The Pitch

Movie Quotes

Awesome Database Security Contest Submission Video

The Christmas Brothers Present...

A Reason To Live

Wine!

How To Run A Bachelor Party Into The Ground

Haunted: Dead or Alive

Fighting Depression 101

Another Reason To Live

How To Window Shop Incorrectly

Old Man & Eggs
Old Man and Eggs

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Dear Dan

ONLINE HIGH SCHOOL REUNION

DEAR DAN: My friend, John Legostein (his Jewish dad invented Legos and he’s made up), hates myspace and facebook because high school acquaintances he never wanted to see again are finding him. What would you do if you were he?
- HOPSCOTCH CHAMPION IN CHATANOOGA

DEAR HOPSCOTCH CHAMPION: I don’t care who finds me. If someone I’ve never met adds me I’ll confirm the shit out of it. “Oh you’re a sixty five year old from Wyoming who likes the look of my profile? Welcome to my top 8, friendo.”

The only reason I would hate it if old acquaintances were finding me would be if I were still getting bullied online?

“Eddy Henderson has poked you… and punched you… and called you “pubic head” while sending spitballs at your face as you visit your locker before 9th period social studies class. Check it out!”

“You’ve been laughed at by Jen Garrett and the rest of the cheerleaders. Want to return the humiliation?”

Jason Marko is asking if you want to add the “You’re a faggot” application. Confirm? Ignore? Go cry in the bathroom stall and hide there until all the busses have left?

Also Hopscotch, Sorry we couldn't meet up last night. I got back from Bethlehem, PA late last night and ended up watching the end of Milk. You were right. He does die in the end, but what you forgot to mention was that he was gay the whole time. Talk about a surprise twist and shout (that's how gay people say "surprise twist." Watch the movie again, you'll see).

How To Blow It With A Girl: Step 45

I Got Laid
I Got Laid

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I Got Laid

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85 Things To Include On Your To-Do List

Big fan of “to do” lists?

Success Step 1: Make sure to make long to do lists so it feels like you're accomplishing something all the time.
Once you “take a nap” then you’ve done enough for the day and can take another nap.

Success Step 2: Be an accomplisher not a belly itcher.

Some people worry that they're including too many “to dos.” They'll check off 20 things on their "100 things to do" but at the end of day realize they forgot to “sign up for health insurance” because they were busy checking off “eat apple” and "watch youTube clips."

Forget those people. As we all know, an apple a day keeps the doctor away so you don't have to worry about health insurance. These things will work themselves out in the end. You're welcome.

How To Ruin a Movie For Someone

Check out Funnycakes' latest video at atom.com and let us know what you think...

Movie Day

Atom.com: Funny Videos | Cinematic Comedy | Funny Animations

16 Ways To Ruin A Complement

Are you insulted someone would complement you?
Complements drive us awkward people insane. Not like breathe fire out the ears insane. Just like hunch over and stare at the floor insane.

Why?

Complements never seem as personal as insults.

True Story:
Anyone could say, “I like your eyes” or “your hair looks nice” but it seems like a person puts real thought into saying, “Your breath smells like my asshole after a weekend at Taco Bell.”

Most people don’t want to be mean or confrontational without being funny so they take time out of their day to script something strong if they’re going to make fun of you.

Success Step 1:
If you’re ever insulted, just say, "thank you for thinking of me."

I know I appreciate insults more than complements. Also, my self-esteem might have something to do with it.

How To Lose Listenership

Below is a WHUH Static Radio guide to gaining listenership for your community college radio station...

Step 1: Introduce Yourself. The Worst That Can Happen Is You'll Hate Everyone


Step 2: Familiarize Yourself With Your Surroundings So You Can Ambush Burglers


Step 3: Burn Bridges

How To Bomb Without Grace

Sexy Seniors

How To Film The Perfect Comedy Special

Ever watch a televised comedy special where the comic mentions black people before the cameras cut to black people in the audience. Black people get enough TV airtime, am I right Eskimos?

Then the comic talks about women with big breasts and the cameras cut to women with big breasts.

Comics wonder why audiences are afraid they’re going to get made fun of at comedy shows. Maybe it’s because the cameras are singling out people more than the comics.

“And what about these women who throw up in the bathroom…” Cut to a six-year old girl with a stomach virus.

“Or these sexy bloggers...” Cut to me.

“Or these pedophiles who go to comedy shows...” Cut to a guy holding stomach virus girl on his lap. He might be enjoying the joke then, but what happens when the recorded special comes out on DVD and he sees the cameras cut to him? That won’t be comfortable. We should be making our pedophiles feel special. They take the time to make our kids feel special. It’s our duty to give back.

How To Become a Scientologist

I'm becoming a Scientologist.

Scientology is one of those words that must be pronounced with the sound of laughter behind it, otherwise it has been mispronounced.

Last night, while moping around Harvard Sq., I stopped off and took a "Free" outdoor stress test.

Fun Fact: Never take a stress test when you're depressed. You will end up buying every product they're offering.

"You're right, I do feel a bit depressed. I could most definitely use that self-help guide. AND there's a supplemental CD for my listening pleasure? Sign me up."

"You have group meetings and costly psychological visits? How did you know that's what I needed?"

The stress test works as follows: You sit outside the Harvard Sq. T station, located in between two lanes of oncoming traffic. Meanwhile, heroin and coke addicts stumble by, mumbling to no one in particular, with an occasional scream for good measure. If you're not stressed from just sitting there, then you probably don't have a pulse.

While remaining seated, you hold two hollow metal rods in your palms. Each is wired into a Fisher price looking machine that you know is complete bullshit. While you ponder how long you have to sit there to remain polite, the guy asks you to tell him things you find stressful. Then the machine moves.

He says, "what's stressing you these days?"

And I say, "girls."

Then the meter arrow moves and he says, "see that? It moved. It means girls stress you out."

Yea, that's what I just told you. Thanks for analyzing and repeating the words coming from my mouth.

Then he asks me to get into my emotions and how I feel about girls. And I say, "Frustration, depression."

And the meter moves again. And he says, "see depression seems to be stressing you out."

"What kind of research did you have to do to discover that? The magic of scientology."

"Don't tell me stress is stressing me out. That's too much to handle. It stresses me out thinking about the extra stress that stress buildup ensues, caking onto my stressful stress. I have to buy another DVD to help it back down.

The next thing he said was "we have a book here on Dianetics by L. Ron Hubbard. It's good for people who have stress in their lives. You should get one." So it's good for everyone.

And I say, "that is the stupidest argument for a book. Everyone gets stressed out...of course I'll buy the book. What else do you have? A DVD? I'd love one, unless you have the box set, then I'm sold."

The book is 1,000 pages. I can't read more than 10 pages at a time, but for some reason I thought I could read a 1,000 page book. It looks more like a science fiction novel then a fact based self-help guide. There's a volcano erupting on the front and it says, "Bestseller."

They kept selling it as "This is sold in 50 languages and 200 countries." Like I'm gonna be like "Ok now I'll buy it. If people speaking Swahili are reading this then it must be good. I took French for 7 years and learned nothing, but the fact that there's a possibility of me reading this in French is very moving."

They defined several words in the footnotes to help you feel retarded. Some of the definitions were suspect:

Sir Isaac Newton was defined as an "idiot head."

Point is, get a book on Dianetics.

Global Shwarming My Dick Straw

My friend, P.J. Darko (Donnie's cousin), told me "some science shows the earth’s climate is shifting despite what we do and those shifts affect the earth much more than anything we control so all this hype about global warming is overblown."

Even if talk of global warming were all an excuse to stop pollution, why wouldn’t you be in favor of that?
“That power plant is so beautiful. Why would we end that over some theory about the world’s destruction? Don’t believe the bullshit. Who doesn’t love garbage pileups and spending too much on gas so our cars can fog up the air and make it harder for us to see and breathe? I love depending on resources from the Middle East where clearly there’s no conflict.”

On the other hand, some environmentalists are looking for scapegoats. Many of them are down on the Hummer because it’s supposedly a gas-guzzlers.
Personally, I don’t hate Hummers, just the people who drive them.
I do support the Hummer as a means of job security and think we should be given tanks.
“You’re firing me? No fuck that. I’ll go Tiananmen Square on your ass!”
“What happened to Larry? He was so nice when he was working in accounting.”
“After Citibank fired him the US military let him purchase weapons of mass destruction it kind of went to his head.”
More tanks, less layoffs. No one gets fired if their boss is afraid of a full blown military attack.

The best are Stretch Hummers, for anyone looking to flick off a global warming scientist.
“Oh the earth is going to die if we don’t take care of it? Fuck you. This bachelorette party requested an extra obnoxious waste of space to help them make their presence known before they run around screaming with dick straws. Everything has a purpose. You say potato, I say I could care less if the icecaps melt and drown us all. I need attention.”

Low self-esteem

Having low self-esteem is like pushing a forklift.

The whole time you’re like, “man this thing is heavy. I'm so stupid.”

And everyone else is like, “why are you pushing a forklift? Why don’t you just believe in yourself and sit down in the forklift so you can accomplish something around here?"

Then some girl is like, "I was going to fuck you but then I saw that you were pushing the forklift and I was like, ‘that guy is too weird and insecure to fuck.' So now I'm just gonna fuck the guy that rides the forklift."

And you're like, "You're gonna fuck that guy? But his job is to drive forklifts. How is it that the losers always get the girls? I'm working my ass off and that tool gets the girl."

Dancing with the Devil

While visiting my mom I watched “Dancing with the stars” for the first time. I was surprised at how easily it draws you in and makes you want to watch more, though still gets you to hate yourself the whole time you’re watching it. It’s not like heroin or coke because it doesn’t give you a high, doesn’t help you make friends or make you cool at a party, though it does kill all your time and leave you needing therapy and rehab.

The show is just editing. Pure editing. They’re taking out the boring stuff, removing what people don’t want to see and showing you made up garbage.

In the past it was writers. It was creation. It was people coming up with witticisms and new ideas and satirical voices and challenging conventions.

Now it’s “let someone blab on forever and censor them until it’s watchable.”

Before it was create characters that mimic the idiots we have to live with, applaud the actors and comics who capture those characteristics so well, and congratulate the performers who understand people so well that they can imitate them with a sense of humor.

Now we just take the actual idiots and let them talk for as long as they want and we applaud the fact that they have no people skills. All the assholes we once made fun of, they now have their own shows, and clothing lines, and perfumes, and name brands.

Who’s at fault: the producers who take advantage of the dunces on camera and the average viewer who likes watching dunces…

Or the sluts of shows like Real Life Housewives and every other show about cunty women who get their way…

Or is it the cunty women who like watching this garbage because they like to watch other cunts get their way…

Or is it the dickhead husbands who are drinking in the bar, completely oblivious to the fact comedy is dying on television because they’re too busy hitting on the drunk sluts passing out in the corner.

The Mechanics of Fucking With Me

I spent $540 on a new gas pump for my car on Friday. I have no idea what a gas pump does or why I need it.
My mechanic could sell me anything and I’d have to buy it as long as I need transportation.

“Yea, the scuttlebucket’s busted.”
“The scuttlebucket?”
“Yea, you can’t drive without that thing. That’s what buckets your scuttle.”
“How much does it cost to fix?”
“Well I’m gonna have to brutally rape you in front of your friends and peers.”
“Hmm… I don’t really have that kind of time or energy.”
“Well you can’t drive the car without the scuttlebucket.”
“Alright, I guess I’ll come by Tuesday as long as you can promise me a warranty that I won’t need to get raped for another five months.”
“Four months.”
“This never used to happen when I had a Honda.”

I don't know if I could pull that off. Even if I was told to make up things at my job for people to buy I wouldn't have the confidence to back it up.

“Hi, and welcome to K-mart. I’m sorry sir, but you can’t enter unless you have a K-mart titanium body suit.”
“Get bent Jew face!”
“Good point. Enjoy your shopping time.”

Tears About Heaven

I’m afraid heaven’s going to be like a high school reunion. I get to the clouds and people I never wanted to see again say, “Oh, it’s been so long. What’d you end up doing with your life?”
“Um, I was a temp for awhile and then I thought it’d be a good idea to try cliff diving.”
“That’s it? Who let you in here?”
But I feel better when I see the quarterback who arrived in a totaled Porsche and a heap of Coors Light empties and the Goth kids who came up early with razors and a bathtub.

Then the school shooter arrives and the bullies are like, “Hey needle dick, remember how much we beat you up in gym class? That’s nothing compared to what we’re gonna do to you now we have bullets in our faces. You know how hard it is to get laid up here with a bullet in your face?”

The worst would be to die in an office shooting cause then you have to go to heaven with everyone from work.
“Seriously, guys we’re not in the office anymore. Can’t we find something else to talk about besides the Monthly Totals? I hope I’m getting paid overtime for this.”
Your boss is waiting. “You’re late! Did you get the memo? We’re meeting at 4pm on cloud nine.”
“Wait… is this hell?”
“Hell? How could it be hell? Every day is casual Friday up here.”
Then I go and stare at the cute girl from the cubicle next to me, while God’s like, “this is heaven. You can have anyone you want. That guy bombed a temple and he’s sleeping with 72 virgins.”
And I'm like, "Look, I know I never talked to her while I was alive. This is my chance to start over."

Hell seems a bit far-fetched though. No place can be that hot all the time. The pyrotechnics and state of the art heaters alone would cost a fortune. Plus the landlord sounds like a dick.

Naps: Man's Best Friend

My friends often ask, “How come you’re tired all the time? How can you take so many naps?”
Because it’s easier to say I’m tired than depressed.
If you’re tired people think, “What a bum.”
But if you say you’re depressed people think, “how do I get out of this conversation without it being awkward?”

I picked the wrong species to be.

Every animal I see at the zoo is in the middle of a nap. People still go to the zoo.

Bears get to sleep all winter and no one’s like “I don’t care if it has seasonal depression. What a lazy piece of shit.” Instead, People are scared of bears. I’d love to take a nap, wake up, and have people scared of me. “Dan, sorry to disturb your hibernation. It’s just that you owe for four months of rent and electric bills, but you know what, I’ll cover it. Just don’t maul me.”

The caterpillar slugs around, puts up with that shit, takes a nap, and wakes up as a butterfly, a way better creature. It went to sleep as Slingblade and woke up as Batman. It’s like She’s All That except instead of a new wardrobe you just take a nap in a tiny bedroom. Naps aren’t bad. We’re just forgetting a cocoon.

I wish I could wake up with the ability to fly.
“Hey did you hear about Hirshon?”
“Hirshon-Nap Hirshon?”
“Yea, things are looking up for him. He’s got wings now.”
“How’d he get those?”
“Took a power nap.”
“Man, that guy was right all along about naps.”
“Yea, and he has eyes that shoot lasers.”
“How come?”
“Because he never gets laid.”
“What a hero.”

Don’t be down on naps. They’re not a sign of laziness. They’re a chance to fl… (Blog not finished due to nap).

I Won 8 Olympic Gold Medals But Then I Got High

Michael Phelps is catching flack for smoking pot.
He's been smoking pot for awhile, but everyone thought he had chlorine in his eyes.
“Is he on acid or just practicing the back stroke midair?”
“Is he on crack or does he always wear a speedo?”

The guy won 8 Olympic gold medals. What else do we want from him?

People say he shouldn't have done it because he's a role model and that sends the wrong message. That doesn’t send the wrong message. That should be the message: win 8 gold medals, make $40 million from endorsements, appear on Saturday Night Live and the Wheaties box… Then relax however you want. You’ve earned it.

If he was caught smoking pot five seconds before he won the 8 Olympic races that might send a deceiving message to aspiring Olympic swimmers that pot makes you swim faster, but if you fall for that old gag then you deserve to lose in the Olympics.

It'd be a worse message if he was caught on camera not having fun. "Look kids, you can win 8 olympic gold medals and still be miserable. Just give up."

The only message that would’ve been better would be if he’d smoked from a water bong? “Swimmers, don’t smoke pot. But if you do, at least stay in the water.”

If you see something, try porn.

The New York City subway has a policy to stop crime and terrorism: "If you see something, say something."

The problem is I'm always taking naps on the subway so all I see is dreams. I report them though. I'm a samaritan like that.

I slap the emergency button, stop the subway, jump off, grab a security guard and say, “I just got laid” because even in my dreams that’s a pretty big deal.

I think about sex too much.

One reason I have trouble conversing with women is because I’m thinking about sex the whole time.
“What can I say to lead this to sex?”
Usually I choose the wrong thing to say.

Thus why I should work in the porn industry. Besides the fact I’ve watched so much porn I can write and direct it at this point, working in porn would be good for other aspects of my life:

1.) I wouldn’t think about sex as much at night because I wouldn’t want to take my job home with me after working on it 9-5 every day.

2.) My weekends would be freed up since I wouldn’t waste so much time trying to get laid.

3.) And most importantly I could focus on the more important things in life, like macramé and my attempt to get my name in the Guinness Book of World Records (most bagels eaten in a week).

So porn, here I come…on your face.

Limo Liner

Yesterday I lost my car keys in my parents’ house. If you ever want to hate everyone you talk to then lose your keys.
“Yea, I fucking checked my backpack 17 times! Don’t tell me to look again.”
“No, they’re not in the ignition. Stay out of this grandma. You’re not helping.”

Since I wanted to get home sooner than later I decided to treat myself to a trip down to New York on the limo liner bus.

When you get on a limo liner, you expect a lot for your $89. That’s worth approximately 6 Chinatown bus trips. For this much money I could have my bus break down six times on the high way because the driver was talking on his cell phone while doing 90 miles an hour in the breakdown lane with no permit, registration, or gas.

The good part about the limo liner, in addition to a complementary bagel and free viewing of Pirates of the Carribean: At World’s End, is that you don’t risk decapitation on a Greyhound and having your body eaten while you’re asleep. If I’m going to be murdered, it’s going to be in luxury.

We also have Wifi on here, which means I’ve checked email 80 times. Whenever I check my email I never have new messages. I should check to see if I have other things, like depression and a pitiful sex life. Then that wouldn’t show up so much. After that I should stop checking to see if I have my car keys and when they magically reappear I’ll drive home in the Ferrari I didn’t check to see if I had.

Karma & Lies

I told my friend, “my windshield needs to be replaced and insurance doesn’t cover it.”

And he said, “Here’s the secret for fixing that…” which I thought was the introduction to a wholesome idea... like if I mixed crazy glue with happiness then I could seal the crack forever.

Instead…

He told me to call one of those truck companies that carry salt or rocks and say, “I was driving behind your truck. Something flew off the top of it and cracked my windshield,” and they’ll replace my windshield for free without question because that happens so much.

Here’s why this wouldn’t work for me.

1.) Karma affects me more than most, probably because I assume everything relates to Karma.
“There’s no milk for my Corn Flakes? Thanks a lot karma.”
“The economy’s bad? It's because I lied to the salt delivery company.”

2.) I’m a terrible liar because I don’t have the confidence to stand by my lie. If I called the salt delivery company I’d be the first person in history they’d know was lying.
“Judging by the crack in your windshield I can tell you didn’t come anywhere near a salt truck and since we can prove this in a court of law, we’re going to sue and arrest you for fraud.”
“You’re absolutely right and I’m wrong about everything.”

Then because of karma I’d get the maximum sentence and be someone’s bitch within ten minutes because I don’t know how to lie.
“What are you in here for?”
“Um, kind of a long story, but basically I was murdering my friend for telling me I should call the salt truck company and…”
“You’re my bitch.”
“But I don’t have time to be your bitch. I have a doctor’s appointment at 4 and then…”
“You just bought yourself another butt raping my friend.”