How could a grown man have a face like the Little Debbie logo? It’s a question I cannot answer, but find myself asking from time to time. You know, because I regularly see a dude who looks like, well… Little Debbie. And I don’t often notice folks who resemble a corporate trademark. Ya know?
While I was at Wendy’s today I also saw a guy with air hockey pucks in his earlobes. And an elderly lesbian with a buzzcut, eating fries while standing at the counter. I don’t have a problem with the elderly lesbian part, but man, I hate it when people eat fries before they get to their table. You seriously can’t wait one more minute? Pigs.
I also don’t like it when people eat with a rhythm, if you know what I mean. Like a machine, with an identifiable cadence. And if the previous mouthful hasn’t been fully processed yet, it doesn’t matter. Another bite must be introduced, because the rhythm demands it. I’m simply not a fan. Shake that shit up a little!
Oh, and ol’ air hockey ears? Whatever. If someone wants to mutilate their sound-catchers with checkers or a class ring, then good for them. But don’t expect me to be impressed, just because you followed some idiotic trend. Or be shocked, or outraged, or whatever reaction you’re going for. I just think one word: douche.
I was talking with someone about this a few days ago, and they got up on their high horse: “Young people should be allowed to express their individuality, blah, blah, blah…” Did I say anything about not allowing it? No, I did not. But I should also be allowed to render the verdict of douche. It goes both ways.
And individuality? Ha! Doing the same stuff as all your friends is not exactly blazing the trail of a maverick.
It’s like those entertainers who talk about politics, in sober and earnest tones. They act like they’re being courageous, but what’s so courageous about having the exact same paint-by-numbers opinions as everyone you know? Just shut up and sing.
Oh yeah, and I also regularly encounter a person I’ve dubbed “Eb who says fuck too much.” It doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue, but it’s accurate. He looks like Eb and says fuck too much. Fuck is like garlic, a little goes a long way. Somebody needs to tell Eb this.
And just so you know… One of my cousins read my update a few days ago, about constipation, and said he once struggled so hard to “get one out” he ripped a handicap rail off the wall, in a public restroom.
And Steve told me his sister works with a woman who weighs roughly 350 pounds. She was in the bathroom at work, taking a dump and lighting matches to try to mask the stink. Something went wrong, and she caught her underwear on fire. Then she freaked out, tripped over her pants, and fell through a section of drywall.
Also, I used to know a girl named Annette, who lived in a dumpy apartment in Atlanta. She said she was sitting on the toilet one night, and a cockroach fell from the vent above her head. She didn’t notice it, and the roach landed on her underwear. When she pulled them up, she could feel something crawling around on her (Annette’s word, not mine) cooter. She said she almost exploded a kidney trying to rip her pants and underwear off. Heh.
And I don’t know what the hell kind of stream-of-consciousness, daisy chain of ridiculousness this update turned out to be. I don’t know whether to be happy with it, or apologize.
In any case, I hope you guys have a great weekend. I’ll be back on Sunday or Monday. We’ll just have to play it by ear.
See ya later!
Now playing in the bunker
Treat yourself at Amazon: US and Canada
Uno.
If making your readers laugh out loud makes you happy, then you can be happy with this one. Thanks.
I like it.
I thought it was funny as fuck. Shit.
Great stuff!
“ But I should also be allowed to render the verdict of douche. It goes both ways.“
I concur with the rest of the reporters who have reported thus far.
I once was unpleasantly surprised by a very large cockroach that had been hiding behind the toilet paper, and appeared riding over the top as I was taking what I needed. I’m really glad I was alone in the apartment, because the resulting chaos was not exactly classy.
I’m starting to hyperventilate just thinking about this scenario.
“Fuck is like garlic”
You been into Sunshine’s “vitamins”?
He did better than that, he got into her “antibiotics”.
“Garlic off shitlips” just does not have the proper feel to it.
I made the mistake of picking up a dirty diaper left on a mall bathroom changing table. ROACHES RAN OUT OF THE DIAPER AND ALL OVER THE CHANGING TABLE.
I’m pretty sure the entire mall heard me scream.
My daughter, the ever unsympathetic 11 year old, raised her eyebrows and flatly said, “That’s what happens when you try to be nice.”
Smart kid.
So jaded at such a young age. It will serve her well.
Tomorrow I’m flying up to Kansas City to see my mom and my sister. I love my family, but I’m already looking forward to getting black-out drunk when I get home on Monday night. Wish me luck surviving the weekend.
Black-out drunk…..such a sweet comfort zone.
The mental picture I got of the fat bitch setting her underwear on fire is the funniest thing all week. Thanks Jeff!!
today, some nasty ass bitch did not wash her hands after blowing out her ass gasket ..that made me want to scream…
oh and Jeff, this was a gem of an update
This is one of the greatest updates I’ve read in ages. not to say they havn’t been great, this one was just especially good.
Also, having lived in the shittiest of shit apartments, I can attest to the fear and utter disgust that comes with a movement in your clothing and it being a cockroach.
And who or what is “Eb”
Agreed. The fuck?
Eb:
http://www.imdb.com/media/rm1519228672/tt0058808
How can you let people who do not know who Eb is become Surf Reporters? I thought this club (gang?) had minimum standards.
I hope not….
I’d much prefer the “Mr. Haney who says fuck too much”.
Or Arnold who says fuck too much.
great post, this is what i live for everyday, cant wait for the surf report to update, this is hilarious stuff right here!
Mmmmmm… a little piss and vinegar in this update. Liked it….. and really, really trying hard not to say fuck.
My dog drinks in threes.
“lap, lap, lap … lap, lap, lap …lap, lap, lap”
I just realized I drink beers in threes.
“Beer…beer, beer…beer, beer, beer,…beer, beer, beer”. (Piss and repeat)…
I read some of the pooping stories in your update to my 7 year-old, and he is now also a fan of Jeff Kay’s writing.
“celebrate the moments of your life….”
A termite fell into my mom’s panties while she was on the pot, and it allegedly bit her puss. It bit her, my dad asked her “On the thigh?” and she said no, higher…
Yuck.
That’s not called biting.
Great update, Jeff. Very stream-of-consciousness.
I figure that people with outlandish tattoos, piercings etc. on display must want to draw attention to themselves. Fine, but don’t get all offended when people look.
.
Jeff, sometimes your daisy chains of ridiculousness turn out to be your funniest stuff.
You forgot to repeat how much you hate people who fold a slice of pizza to eat it.
And people who back into parking spots.
Re: Eb who says fuck too much
The cornerstone of a relatives vocabulary is “shit”. I once heard him use shit, in three different contexts, in the same sentence, (paraphrasing) “shit I don’t give a shit about that shit”. It’s a joy to have him around my 3 year old.
But the fucker’s from New Jersey, so what the fuck’s he gonna do?
A dude that looks like Little Debbie? The poor fuck.
Boy Jeff, I love when you have a hair up your butt. The vision of the fatty with her panties in flames will carry me through this crappy day!
Speaking of those douchebags showing their “individuality”… We get a lot of them here in the office wanting their earlobes repaired. Usually, they stretch their earlobes so thin, the ring or dinner plate or whatever just splits the remaining skin and falls out. This is only after they realize that they have to enter real life and get a job because their freelance art work won’t support them….and neither will mommy and daddy.
I almost wrecked my car when a spider was swinging from a web inside the door frame. I freaked the fuck out. I pulled over to the side of the road and crawled out on my back. Some guy stopped to see if I needed help and killed the thing for me. Probably thought I was completely insane. But if that thing would have dropped on me, I’d still be in a rehab center sucking my thumb. Yes, I’m that afraid of them.
I saw a bald headed lesbian who looked like Mr. Clean and I’d bet she eats her fucking french fries wherever the fuck she wants.
Maybe Jeff should pull a Deadwood and count the number of fucks on thewvsr.
Upon reading my previous comment, I thought it prudent to clarify.
Jeff should count the number of times the word fuck appears in the comments, not the number of fucks posting the word fuck.
I believe it could go either way.
…And…I’ll have you know…I’ve always prided myself on be able to stricky conform to a nonconformists lifestlye.
“And I don’t know what the hell kind of stream-of-consciousness, daisy chain of ridiculousness this update turned out to be. I don’t know whether to be happy with it, or apologize.”
It’s what we’re paying you for, Jeff.
A person who eats with a certain cadence is a Metranom.
FUNNY!!
When we were kids, we didn’t have a clothes dryer. My mom hung everything outside. She would fold everything as she took it down and then put it away.
One time she took a fresh nightgown out of her drawer, put it on, and got into bed. Immediately she jumped up screaming tearing the thing off of her. She had folded a wasp into her nightie and had sat on it when she got into bed.
The story was shared by my late father, laughing so hard he had tears.
The story about the roach in the underwear… that would have put me in a psych facility for sure!
On an unrelated note; I just got off the phone with my CC company. Apparently on the same day I bought Jeff a beer using my card through the non-paypal paypal link I signed up for russiancupid.something or other to the tune of $24.95. The CC company is in the process of fixing it and opening a new account. Watch you statements, Surf reporters. The damn russkies had an ulterior motive. No harm, no foul. But the bastards tried.
Thanks for the heads up. I just checked my statement, no funny business on my end but I paid through a normal paypal account.
i had bad day
needed good laugh
‘thank you very much,jeff
“fuck is like garlic” – brilliant. Laughed about it all day
I was informed tonight that sports are absurd. That hurt.
This update made me laugh so hard I cried.
I used to live in Cambridge, MA…a bastion of liberalism unmatched by any other. The place was teeming with metro- sexuals, emo types, hyper effeminate stay-at-home nurturing men who carried children in swaying bundles/slings against their chests like Cambodian refugees, patchouli-wearing dykes, tattooed hipsters, and douche bags with more face holes (piercings) than a kitchen colander. One I saw the following…. upon while exiting the subway at an above ground train stop landing covered with ice, in front of me was a hyper-skinny tattoo freak with soup can sized rings embedded in his ears. Well, he was wearing hyper pointy purple suede Italian shoes with smooth leather soles….he hit the ice, did a gymnast-worthy split and caught one of his dumbo ear hoops on the handle of the nearby newspaper vending box……rendering that hoop and his skin-ring into two dangling flesh-hoses spewing blood. He screamed and pissed his lime colored shinny jeans a split second later. No doubt he was late for his job at the Hipster Haven cafe. “Douche” …the one word I could muster
Fuckin’ douche.
I see your Cambridge, MA and raise you a Santa Cruz, CA – a place where a homeless person taking a shit at the base of a tree downtown is not considered gross, but free organic fertilizer.
That’s inthenthitive (insensitive)!
Jeff, you were mentioned on the front page of Fairmont’s Times West Virginian.
Because of the Jason Headley article?
Ok, I claim that eating just one fry from the ones they slap down on the counter is necessary to judge if they are fresh enough or that a re-fry must be demanded.
Little Debbie reference had me tearing up from the beginning. Great stuff, man.