How You Met:
You're not quite sure, because it didn't really make that much of an impact. But, you think the first time you met Brian was through your group of guy friends from the ninth grade. You were never really formally introduced, he was just always there. In fact, it kind of always seemed like he was just an extra body to have around the lunch table. We wish we could elaborate more here, but we just can't. It was that unremarkable.
Your Relationship Now:
Since ninth grade, Brian has laughed at approximately five of your jokes, given you a couple beers, and managed to wear the same Randy River button-up with skulls and flames waaaaaaaaay too often. So why are you still interested in maintaining a friendship? Because wet-blanket Brian has gotten more pooty-tang than Charlie Sheen. Speaking of Charlie Sheen, he may have something in common with Brian. Both are unattractive, with very mediocre personalities, but still manage to get their dicks wet on a regular basis without resorting to bribery, blackmail, or Chatroulette.
A list of Brian's Most Impressive Conquests are as follows:
1. Inga, the hot, tanned, blonde Swedish exchange student who spoke VERY little English, but seemed to be quite familiar with the male anatomy. So familiar that she would stammer about Brian's "pienus" and "bullsack" all through lunch hour, in turn, making him look like "the man" in front of all his friends.
2. Mrs. Boydan, the newly divorced 11th grade English teacher who had legs for miles and tits like cantaloupes, and was in desperate need of validation of her womanhood and sex appeal. Wet blanket Brian provided that...over and over and over again. At her place after school.
3. Stacey, the black swan who went away to visit her grandmother one summer and came back looking like she'd had a surgical procedure that funneled the fat from her stomach and her thighs straight into her tits n' ass (every girl's dream procedure.) She lost the glasses, lost the braces, and grew out her hair. Every boy in school would have given their bigger testicle to de-virginize this minx. But wet blanket Brian swooped in like a hawk and struck again. Stacey was entangled in this wet blanket. They dated for a year, and even more shocking, is that the only reason they broke up was because she went to Milan to become a model, and she said SHE'D get too jealous being in a long distance relationship.
4. Bianca, the funny, smart, gorgeous perfect human being, who always seemed to have her shit together. She could get any guy - but instead, she got blanketed...by Brian.
You used think that it might have been because he had a big dick. Be it's not. Because you've seen it. And it's not big. It's more of a pencil than a pop can. It's more of a spaghetti than a cannelloni. It's more of a straw than a banana. It's more of a worm than a snake. It's more of a twig than a tree trunk. It's more of a disappointment than anything else.
So you often sit and wonder to yourself - how the fuck does this floppy sock of a man get with all these hot dime pieces, while you can't even convince a grenade grundle chode to accompany you to the fall fair? The answer? We still don't know. Endless studies and experiments have been conducted with no conclusive results. Our hypothesis - ?????????
How Do You Deal?
Just accept that there are some things in life that you will never understand. And wet blankets with hotties are one of them. We think that when you enter the pearly gates of heaven, the answer to this will be whispered in your ear. So suck it up - cuz your shit ain't gettin' tighta'.
And whatever you do, don't settle for the grenade, grundle, chode. Snooki said not to.
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear, C-Monster and Jah-Day
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Saturday, September 4, 2010
The Only Child Friend
How You Met:
First day of Kindergarten, you were minding your own business, when some booger-encrusted, tattle-tale came and stole your Malibu Barbie's Jeep. Shocked, you look at this princess bitch and asked her, "Why did you do that?" She replied, "Do what?" Had you been a twenty-three-year old menstruating young woman, this would have been the moment you realized that some parents use birth control, while some let a night of heavy tequila drinking followed by a handful of unprotected thrusts determine the rest of their life. But you were five, and all you thought was - I wanna tear this cunts nappy pigtails out of her skull, tie them around her neck, and then see how well she navigates the jeep.
After an intervention from the teacher, and a lesson about sharing (that went completely over Kylie's head), Kylie informed you of every single toy her over-protective parents had bought her: Baby-All-Gone, Baby-Born, Polly Pocket, Easy Bake Oven, Creepy Crawlers, Barbie's car, Barbie's life size car, and every single Beanie Baby that Ty could dream up. This seemed like a nice upgrade from the hand-me-downs you had been receiving your whole life: completely coloured colouring books, headless Tigger, Barbies with mohawks, one-legged Ken, your Dad's bio-hazard of a tool set, and large sheets of mostly popped bubble wrap. So you begged your distracted mother to let you go play with Kylie, while your brother was getting chased around the house for refusing to practice piano.
You loved Kylie's pool, her brand new puppy, her candy cupboard, and her en suite bathroom. However, you didn't love the endless supply of Sears portraits featuring Kylie in various sweaters and turtlenecks, gazing wistfully at her distant future (which hadn't been shattered by a crazy older sister. aka. Satan's Spawn). And you didn't love playing make-believe with her because you always had to play the dog, the mailman, the dad, the ugly troll, and the rug.
Your Relationship Now:
By some chance of God, your relationship survived through your tweens. But it always felt like she controlled the relationship. When you traded her an Oreo, she would give you a fingernail size portion of her Fruit Roll-Up. When you wrote History quizzes, she would copy and blame you if you got caught. When you went to the prom with Zack, the cute, but shy piece of ass from math class, she told you she was going to find out if he liked you. Instead, you caught her giving Zack his first hand job in the janitor's closet, which somewhat resembled a construction worker trying to drill through pavement. You almost cried, and so did Zack.
Now that you ARE a 23-year-old woman, she is still a fucking selfish, know-it-all, son of a penis gremlin, that is out to get hers. She doesn't give a rat's patoot about you or anyone else on this hell hole called earth. So what's stopping you from fucking over this stuck-up, merciless seagull's-ass? The fact that you feel sorry for her. Because, while you have a grip on reality, Kylie's only newspaper subscription is to the Kylie Times. Her biggest worry seems to be what race or game she can beat someone at. She's going to be very disappointed one day, when she wakes up and realizes she is an absolutely brutal human being and NO ONE is ever going to think she is as special as her fucking parents do. Not even her balding, pot-bellied husband, Lester.
How Do You Deal?
It's kind of like watching "A Walk To Remember." Painful, predictable, and a complete waste of your time. But what's better than watching this anal bead live a narcissistic, lonely life, which will later result in the biggest let down of the century? Probably watching it on HD in a lazy boy with popcorn.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
Their Parents
Themselves
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear and Jah-Day
First day of Kindergarten, you were minding your own business, when some booger-encrusted, tattle-tale came and stole your Malibu Barbie's Jeep. Shocked, you look at this princess bitch and asked her, "Why did you do that?" She replied, "Do what?" Had you been a twenty-three-year old menstruating young woman, this would have been the moment you realized that some parents use birth control, while some let a night of heavy tequila drinking followed by a handful of unprotected thrusts determine the rest of their life. But you were five, and all you thought was - I wanna tear this cunts nappy pigtails out of her skull, tie them around her neck, and then see how well she navigates the jeep.
After an intervention from the teacher, and a lesson about sharing (that went completely over Kylie's head), Kylie informed you of every single toy her over-protective parents had bought her: Baby-All-Gone, Baby-Born, Polly Pocket, Easy Bake Oven, Creepy Crawlers, Barbie's car, Barbie's life size car, and every single Beanie Baby that Ty could dream up. This seemed like a nice upgrade from the hand-me-downs you had been receiving your whole life: completely coloured colouring books, headless Tigger, Barbies with mohawks, one-legged Ken, your Dad's bio-hazard of a tool set, and large sheets of mostly popped bubble wrap. So you begged your distracted mother to let you go play with Kylie, while your brother was getting chased around the house for refusing to practice piano.
You loved Kylie's pool, her brand new puppy, her candy cupboard, and her en suite bathroom. However, you didn't love the endless supply of Sears portraits featuring Kylie in various sweaters and turtlenecks, gazing wistfully at her distant future (which hadn't been shattered by a crazy older sister. aka. Satan's Spawn). And you didn't love playing make-believe with her because you always had to play the dog, the mailman, the dad, the ugly troll, and the rug.
Your Relationship Now:
By some chance of God, your relationship survived through your tweens. But it always felt like she controlled the relationship. When you traded her an Oreo, she would give you a fingernail size portion of her Fruit Roll-Up. When you wrote History quizzes, she would copy and blame you if you got caught. When you went to the prom with Zack, the cute, but shy piece of ass from math class, she told you she was going to find out if he liked you. Instead, you caught her giving Zack his first hand job in the janitor's closet, which somewhat resembled a construction worker trying to drill through pavement. You almost cried, and so did Zack.
Now that you ARE a 23-year-old woman, she is still a fucking selfish, know-it-all, son of a penis gremlin, that is out to get hers. She doesn't give a rat's patoot about you or anyone else on this hell hole called earth. So what's stopping you from fucking over this stuck-up, merciless seagull's-ass? The fact that you feel sorry for her. Because, while you have a grip on reality, Kylie's only newspaper subscription is to the Kylie Times. Her biggest worry seems to be what race or game she can beat someone at. She's going to be very disappointed one day, when she wakes up and realizes she is an absolutely brutal human being and NO ONE is ever going to think she is as special as her fucking parents do. Not even her balding, pot-bellied husband, Lester.
How Do You Deal?
It's kind of like watching "A Walk To Remember." Painful, predictable, and a complete waste of your time. But what's better than watching this anal bead live a narcissistic, lonely life, which will later result in the biggest let down of the century? Probably watching it on HD in a lazy boy with popcorn.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
Their Parents
Themselves
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear and Jah-Day
Monday, August 23, 2010
The One-Up Friend
We have more than you do!
How You Met:
At a kegger in 1st year university, after doing a keg stand in a skirt, you were telling a story about your cat surviving an attack by a family of raccoons. Rachel loved your story! And followed it by a story about her cat driving her family to Florida in their SUV and using its tail to change the cruise control. She swears she's not lying.
Your group of friends loves her because she always has a good story and she is willing to do insane dares to entertain the masses. In the beginning, you too, were infatuated by her hootzpah and her high tolerance for jagger bombs. When you got to know her outside of the party scene though, you realized the only conversations you had were you talking and her trying to top it.
For example, when you tell her you just got an A on a paper and a hot guy asked you out on the subway, she immediately tops it with, her acceptance into med school and Taylor Lautner asking her on a date (we know he's only 16). When you say that you had a bad day because your computer crashed and your parents are getting a divorce, instead of comforting you, she tries to make you feel better by starting a sentence with "That sucks, but you should hear about my day."
Your Relationship Now:
Rachel would say it's the best friendship she's ever been in. You would say, you would rather vomit up old cream than hear another one-up "Rachel stylez." Sometimes it would be nice if she could just listen, and not jerk-off her continual boner full of stories right into your mouth and eyes. But you don't know how to tell her that her cum's only good when you didn't have to get her off with one of your own arousing stories in the first place.
How Do You Deal?:
Our usual approach is to just stop talking to that filthy, stealing vagina scab. But that's no fun. You gotta teach this bitch a lesson she'll never forget. You could try one, or all, of the following:
1. In the middle of her story, interrupt her with a disgusted face and say, "Oh my god! Did you just fart?" Then ask the people around her if they can smell that, and suggest that you move locations.
2. Catch her before she starts her one-up by saying, "Ya Rachel, it's kind of like that time you slept with that circus gremlin and got chlamydia. Did you ever get that cleared up by the way?" That will get rid of her story chubby.
3. As soon as she starts telling a story yell, "FREE BEER IN THE OTHER ROOM!" No one likes her stories more than beer - no one should ever like anything more than beer.
or...
4. Shave her eyebrows off. That shit doesn't grow back that same way EVER again. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
The Can't Take a Hint Friend
The Friend That Has No Other Friends But You
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear and Jah-Day
How You Met:
At a kegger in 1st year university, after doing a keg stand in a skirt, you were telling a story about your cat surviving an attack by a family of raccoons. Rachel loved your story! And followed it by a story about her cat driving her family to Florida in their SUV and using its tail to change the cruise control. She swears she's not lying.
Your group of friends loves her because she always has a good story and she is willing to do insane dares to entertain the masses. In the beginning, you too, were infatuated by her hootzpah and her high tolerance for jagger bombs. When you got to know her outside of the party scene though, you realized the only conversations you had were you talking and her trying to top it.
For example, when you tell her you just got an A on a paper and a hot guy asked you out on the subway, she immediately tops it with, her acceptance into med school and Taylor Lautner asking her on a date (we know he's only 16). When you say that you had a bad day because your computer crashed and your parents are getting a divorce, instead of comforting you, she tries to make you feel better by starting a sentence with "That sucks, but you should hear about my day."
Your Relationship Now:
Rachel would say it's the best friendship she's ever been in. You would say, you would rather vomit up old cream than hear another one-up "Rachel stylez." Sometimes it would be nice if she could just listen, and not jerk-off her continual boner full of stories right into your mouth and eyes. But you don't know how to tell her that her cum's only good when you didn't have to get her off with one of your own arousing stories in the first place.
How Do You Deal?:
Our usual approach is to just stop talking to that filthy, stealing vagina scab. But that's no fun. You gotta teach this bitch a lesson she'll never forget. You could try one, or all, of the following:
1. In the middle of her story, interrupt her with a disgusted face and say, "Oh my god! Did you just fart?" Then ask the people around her if they can smell that, and suggest that you move locations.
2. Catch her before she starts her one-up by saying, "Ya Rachel, it's kind of like that time you slept with that circus gremlin and got chlamydia. Did you ever get that cleared up by the way?" That will get rid of her story chubby.
3. As soon as she starts telling a story yell, "FREE BEER IN THE OTHER ROOM!" No one likes her stories more than beer - no one should ever like anything more than beer.
or...
4. Shave her eyebrows off. That shit doesn't grow back that same way EVER again. It's the gift that keeps on giving.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
The Can't Take a Hint Friend
The Friend That Has No Other Friends But You
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear and Jah-Day
The Never Gonna "Make It Big" Friend
How You Met:
You were convinced, by your Always Bails On You Friend, to go to a post-punk show at the Big Bop. You make the stupid decision to take a piss, and, before you even buy your first beer, your friend is gone. Thus, leaving you all alone, surrounded by depressed, potentially violent slaves to music, with asymmetrical haircuts and bad tattoos.
You make your way to the bar, thinking, you might as well enjoy a beer to make the $8.75 you paid to get in worth your while. As you sip your bottle of 50, you notice a friendly looking guy hand drumming on the bar, fully immersed in making annoying sounds. Your natural thought process would usually be, "holy shit, this guy wishes he was Dave Grohl...too bad he has no rhythm." But for some reason, you are drawn to this leather choker wearing male.
He notices you looking at him and asks what band you're here to see. You reply, "I just popped two Gravols and I'm not sure how I got here." He looks mildly offended, but laughs at your joke. You instantly hit it off! You realize this rhythmless punk is fucking hilarious. After twenty minutes of chatting, he stands up, touches your shoulder, and says he will be back in a bit. You smile as he walks away - and think "I just made a new friend."
Those pleasant thoughts are interrupted by what sounds like possessed babies banging pots and pans together. You look towards the stage to find, that in fact, it is four grown men, one of which is your new friend, playing in what they would refer to as a band, but what the general public might refer to as offensive noise pollution.
Your Relationship Now:
Duncan (stage name: Drummkin) has played in several bands since you met him 2 years ago. This includes: The Cherry Poppers, The Popped Cherries, Razors in My Eyes, The Dream Sweepers and Satan's Minions. They almost got their hit song, "Kiss My Leprosy," in the top 1000 in 2009. But not quite...actually not even close.
Duncan treats you like gold. You go to all his shows (by yourself, because you are too embarrassed to invite anyone), and you always compliment Satan's Minions on their deep lyrical insights and their energy while performing. Though the band sounds like four guys playing four completely different songs all the time, they are a wonderful group of friends that you want to keep in your life. At most of their after-parties, while drinking whiskey on a rooftop, their sentences almost solely begin with the words, "When we make it big..." And while they promise you new cars, a trip to Cuba and a spot on their tour bus, you don't have the heart to tell them that it is more likely for Roseanne, or John Goodman, to be contracted as a Victoria Secret model than anyone not related to them buying their CD.
How Do You Deal?
You don't. For some reason we have a soft spot for these folks. Their naive hopefulness and pathetic talents really touches our souls. We aren't sure if it is their Prince Albert piercings or their all-red contacts that make us more accepting - but you have to feel sorry for these ass-holes. Usually, they are so delusional that they have not finished high school, or, even had a glimmer of hope for getting a job, because they truly believe in Satan's Minions ability to "wow" audiences around the world. But, as the old wise saying goes, "don't count your eggs while they are still up inside the chickens ass."
So all you can do is be supportive. Go every show, dance to every song, sing to "Kiss my Leprosy" and wear their t-shirts with pride (when you are in the comfort of your own home). Because if there weren't shitty bands in the world there would be no one to make Bon Jovi look good and way more young people actually contributing to society.
Other Types of Never Gonna "Make It Biggers":
We don't want you sucky band folk to think we are just picking on you, so we are going to extend our brutal criticisms to the rest of the artistic/performance world. This group can include:
1. Shitty artists. For some reason they still get art openings in "edgy" coffee shops all over the city. But we can't understand for the life of us why, this "rare" breed of Andy Warhol rip-offs, believes that not only can they steal the concept of pop-art and claim it as their own, but that people will actually fall for this COMPLETE AND TOTAL B.S. again.
2. Bad actor friends. No, you will not get a spot on Degrassi. No, you will not move to L.A. No, you will not help your team win at charades.
3. Brutal comedian. We are laughing AT you.
This Friend is Compatible With:
The Stuck in the Past Friend
The Nothing Ever Changes Friend
The Pipe Dreams Friend
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear, Jah-Day, C-Monster
You were convinced, by your Always Bails On You Friend, to go to a post-punk show at the Big Bop. You make the stupid decision to take a piss, and, before you even buy your first beer, your friend is gone. Thus, leaving you all alone, surrounded by depressed, potentially violent slaves to music, with asymmetrical haircuts and bad tattoos.
You make your way to the bar, thinking, you might as well enjoy a beer to make the $8.75 you paid to get in worth your while. As you sip your bottle of 50, you notice a friendly looking guy hand drumming on the bar, fully immersed in making annoying sounds. Your natural thought process would usually be, "holy shit, this guy wishes he was Dave Grohl...too bad he has no rhythm." But for some reason, you are drawn to this leather choker wearing male.
He notices you looking at him and asks what band you're here to see. You reply, "I just popped two Gravols and I'm not sure how I got here." He looks mildly offended, but laughs at your joke. You instantly hit it off! You realize this rhythmless punk is fucking hilarious. After twenty minutes of chatting, he stands up, touches your shoulder, and says he will be back in a bit. You smile as he walks away - and think "I just made a new friend."
Those pleasant thoughts are interrupted by what sounds like possessed babies banging pots and pans together. You look towards the stage to find, that in fact, it is four grown men, one of which is your new friend, playing in what they would refer to as a band, but what the general public might refer to as offensive noise pollution.
Your Relationship Now:
Duncan (stage name: Drummkin) has played in several bands since you met him 2 years ago. This includes: The Cherry Poppers, The Popped Cherries, Razors in My Eyes, The Dream Sweepers and Satan's Minions. They almost got their hit song, "Kiss My Leprosy," in the top 1000 in 2009. But not quite...actually not even close.
Duncan treats you like gold. You go to all his shows (by yourself, because you are too embarrassed to invite anyone), and you always compliment Satan's Minions on their deep lyrical insights and their energy while performing. Though the band sounds like four guys playing four completely different songs all the time, they are a wonderful group of friends that you want to keep in your life. At most of their after-parties, while drinking whiskey on a rooftop, their sentences almost solely begin with the words, "When we make it big..." And while they promise you new cars, a trip to Cuba and a spot on their tour bus, you don't have the heart to tell them that it is more likely for Roseanne, or John Goodman, to be contracted as a Victoria Secret model than anyone not related to them buying their CD.
How Do You Deal?
You don't. For some reason we have a soft spot for these folks. Their naive hopefulness and pathetic talents really touches our souls. We aren't sure if it is their Prince Albert piercings or their all-red contacts that make us more accepting - but you have to feel sorry for these ass-holes. Usually, they are so delusional that they have not finished high school, or, even had a glimmer of hope for getting a job, because they truly believe in Satan's Minions ability to "wow" audiences around the world. But, as the old wise saying goes, "don't count your eggs while they are still up inside the chickens ass."
So all you can do is be supportive. Go every show, dance to every song, sing to "Kiss my Leprosy" and wear their t-shirts with pride (when you are in the comfort of your own home). Because if there weren't shitty bands in the world there would be no one to make Bon Jovi look good and way more young people actually contributing to society.
Other Types of Never Gonna "Make It Biggers":
We don't want you sucky band folk to think we are just picking on you, so we are going to extend our brutal criticisms to the rest of the artistic/performance world. This group can include:
1. Shitty artists. For some reason they still get art openings in "edgy" coffee shops all over the city. But we can't understand for the life of us why, this "rare" breed of Andy Warhol rip-offs, believes that not only can they steal the concept of pop-art and claim it as their own, but that people will actually fall for this COMPLETE AND TOTAL B.S. again.
2. Bad actor friends. No, you will not get a spot on Degrassi. No, you will not move to L.A. No, you will not help your team win at charades.
3. Brutal comedian. We are laughing AT you.
This Friend is Compatible With:
The Stuck in the Past Friend
The Nothing Ever Changes Friend
The Pipe Dreams Friend
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear, Jah-Day, C-Monster
Monday, August 16, 2010
The Horse Friend
Everybody's got one.
How You Met:
You knew her before she was the Horse Girl. You knew her in first grade when her obsessive tendencies started to surface in the form of compulsive sticker collecting. The summer of '95, both of your parents and her parents decided to send you two to overnight horse camp for a week. Upon arrival, you quickly started to notice that there was a colossal difference between you and these fucking saddle club bitches. While you mildly enjoyed straddling a large, unpredictable beast that smelled like farts n' hay, these girls seemed to almost be getting off on the idea.
When you watched Stacey brushing Sir Albert's mane, you started to notice her jaw clench and a look come across her face, similar to that of a coke addict about to get his fix. On the way back from camp, in the back of Stacey's mom's minivan, while you were indulging in some minivan mints, all Stacey could talk about were these four-legged creatures and the freaks who ride them. You knew something had changed forever.
How You Know?
Some of you may think that you don't have a horse friend anymore. But you do. You have a horse friend if you have a friend who exhibits any of these behaviours:
1. The majority of their Facebook profile pictures involve a horse, them on their horse, them beside their horse in horse attire, or a black and white photo of them kissing their horse on its filthy carrot-lips.
2. They stalk up on carrots the way neurotic folks stalked up on water during Y2K.
3. Their hair is in a braid 80% of the time, and looks like they may have borrowed Sir Albert's horse comb.
4. They look like a horse.
5. They smell like a horse.
6. They own Black Beauty on VHS, DVD, and Blueray.
Your Relationship Now:
Though you have drifted apart because of endless horse competitions and your complete and utter disgust for her lifestyle choices, you and Stacey have remained friends. And by friends we mean, if you bumped into Stacey at a party, you may be able to have an enjoyable five-minute conversation with her before she starts talking about her horse. But the truth is, if she offered you a ride home in her hairy barn car, you wouldn't take it.
It's not that Stacey's not a nice person, she just didn't have a normal teenage upbringing. While you were getting high in your parents garage and getting felt up by various dip-shits, Stacey was forming a borderline unhealthy attachment to another mammal whose shit she had to clean up. While you were being teased to the point of brutal humiliation by your siblings and peers, Stacey was having one-sided conversations with Sir Albert and the gang. Thus, never realizing what a fucking weirdo she was.
You feel a little bad about this, but sometimes when your friend are over and you guys need a laugh, you show them Stacey's horse pictures - especially the action shots. Nothings funnier than seeing a grown women, in full equestrian gear, taking herself seriously.
How To Deal?
In all seriousness, we love animals too. And we understand that you can have human-like relationships with them. But at some point, in any human to animal or human to human relationship, you have to draw a line.
Thus, this specimen of a friend requires a very ruthless approach, because people who are really fucking lame, usually have no idea. Buy yourself a horse costume, act out a slow and dramatic death to symbolize (in her native tongue) that the ancient practice of horse back riding is a dead art. Feel free to take some artistic merit on your performance; throw in some convulsions and regurgitated carrots. Usually a sneak attack is best, probably at the barn next to Sir Albert. Then laugh hysterically, she will get the hint that horses are silly.
Don't get us wrong, we have passions too - just not fucking lame ones.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
Horses
Other Horse Friends
And For Your Enjoyment:
We have included our favourite vocabulary from the "Horse Glossary"
A.I.- Artificial insemination, the mechanical introduction of semen into the genital tract of the female.
Artificial vagina - A mechanical device with a rubber liner used to collect semen from the stallion.
H.P. - Horsey-Pie
Bowed hocks - a weakness in which the hocks bow outwards when viewed from behind. (This one isn't exclusive to horses.)
Love Forever,
C-Monster, Jah-Day, and Sh-Bear
Monday, August 9, 2010
The Obligation Friend
How You Met:
Your moms have been best friends since University. You have grown up going on camping trips, having sleepovers, spending vacations, and doing joint birthday parties with Sheila. But the weird thing is, you don't actually like her. In fact, you hate her. If you had your choice, Sheila would take up permanent residence in Nunavut. Unfortunately, when she made the long awaited decision to move to the city, she moved into your apartment building, as per her mother's suggestion.
Your Relationship Now:
You couldn't count on five hundred hands how many times you have wanted to stab yourself in the eye while hanging out with Sheila - and yet you still hang out with her, at least twice a week. You do this because every time you talk to your mother, she asks, in that tone that only a mother can, "Have you seen Sheila lately, sweetie? Her mother said that she has been trying to get a hold of you. You should always make sure you have time for your friends." Instead of replying "Ya, she can't get a hold of me because I screen her calls, I use the stairwell instead of the elevator, and I have a pully system rigged up out my window for my friend to put groceries in." You reply, "Ya, Sheila. I'll call her."
So you call her. You fake enthusiasm, just like you have faked your whole life, and invite her over for dinner. As you flip your cell phone shut, you sigh and wonder why, at age 27, you still have to hang out with some lame bitch you despise.
How Do You Deal?
Along with screening Sheila's calls, start screening your Mother's too. Take a deep breath and let the obligation fade away...until it knocks on your apartment door.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
The Stuck-In-The-Past Friend
The Friend Who Has No Other Friends But You
Your moms have been best friends since University. You have grown up going on camping trips, having sleepovers, spending vacations, and doing joint birthday parties with Sheila. But the weird thing is, you don't actually like her. In fact, you hate her. If you had your choice, Sheila would take up permanent residence in Nunavut. Unfortunately, when she made the long awaited decision to move to the city, she moved into your apartment building, as per her mother's suggestion.
Your Relationship Now:
You couldn't count on five hundred hands how many times you have wanted to stab yourself in the eye while hanging out with Sheila - and yet you still hang out with her, at least twice a week. You do this because every time you talk to your mother, she asks, in that tone that only a mother can, "Have you seen Sheila lately, sweetie? Her mother said that she has been trying to get a hold of you. You should always make sure you have time for your friends." Instead of replying "Ya, she can't get a hold of me because I screen her calls, I use the stairwell instead of the elevator, and I have a pully system rigged up out my window for my friend to put groceries in." You reply, "Ya, Sheila. I'll call her."
So you call her. You fake enthusiasm, just like you have faked your whole life, and invite her over for dinner. As you flip your cell phone shut, you sigh and wonder why, at age 27, you still have to hang out with some lame bitch you despise.
How Do You Deal?
Along with screening Sheila's calls, start screening your Mother's too. Take a deep breath and let the obligation fade away...until it knocks on your apartment door.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
The Stuck-In-The-Past Friend
The Friend Who Has No Other Friends But You
The Awkward When High Friend
How You Met:
You and Louis were friends back when Blink182 was the soundtrack to your lives and drinking your mom's shitty coolers in the parking lot of a department store with two other guys was your idea of a big Friday night. Somewhere a long the line when Kevin kissed Tracy while he was dating Ashley and Louis told Kristy in an unknown 3-way-call with Ashley, shit hit the fan, and you lost touch. But it wasn't a big deal really, because it was Ashley's fault anyway.
Your Relationship Now:
Some years later, you both are working as computer programmers for some ridiculous children's game that teaches them how to read and do yoga at the same time. On your breaks you start to realize that Louis is a cool guy. So you start getting together after work to crush a few brews once in a while. One night, after a particularly rambunctious evening out, you invite him back to your place to blaze a j, order pizza, and play a video game. Just after smokin' a fat one, you look at your friend and realize that he definitely doesn't smoke weed often. Gregarious Louis has morphed into one awkward mother fucker.
You try to ease his jitters and sketchy stares with some casual toilet talk and sports statistics. You even pull out your weird over-40 porn collection to have a laugh, but he can't enjoy it because he is too worried about the police showing up at your front door. So when the pizza man makes the mistake of thumping on your antique door knocker instead of using your pussy doorbell, Louis goes ape shit. He does one lap of you living, grabs his coat and peaces out.
The next day at work, Louis is back to his fun loving self and you feel like you are friends with Jekyll and High-ed.
How Do You Deal?
The obvious answer for most people would be to stop smoking with Louis. But then, if you let your friend live his whole life being the Awkward When High Friend, what kind of friend does that make you? Instead, you decide to engage Louis in some intensive training, or what you call your life from 2001 to 2007. You pull out all the stops; bongs, vaporizers, pipes, cookies, blunts, and those creepy masks from WWII. You indulge him in your highly intellectual movie collection; Half Baked, White Boys, Super High Me, and the Labrynth from good measure. You feel like a drill sergeant who can't remember what he is drilling.
After six weeks, you and Louis have consumed 18 bags of dill pickle chips dipped in dill pickle dip, 16 party pizzas, 19 bricks of cheese, and had the same conversation 28 times. But the point isn't the conversations you're having, the point is that you are having them while you are high.
So pat yourself on the back, because Louis is no longer the Awkward When Stoned Friend...he's the Always Stoned Friend.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
The Always Stoned Friend
The Really Bad Advice Friend
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear, C-Monster and Jah-Day
You and Louis were friends back when Blink182 was the soundtrack to your lives and drinking your mom's shitty coolers in the parking lot of a department store with two other guys was your idea of a big Friday night. Somewhere a long the line when Kevin kissed Tracy while he was dating Ashley and Louis told Kristy in an unknown 3-way-call with Ashley, shit hit the fan, and you lost touch. But it wasn't a big deal really, because it was Ashley's fault anyway.
Your Relationship Now:
Some years later, you both are working as computer programmers for some ridiculous children's game that teaches them how to read and do yoga at the same time. On your breaks you start to realize that Louis is a cool guy. So you start getting together after work to crush a few brews once in a while. One night, after a particularly rambunctious evening out, you invite him back to your place to blaze a j, order pizza, and play a video game. Just after smokin' a fat one, you look at your friend and realize that he definitely doesn't smoke weed often. Gregarious Louis has morphed into one awkward mother fucker.
You try to ease his jitters and sketchy stares with some casual toilet talk and sports statistics. You even pull out your weird over-40 porn collection to have a laugh, but he can't enjoy it because he is too worried about the police showing up at your front door. So when the pizza man makes the mistake of thumping on your antique door knocker instead of using your pussy doorbell, Louis goes ape shit. He does one lap of you living, grabs his coat and peaces out.
The next day at work, Louis is back to his fun loving self and you feel like you are friends with Jekyll and High-ed.
How Do You Deal?
The obvious answer for most people would be to stop smoking with Louis. But then, if you let your friend live his whole life being the Awkward When High Friend, what kind of friend does that make you? Instead, you decide to engage Louis in some intensive training, or what you call your life from 2001 to 2007. You pull out all the stops; bongs, vaporizers, pipes, cookies, blunts, and those creepy masks from WWII. You indulge him in your highly intellectual movie collection; Half Baked, White Boys, Super High Me, and the Labrynth from good measure. You feel like a drill sergeant who can't remember what he is drilling.
After six weeks, you and Louis have consumed 18 bags of dill pickle chips dipped in dill pickle dip, 16 party pizzas, 19 bricks of cheese, and had the same conversation 28 times. But the point isn't the conversations you're having, the point is that you are having them while you are high.
So pat yourself on the back, because Louis is no longer the Awkward When Stoned Friend...he's the Always Stoned Friend.
This Friend Is Compatible With:
The Always Stoned Friend
The Really Bad Advice Friend
Love Forever,
Sh-Bear, C-Monster and Jah-Day
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