying 2 yellow ribbon stickers, sticking those sons of bitches prominently to the back of my SUV, and driving like a complete fucking asshole. Once you've got the yellow ribbons on the back of your car, you have to drive everywhere. If you continue to walk or ride your bike, then no one will know that you are supporting the troops, thus nullifying the vital ribbon support. So keep filling that pig up with gas and drive everywhere so you can maximize your support of the troops. If you leave the car with the yellow ribbon stickers parked at home, then you don't use the very gas which keeps the troops at war, and you don't support shit. In fact, if you aren't going to drive the car with the ribbon support, then you may as well catch a flight to Baghdad and stuff C-4 and rusty nails up the ass of dead dogs and detonate them as troop convoys pass, because that is exactly what you are doing by not flaunting your yellow ribbons. So in summary the only real patriots out there are those that vote for war-mongers, drive everywhere, and have yellow ribbon stickers on the back of their cars. They are voting for the continuance of war with their dollars and at the ballot, all the while supporting the shit out of the troops. The rest of you can change your fucking name to Mohammad and go blow up a school bus full of attractive children.

I just can't believe how duped I was. Why waste so much time and money on sending fresh socks, food stuffs, letters of encouragement, porn mags, alcohol, or tobacco to the troops? Why vote for douchebags committed to ending conflict? Just buy a goddamned ribbon already, would ya. Oh, and pray. Praying produces huge results as well.

Morbidly Obese People on Public Transit Fucking Rock

Especially when the hot humid air of summer arrives. I love the feeling of warm, moist sow-flesh encroaching on me while I read and try to pretend you don't fucking stink. Although reading can be difficult when the land manatee next to you sounds like Darth Vader with faulty helmet wiring. How is it that we both paid the same fee to board this bus/train? I weigh something in the normal range. You have to be weighed on the side of a highway, just after a Kenworth and just prior to a Peterbilt. I take up only the standard-issue seat width. You take up 1.5 seats, sometimes two, and also part of the aisle. I sit or stand silently reading or daydreaming that I am Wolverine or maybe Peter North, always breathing normally. You sweat profusely from your harrowing static-stand at the bus/train stop, sound like a NYC Fireman who has just completed his 4th trip into the World Trade Center carrying people down stairs, while shooting menacing glares at anyone who might request that you shift your girth to facilitate exiting. Seems fair that we pay equally.

While you try and catch your breath from that 1-rep 9-inch step-up from the curb to bus, I have a few questions. Just friendly, non-intrusive questions:

1. What do your genitals look like? Do you have any idea? Have you seen them in the past decade?

2. What sort of equipment is required to wipe your ass? That can't be easy, right? Do you just deal with it in the shower?

3. Since the only redeeming quality of morbid obesity is to be really, really funny, and you clearly have no sense of humor, how do you compensate socially (I mean besides snacky cakes and soda)?

4. Do you have to apply deodorant/antiperspirant to non-armpit areas such as under your side tits, back fat, over-knee hang, between FUPA and actual Pussy Area?

5. Do you secretly wish for a super virus that would freeze and shatter all mirrors globally?

6. You are able to wake up, get dressed, get on this bus/train, and arrive at work on time each day, presumably on time. So why can't you put the cheeseburger down? It requires much less discipline.

7. Do you wish you could buy cool clothes?

I'm proposing a fat tax. Where do I propose this? How do you propose something? Can I nail it to the door of the largest cathedral in my area, like Martin Luther? Is that how you do it? If you would rather have your foot sawed off than quit eating Burger King, then you should foot (double entendre, anyone?) the bill for the entire operation.

My Favorite Time to Field Difficult Questions at Work is when I First Walk in, Before Sitting Down or Even Turning my Computer Monitors on

I leave the elevator and walk briskly to my desk every morning, carrying hot liquid and my personal effects, hoping beyond hope that someone will start firing away questions about a dicey issue before I have a chance to even sit down. It literally makes my fucking day.

"What should we be telling clients in regards to the overnight system error we experienced? Is there a resolution yet?"

"Hmmmm, based on the door man at our building asking me 2 minutes ago how I'm swinging my clubs this summer, even though this is 27th time I've told him I don't golf and positively despise the game, I'm going to say that I don't have a single solitary fucking clue what system error you're speaking of, and I sure as fucking shit don't have any idea when the glitch I was completely unaware of will be fixed. I do have a couple of very abstract ideas for people you could ask. Now try and keep an open mind because this is going to require a non-linear, exploratory mind-set to think through this:

1. Any number of people who arrived today prior to me. There are plenty of them. You know that, because you are one of them. They have been addressing the same issues as you. It has been this way for some time, possibly years.

2. Our European office. They've been here for 5 hours prior to your arrival, minimum. They've primarily been addressing this issue because it began on their watch. They've been there since the inception of the organization. You're fully aware of this.

3. Our manager. I know this is a stretch, but since this person is in charge of managing these problems, maybe that person is a good resource.

4. The Polish lady that works for building services. At least she was here cleaning overnight, which makes her more current on the situation than I am."

But please, hover over my desk while I set the coffee down. Then my bag. Then stare impatiently while I turn on my monitors and go through the process of logging into all the systems. Look increasingly more nervous about the person you've got on hold as I research the same memos and notices you were sent. I thrive on this shit so you're actually doing me a favor.

My Air Conditioning Might be Broken, but Thankfully the Weather isn't Warm

Oh wait, its 90 fucking degrees every day. My dog, with his extraordinarily thick and curly coat, seems to be enjoying it. He looks like one of those African children you see on the commercials lying around listlessly. I'm constantly shooing flies from his eyeballs. If PETA happens by here this week, we're fucking hating it.

If the air conditioning doesn't work for a couple of weeks or a month, we'll just die, right? Air conditioning has been around since before humans, so to go a while without it spells certain death I assume. This is the leading hypothesis for the Lost Colony of Roanoke in the late 1580's: Their air conditioning broke down, and they died. If you see a news report about a couple in Chicago and their goldendoodle found dead of heatstroke, bodies already swelling from rapid decomposition in the extreme, air conditioning-less temperatures, pour a little of your 40oz on the curb for us, will you?

*UPDATE*: Maintenance guy on the roof right now checking it, talking shit about "We can't do the electrical checks on this unit on the roof due to the pouring down rain and lightnight right now". What the fuck is your death compared to my marginal comfort? This is the bullshit of all bullshits.