The Freehold Unexplained Circumstance Knowledge Society investigates paranormal activity in the greater Freehold, NJ area. This webseries chronicles their most extreme lockdowns. This time, the guys to to the Guttenberg Storage Facility to see if they can capture the apparitions seen by the night janitor.

I don’t know about you guys, but for me, July 23, and July 24, 2011 will go down as the weekend of the inevitable. A lot happened, but none of which came as a shock to me, or anyone else in the world. Let’s relive the events of this boring weekend, one news headline at a time:

Singer Amy Winehouse Dies at 27 (Source: Yahoo! Music)

Look, no body WANTED her to go, but let’s face it, when your hit song is about refusing to go to rehab despite the best efforts of the people around you, chances are, you’re headed in the wrong direction. There is a difference between a singer who does crack, and a crackhead who sings, and we all know which category Ms. Winehouse fell into. So, let’s not pretend this was a Heath Ledger moment, because it wasn’t. In fact, the only person who would have been more of a no-brainer to kick the bucket would have been Lindsay Lohan…but there’s always next week.

Same Sex Marriage is Now Officially Legal  in New York State (Source: Village Voice)

Oh yeah? You mean that city that has been a safe-haven for gays since the 70s would ultimately allow gay marriage? You’re shitting me. They were so quiet about it. It’s not like they stripped down to their thongs, donned rainbow-colored mohawks and rode penis-shaped floats in a massive precession down Manhattan every fucking year….oh wait, THEY DID. This isn’t that shocking, call me when it’s legal for a hooker to suck me off in Central Park and we’ll have something to celebrate.

Dolly Parton Rocks the Hollywood Bowl (Source: Gather.com)

The woman is older than fuck, has the greatest set of tits in the world, and can sing a damn tune. Obviously she’s gonna give an outstanding performance at the Hollywood bowl. Did she sell it out? Yes. Did she show the world that country and gospel music can make our feet tap and our soul sing? Ab-so-fucking-lutely. Did she responds to those tweets I sent her of my penis? No, but we knew that wouldn’t happen, in fact, if she did, maybe then this event wouldn’t have been so damn inevitable.

Suspicious Person Reported in the 1500 Block at 11:38pm in Jefferson Parish, LA (Source: Nola.com)

Come on people, it’s the 1500 block of Jefferson Parish…it’s the weekend…it’s after 11:35 PM. There’s bound to be a few less-than-amicable persons wandering around. Tell that sheriff to go fuck himself.

Dumb Bitch Is a No-Show at TGI Friday’s (Source: Match.com)

You exchange three amazing emails, you set a place and a time, and not only does she not respond to your date request, but she doesn’t even show up to the fucking date. I would be more pissed if I didn’t see this coming. This must happen to me at least once a week. Why are women so fickle. If I see her on the street I’m gonna just throw homeless semen in her face. Don’t ask how I got the semen, but just know…she had it coming. Pun in-fucking-tended.

Semen Tossed in Local Woman’s Face, Nebraska Man Arrested (Source: Lincoln Journal Star)

It was just last week our ship landed in this new continent…oh wait, that was the Mayflower, and that was 400 fucking years ago. This puritan society bullshit is getting on my nerves. It’s not like I hit her or called her fat. Why can’t a guy express his dissatisfaction with a woman with a little homeless semen in the  face? It gets the point across and doesn’t leave her with any bruises. I guess the gays can get married in New York, but a man can’t discipline a no-show date in the Midwest…can’t say I’m surprised.

I live in New York City. The greatest city in the world. Also, one of the most EXPENSIVE! Especially, for a struggling stand-up comic with a day job selling tennis rackets. I pay $1300 a month for my apartment and it’s a box slightly larger than my entire body. It’s so small my dick can be in 3 different rooms at the same time!

Wait. What am I talking about? I don’t even have 3 rooms! And on top of it – I got to pay gas, electric, cable…. I don’t get shit for $1300! The only thing I get is water. I get free water. And you better believe I take advantage of it!

I take 14 showers a day. I sleep in that shower. I let it run for 8 hours straight! I don’t care! Fuck you! And fuck your warming globe! I ought to get something out of this!

The maintenance comes in to fix something – I’m like, “You look a little warm. You look a little perspired. Do you want to use my shower?” I have my parents over – I tell them, “Get in there! Yeah sure, take one separate and one together. Have sex in the shower for all I care. Just as long as the water’s running!
And don’t be afraid to flush 3 times. I don’t care if you just peed. Pee again! Where do you think you’re going? Sit your ass back down on that toilet seat, Grandma!”

Now, that I’m living in New York, friends of mine back home in Pennsylvania – they all want to live vicariously through me. Like my one friend he emails me, “Man, you’re single, living in New York. Must be an exciting life?”

And I’m like, “Yeah, what can I say? It’s pretty glamorous” as I sip a Ramen noodle out of a plastic cup, wearing my least dirty clothing, underwear I washed in the sink, staring at a blank TV screen, surrounded by a bunch of candles because the paying of one more excessive electric bill is going to force me to move into Battery Park! And I’m like, “Yep. I’m really living the dream here. Yeah, later I’m going to walk over to the East River and fill up my water bottle.”

Another of my comedian friends, he calls me up and he’s like, “Man, you’re doing comedy in New York City – it must be awesome!” And I’m like, “Yeah, it’s pretty awesome. Last night, that audience of 2 non-speaking immigrants were dually impressed that I even showed up. It’s pretty awesome!”

At this point, I’m living vicariously through the homeless guy down the street. The other night we ate rat on a stick. It was pretty yummy!

I was actually thinking about becoming a terrorist. I’m pretty sure it pays better than my current job. Not to mention, they’re not in an office all day, they get to spend a lot of time outside… Plus, I hear there’s actually openings available.

I like when you go to one of these eateries in New York and you order something and the guy behind the counter gives you that disappointed look because apparently you didn’t order enough. It’s like, “Hey, listen asshole! There’s 27,000 other pizza places in this city! You should be HAPPY I chose yours to order 5 napkins and a tap water at! Now, are you going to give me that key to the bathroom or what?”

The more I do stand-up comedy, the more I find myself practicing what I would say if and when I go homeless. I think I’d just stick to honesty. I’d probably just put a sign up: BECAME A FULL-TIME COMIC. STUPID.

In honor of Woody Allen’s latest film, Midnight in Paris, which deals with the problems of living in a “Golden age,” and the downside of being nostalgic, I’ve decided to highlight a period in time that some people I know are not only yearning to relive…but are actually still stuck there….

10. You Still Jerk Off to Pamela Anderson
Come on guys, fake tits are so 1995. Plus she’s pushing 50 now isn’t she? I wonder how that barb wire tattoo looks like after 20 years of sun damage and wrinkles.

9. You Actually Buy Porn
Back in the 90s you had to go into an “adult” store and sift through piles of porno next to guys who resembled Charles Manson and you prayed that some insane gunman didn’t shoot up the place. Not because you would die, but because you didn’t want your grandma knowing that you were in a sleazy porno shop! For God’s sake, take advantage of internet anonymity!

8. You Wear Long-Sleeved Flannel Shirts
This looked died with Kurt. For everyone that is less than 30 years old, I’m referring to the band that Dave Groul was in before Foo Fighters. If you don’t know who Foo Fighters is, then maybe you’re not old enough to be looking at the SAW website?

7. You Have a Bowl Cut and Hair Parted in the Middle
I always hated this look. Maybe it was because my hair would become puffy when I tried to grow it out and now I’m naturally prejudiced to this look? Sorry, but looking like you have an ass on top of your head just isn’t cool anymore.

6. You’re still hung up on the east coast west coast rap beef
I’ll admit it, as a hip-hop fan, I still reminisce about what I refer to as the “golden age of rap”. It was before auto tune and before Jay-Z killed auto tune. It’s when white kids like me who were pussies would live vicariously through “gangsta” rappers who were more than likely pussies themselves, but they really acted tough.

5. You Still Use the Term “Surfing the Net”
My Mom doesn’t even use this term anymore. Try to conform a little bit and stop using this dated phrase.

4. You Still Own a Beeper
There is absolutely no excuse for this. With the abundance a cheap, much more convenient methods of communication in this day and age, why would you insist on using a beeper? I know that in 1991 when someone showed you how to spell words when you paged your pimple faced boyfriend/girlfriend, you thought that this was the height of modern technology. Guess what, you were wrong! You can text people in real time and you’re not limited to numbers!

3. You still say “Whasaaaaaaap!!!”
When you answer your best friend’s phone call-I’m going to say it so your friend doesn’t want to say it to you and hurt your feelings. It’s not funny now, in fact it was never fucking funny you retard! People who found “Whasaaaaap” funny were the same people who laughed at that Baby Dinosaur on that shitty TV show. They are the same people who didn’t “get” Seinfeld, but thought ALF was fucking hilarious.

2. You Still Think Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise is Hot (if you’re a woman or a gay dude)
I’m no homo so I choose not to explain this one in detail. It’s pretty self explanatory. There are plenty of younger hot guys in Hollywood.

1. You’re Still Pissed at Judge Lance Ito
In 94’ when the not-guilty verdict was announced, I was pissed! The whole trial was a spectacle and it showed many flaws in our justice system. But guess what? I’m not sure if you heard, but OJ is in jail for robbery. So it’s OK to let it go. He’s probably getting a hair brush up his ass as I type.

I’m a dating aficionado; there’s no girl in the world I don’t know how to seduce. I get into the hottest clubs with the hottest chicks and leave with every single one of them at the same time. I literally have one billion girls’ phone numbers in my iPhone. And that’s just from this past weekend.

Now I may be a player, but I’m certainly not selfish with the ladies. Today I’ve decided to share my own personal dating tips so you, too, can score as much as I do.

I’ve only shared these tips once before with a friend. You may have heard of him: Anthony Weiner. Yea, THAT Anthony Weiner. Before me, Weiner couldn’t get a girl to save his life, and now look at him; he has the most famous junk in the world. And he has me to thank.

So now, for the first time ever, I’m sharing the tips that made Weiner a winner with the public. You’re welcome, guys. And you’re ever more welcome, ladies. Wink emoticon.

Creepy Dick’s Dating Tips

1. Don’t open the door for your date. And at dinner, ask her to pay half. Girls love being treated as equals.
2. Suggest going to a hot tub together within the first 15 minutes of the date.
3. When ordering at a restaurant, criticize everything on the menu and take at least 45 minutes to decide. Then order for her. This shows confidence and sophistication.
4. Eye contact is important. Stare at her constantly. She’ll be flattered that you’re so attracted to her.
5. You know how it would turn you on if your date told you she wasn’t wearing any underwear? Girls are the same. Go commando and make sure you tell her about it when the moment is right.
6. When you return from the bathroom, tell her exactly why you went and what for. She’ll appreciate how open you are.
7. Girls want to feel special, so make sure you know everything about her. Her likes, dislikes, what she had for lunch on Saturday, where she was yesterday at 12:15pm, when her cat last had its shots, names of past boyfriends, etc. Remembering unexpected details will earn you huge points.
8. Tell her how hot your ex girlfriend was. It will make her compete to live up to your expectations. If your ex wasn’t actually hot, lie. Girls can’t tell when you’re lying.
9. Women, through evolution, are genetically attracted to men who can wriggle out of dangerous situations. So if someone confronts you or insults your date, apologize profusely and do whatever the assailant asks to keep them from hitting you.
10. No matter how the date goes, go in for the kiss. Do it open mouthed or she may think it’s a “friend” kiss.
11. If a girl ends your date early and stops returning your phone calls, this means she is extremely attracted to you and is playing hard to get. Girls are funny like that. Don’t let up.
12. Mark your territory. “Like” every single photo she posts on Facebook. Other guys will see this and know she’s taken
13. Find out where she lives and “just happen to be in the “neighborhood” as often as possible.
14. Does she have a pet? Kidnap it, wait a few days, then return it and tell her you found it wandering the streets. She’ll be overcome with gratitude.
15. When in doubt, send a pic of your junk.

Best,

- Creepy Dick

Living a few blocks off of South Street in Philadelphia, there are certain things I see on a repeated basis that get me thinking. For those of you not familiar with South Street, it’s a Bohemian, “alternative” stretch on the southern border of Center City Philly lined with bars, music stores, sex shops, glassware establishments, and so forth.

As you may surmise, it is frequented largely by a youth-tinged crowd, although tourists and other city folk do form a decent presence. But it is those of a younger age that have put me in a mental grapple with an issue that I hoped wouldn’t pervade my psyche until a much later time. It’s simple, really: I’m an old guy.

That’s right. I’m old. Now age is, of course, very relative. In actuality, I’m not really old by “traditional” standards. The fact that I am 28 may lead those of a more experienced generation to scoff at my notion of fogeyness, but to me it isn’t necessarily the actual number of years lived that makes someone an elder.

Rather, it’s feelings of disconnectedness and confusion when it comes to the younger crowd that make me feel as though I’m no longer part of today’s “in” culture. At no point did I make a conscious decision to become this way, but a quick scan of popular radio stations, well-liked TV shows, and current pop icons has let me know that I am, in fact, an old guy.

The biggest gap I feel between myself and today’s youth is most definitely in the field of fashion. Granted, I was never one to be on the cutting edge, so it’s not as though I went from “style maven” to “out of touch.” I made token attempts to fit in and look cool when I was in high school and college, but quickly came to realize that the most important things to me were feeling comfortable and looking socially acceptable.

Observing the youth of today, comfort and social acceptance appear so far off their radar that it boggles my mind, and my feelings on this matter are the main signals to me that I am much more octogenarian than adolescent. To my point:

-Skinny jeans As I write this, a parade of cigarette-smoking, monstrous-sneaker-wearing scarecrows files through the streets around me. From what I’ve come to understand, the tight pants/baggy pants thing runs in 10-15 year cycles. Tight pants were popular in the 80’s, then super baggy became the deal in the 90’s, and things have trended back towards startling snugness in the past few years. As a child of the Whitewater decade, I’ll be the first to say that the popularity of oversized, baggy jeans was pretty preposterous, but kids today have let the pendulum swing back way too far to the cozy camp.

Again, never has anyone accused me of being a fashionista, but as a human being with external genitalia, I can say without a doubt that skinny jeans are a bad idea. Anyone who argues that they are comfortable are either lying in a bold-faced manner or have no regard for their nether bits. I’d rather be put in a wheelchair and parked out to pasture before trying to lube up and slip on a pair of those skeletal denim britches.

I mean, sometimes those things look painted on; they even look harshly unyielding to those who have internal junk, known popularly as “females.” Being prematurely cranky as I am, I can definitely say that anything that requires that much of an effort just to wear is, without a doubt, a waste of time. Dadgummit.

-Piercings I know piercings can be indicative of several generations and were not invented by today’s youth, but some of the places that I’ve seen metal inserted into the bodies of kids today make me shudder. I’ve seen little barbells and hoops through middles of backs, foreheads, cheeks (top and bottom), arms, hands, chests, you name it.

Granted, I have also seen some of these piercings on/in people older than myself, but I give those folks credit for being “younger” than me, at least in the cultural point-of-view sense on which I am focusing. Here, you may mentally insert an image of me walking out of Super Fresh holding bags of groceries and pet food, staring at a group of heavily-pierced teens that walks by and thinking, “Hmm, I just don’t get it.”

-Tattoos Actually, I think lots of tattoos look pretty cool, and I admire anyone who has the grapenuts to go through with getting them done. However, please indulge me in this reactionary-style rant: Stop telling me that you got your tattoo because it symbolizes something important to you, because if that thing is so special, you don’t need ink on your body to remind you of how important it is. People get tattoos for one reason: because they want people to see them and think they’re cool, plain and simple.

We’ve all heard it a million times before: “I got this Chinese symbol on my chest because it represents my daughter.” You know what else represents your daughter? Your daughter! “I have a lizard tattooed on my neck because it reminds me of my time living in Florida.” So let me get this straight: just because you lived somewhere with a warm climate, I have to stare at your gross tattoo while I’m trying to order a falafel? If your dad’s birthday is so important, why do you need it tattooed on your leg to remind you when it is?

What could a snuggly-wuggly teddy bear on your back possibly represent that’s anything deeper than just wanting a snuggly-wuggly teddy bear on your back? Just admit you got the tattoo because you think it makes you look cool, and be done with it. (Side note: I understand that some folks get tattoos on places that cannot be seen by the viewing public, but that just means they had to flash their naughties to a complete stranger to get it done. Getting on as I am, I find this idea to be rather startling and unsettling)

Of course, to say that intense jealousy doesn’t factor into my feelings would most definitely be a lie, but I really can’t help the way I feel. There’s no doubt I envy the fact that the generation about whom I’m writing doesn’t have to deal with insurance premiums or be called “sir” at a car wash. Of course I resent the fact that these youngins can plod along, looking and acting silly as they do, and still be happy and immune to the harsh realities of life.

To keep my disdain from boiling over, I must constantly remind myself that being young and blissfully ignorant doesn’t necessarily equal happiness, and that going through one’s formative years can be just as stressful, painful, and riddled with discomfort as living an adult life can be. So I try to cut them some slack, and stay aware of the fact that they’re just trying to figure things out, much like I was trying to do not very long ago, and continue to do to this day.

I just think they would be much happier if their cargo wasn’t all squished up in such taut slacks.

I work in a sporting goods store in New York City selling tennis rackets and other various tennis accessories and paraphernalia. Yes, I’m living the dream. I know. Now, just go tell my Mom.

I would like to think whoever coined that phrase: “the customer is always right” never actually worked in retail. Because these are just some of the questions I deal with on a daily basis:

Q: Do you work here?

A: No, I just like to stand here for 8 hours straight as a hobby. Some people like to go fishing; I like to stand in sporting goods stores, misdirecting customers, pretending I work here.

Q: What is your favorite type of ball?

A: The ones attached to me, ma’am.

Q: Do I have to wear underwear with these shorts?

A: Only if you’re trying them on, sir. Just what type of sport are you playing? As a general rule, if you have to ask a stranger in the middle of the tennis area if you need to wear underwear then damn it, yes! Wear underwear! When is the answer to this question ever not yes?

Q: Do you have any clothing for ping pong?

A: No. And I don’t have any clothing for chess, either! But, we are having some really great sales on nude volleyball apparel.

Q: Are you a tennis expert?

A: No, I’m really an expert in women’s long jump. Unfortunately, that section of the store is being renovated. Are you really a jackass or is that just a hobby for you?

Q: Do you prefer Wilson or Head?

A: Come on, really?

Every once in awhile a customer will come in, stare up at our wall, and be like, “Is this all the rackets you have?” Here’s the thing: we probably have the largest selection of tennis equipment in New York City, if not the world. How many rackets do you exactly need to see before you choose one???

“Hey McEnroe, what are you looking for – the Ultra Turbo 3000? Well, that ain’t out yet. In fact, the Ultra Turbo 2000 ain’t out yet! I’m sorry if our 500 rackets isn’t enough for you. Then, you aren’t going to like our selection of 3,000 tennis grips! And you probably won’t like the 45,000 different pairs of tennis socks we have to choose from!”

One day a guy picks up two different pairs of socks and is like, “What’s the difference? What’s the difference between these socks?” I just started messing with him:

“Well, sir, this pair here is virgin wool and the other’s non-virgin wool. They feel essentially the same but notice the difference in stitching. Now, we just reduced the price of the virgin wool and upped the price of the non-virgin wool so they’re virtually the same. Oh, and these socks over here are just for left feet. They’re our left foot strong socks. Now, if you’re both feet strong, I would recommend you get at least four pairs because you’ll wear them out quicker.”

Sometimes customers come up to me and apologize for no reason. They’ll be like, “Sorry, um, do you know where I can find running shoes?”

“No, I don’t. But, I accept your apology.”

You ever heard that expression “the customer always comes first?” Well, this is true. Unless, of course, I’m engaged in conversation or I’m checking my phone or I’m staring at a beautiful blonde’s ass or I’m massaging myself through my pocket or I’m massaging myself through my pocket while staring at a beautiful blonde’s ass. But, other than that – the customer always comes first. Or second.

Other people will come in, look our squash rackets up and down, and be like, “Which one’s better? Which squash racket is better?”

I’ll be like, “Well what type of squash are you doing? Are you doing low-hand squash? Are you doing high-hand squash? Are you doing inside squash? You doing outside squash? Are you doing back and forth squash? Are you doing twists? Are you doing turns? Are you making a squash casserole? Have you ever tried to grow squash? Have you ever eaten squash? Because these are things we need to know!”

The amazing thing is these people think I know what I’m talking about. I’ve never played squash. I’ve never eaten squash.

Sometimes a real pain in the ass customer will come into the store and be like, “I’m not going to buy anything today but do you have this, this, and this…”

That’s like saying, “I’m not going to smoke but do you have a cigarette.” Or, “I’m not going to drive today but could you tell me how to get to New Jersey without taking any toll roads?”

I like to reply to this nonsense with some nonsense of my own:

“Yeah, you’re not going to buy anything today? Well, that’s all right. I’m not allowed to sell you anything today. Now, should you come to buy something then I’m allowed to sell you something. But, since I can’t sell you anything I can’t answer any questions. However, if you don’t ask any questions, I can answer those.”

Is it okay to be an asshole?

Sometimes life just plain fucks you up the ass, no questions asked.

We at Superawesomewow especially know what it means to be raped by destiny; after all it’s us writing articles for this Godforsaken comedy site.

I’m obviously having one of my moments. That’s why I’m not writing my usual bullshit COMIC BOOK MOVIES series this month; I’m way too busy planning my early departure. How cool would it be to be found in your bedroom with a rigor mortis erection, your pants smeared with liquid faeces while you’re hanging by the neck? All your relatives attending your funeral moaning: “Why, he was so pretty!” or “Rest in peace dear… whasis name again?”

Don’t worry, I’m actually way too fond of myself to ever seriously consider suicide. I’d rather make everybody else’s life a misery instead. That’s why I’m actively planning on becoming an asshole, not forever, but long enough to probably live a decent life given most of the people around seem to be assholes. I see it more as a kind of integration process, you know, becoming an asshole for a higher cause and so on…

I’ll become an asshole of biblical proportions. I’ll be the guy at the fast food joint jerking in your tacos and wiping my ass with your hamburger. I’ll be the clerk whose busy talking to my brain dead asshole friends on the phone while you’re trying to actually buy something important. I’ll be the fashionably dressed young asshole yelling obscene nonsense at innocent women after only two beers, trying to get laid although I look as if I’m gay. I’ll be the guy in the suit who occupies two seats in the subway with an old lady is standing right in front of me, desperate for a seat, while I’m talking to my invisible cell-phone through a pair of head phones pretending I’m so fucking smart. I’ll be the sell-out celebrity asshole hardly anyone ever heard of who bitches around at every possible cocaine party, dreaming I one day will be the next slut on Wisteria Lane. I’ll be the pimple faced shit-for-brains teenager whose dead busy uploading porn to his fancy new smart phone, secretly wondering why he too can’t get a girlfriend who looks like a top model. I should start pumping iron, take steroids, shave my head bald and tattoo some meaningless tribal motifs on my violently tanned skin. That would be a real asshole look.

Is it okay to be an asshole after all? I guess not, but fortunately we don’t live in society ruled by reason.

See you in hell, losers!

SuperAwesomeWow’s scientific research team spent countless minutes on Google finding facts about human sexuality, and the results will astound you. We discovered that the average man thinks about sex every seven seconds, actively pursues it every three days, and only succeeds 5% of the time. This means that every guy out there thinks about sex 4.5 million times a year and gets rejected by at least 115 women.

Posing as a government funded agency, we decided to conduct a focus group and asked as many men (and ugly women) as we could find to share their rejection stories with us. We than laughed in their face, ripped up our confidentiality agreement, ranked their sob stories, and posted them below for your pleasure.

• Because using the metric system only makes your dick SOUND bigger.
• Because you put your pubes in pig tails.
• Because I can not pronounce your safe word.
• Because you said this was a legitimate audition.
• Hold on, let me find you a mirror.
• Because I charge by the hour, not the second.
• Because grown men shouldn’t wear Batman underoos to bed.
• Sir, please stop calling 1-800 Mattres, we leave off the last S for Savings, not Sodomy.
• I’d rather be playing wordswithfriends.
• Sir, I’m here trying to sell girl scout cookies.
• Because your penis-to-gut ratio is rather inhibitive.
• Because you’re holding a videocamera.
• Because mommy said I’m not allowed to talk to strangers
• Because you keep calling it “fun-fun time”
• Because I saw you poking holes in my condoms.
• I may be blind, but I can still smell, you filthy bastard.
• Because I only blow guys on the first date.
• Because you don’t go to the gym, don’t tan and your mother does your laundry.
• Because I just had labia reduction surgery.
• Because you are wearing a ‘Big Dogs’ t-shirt.
• Because you’re a DJ at a Gentlemens club.
• Because you use the word ‘hater’ like a 12 year old girl from 1997.
• Because you have a blonde mustache.
• Because you’re 38 and still go to parties with kegs.
• Because as you can see, I’m breast feeding right now.
• Because I don’t get paid til Friday.
• Because your vagina smells like cat litter.
• Because I have the power of free will.
• Because my diaper is soiled.
• Because you named your pubic lice.
• Because double the testicles does not equal double the fun.
• Because you raped my sister.
• Because we’re at a children’s zoo.
• Because I can see your herpes crawling up your stomach past your waistline.
• Because there are starving people in Africa… and even one of them would be more attractive than you.
• Because your dick is just too big… Hah! I’m just kidding. Get the fuck away from me, weirdo.
• Because daddy has been paying more attention to me & you’re going to be late for the school bus.
• Because it will probably make your father angry, but thanks for the offer. It’s a great Mother’s Day idea.
• Because colostomy bags are not “kinky.”
• Because your penis reminds me of my grandfather.
• Because you’re my priest.
• Because you’re using saran wrap and a rubber band instead of a condom.
• Because I’m gay. Oh you’re a man? Then just no.
• Because it’s that time of the month when I don’t want to have sex with you.
• Because you’re covered in gravy.
• Because your abs are drawn on.
• Because you’re currently having sex with your girlfriend.
• Because your third nipple is winking at me.
• Because your chest hair has a mullet.
• Because my pimp won’t except a SuperAwesomeWow writing credit as payment.

Pakistan – Members of the “9/11 Terrorist 10-Year Reunion” committee were shocked today when they learned that their chairman, Osama Bin Laden, was killed in a tragic accident at his home in Abbottabad, Pakistan, months before their much anticipated reunion. The event will be postponed, and possibly cancelled all together.

The committee was left reeling as they scrambled to pick up the planning where Bin Laden had left off: figuring out what venue he had decided on, what supplies he had already ordered, whether he was thinking black-tie or casual, and in general, struggling to stay optimistic.

“It’s a definite shock,” said al Qaeda terrorist and committee co-chair Aabanali Hadiyatullah. “Not only will this put a damper on the whole party, but ol’ Binny was in charge of basically everything, from the catering to ordering chairs, and he never wrote anything down. We’ll definitely lose our deposit on the venue, and we already sent out the invites, for Allah’s sake. This is such a mess.”

According to official reports, Bin Laden, described by neighbors as being a nice, quiet, fellow who kept to himself mostly, was enjoying some Sunday evening downtime when US Navy SEAL’s broke into his home without warning and shot him in the face.

“I admit, this will put a huge damper on our ten-year reunion,” said terrorist Aalee “Killer of Infidels” bin Roohul Qudus, “But I think it’s a mistake to cancel. We should still do it. It’s what he would have wanted. He’ll be watching the party from heaven with his 72 virgins now, Allah bless him.”

When asked for comment, Allah, also know as God, Supreme Creator, and “The Big Guy,” mentioned that he had indeed brought Bin Laden to heaven, but only to let the people he killed on 9/11 kick his ass before sending him to hell.

As of press time, the committee was gathered at their headquarters still trying to figure out what to do while a fleet of US Boeing F-15SE Silent Eagles were in route to their location with a butt-load of missiles.