Fucking Danger Will Robinson!

Salutations y'alls!  I know it's been a while since I've posted on here, and for that I'm sincerely sorry.  Shit just gets busy sometimes y'know?  Anyways I was just gonna post this as a Facebook status but I realized I've got way to much rambling to do and not enough space on the 'ole book of face to do so.
Have you seen the new warning labels that are gonna be stuck on cigarettes? From what I gather they're not going into effect until fall of 2012 (assuming the world doesn't end by then) but they are going on every pack in the pretty near future.

Pretty serious shit huh?  Ready for the shock twist in this entry?  I'm completely for these terrifyingly gruesome bastards.  I mean it I think every pack absolutely needs these labels, hell I think every cigarette should have a heat activated chip in it that makes the cigarette yell " Hey dumbass these motherfuckers cause cancer!" in Gilbert Gottfried's voice.  

Fuck you cancer!-Gilbert Gottfired

Think about it, that's more tech jobs building the chips, more work for Mr. Gottfired, and I fucking guarantee earplug sales will skyrocket.

But that's not enough.  No the FDA may be placated with these labels, but I sirs and madams haven't built a safe enough future yet.  Check it, every McDonalds wrapper and every bucket of KFC gets a picture of an obese bloated corpse with the caption "you're eating your arteries to death fatass."  Every bottle of Jagermeister gets a picture of David Hasselhoff eating off the floor that says "you and your whole frat are going to end up like this"  

Just like this Chett, just like this

Every Snickers gets a picture of some british teeth, and every Red Bull gets a blood pressure warning smack dab on the front of it.  Think I'm done? Think again motherfuckers, at birth every child gets a forehead tattoo that indicates they may or may not be a rapist!

We'll be the safest and thusly happiest society in the world, productivity will rise and illegal downloading will end all together (for some reason or another, just go with it.)

I don't have time to wait till 2012 though, so I'm off to Kinkos to print off some labels, see you motherfuckers later!

-Pretzel

The Ex Girlfriend Witching Hour

Dear cockmongers; how's it going?
I realize it's been a while and for that i make no apologies, I've been doing shit.  Belly button lint doesn't pick itself y'know?
I worked at The Ship tonight, and it was murderously slow.  The high/lowlight of my night was a ground of freshly 21 year olds ordering "well's whiskey and cokes" as if well's was a brand of liquor.  Oh that and they kept talking to me about Jersey Shore, tipped like shit, and then one of them had the nerve to ask if we were hiring.  A few terrible customers aside though, tonight was pretty fun.
So since I haven't updated in a while, I'm gonna share a funny story with y'all.
A while ago on the day in which daylight savings time kicks into effect I experienced what I'm going to refer to as the ex girlfriend witching hour.  What might that be you might ask, and might or mightn't you ask I might explain via this tale.  I was at home, laying in bed fucking around on Facebook, much as I am right now.  All of a sudden a girl I dated pretty seriously a long time ago started up a chat with me.  This was odd, as we weren't exactly on good terms, and hadn't spoken in a few years.  I won't lie to you gentle reader, it was a strange and awkward conversation.  She was clearly in a very lonely and vulnerable spot, but as kindhearted and loving as you all know me to be, I had a hard time being empathetic with this girl cuz hey, she did cut me pretty deep years back.
So in the midst of this out of the blue conversation that I'm having a hard time processing, another ex girlfriend calls me.  This lady hadn't spoken to me in roughly 6 months or so, but was drunk at the bar across the street from me and needed a ride home.  Being the great person that I am, I hop up and head over to the bar.  After a short car ride and some slurred thank yous I arrive back at the house.  Here's where shit gets fucking strange.
Hanging on the front door is the same black canvas Sailor Jerry purse that I bought for the first ex I mentioned.  She was as far as I know, a 2 hour drive away at the time, so I don't think it's a stalker in the bushes getting a chubby over my panicked expression type scenario.  It's fucking bizarre though right?  I mean, let's recap:  Exactly as the extra hour in daylight savings time kicks in, 2 of my exes start talking to me, and then a present I bought 3 or so years ago shows u on my door with no explanation (to this day) who put it there or why.  Bizareness though, am I right?
That's all I've got for you today my children.
Go huff some paint and beat up a CVS security guard
-Pretzel