Science Created the Universe

When it came to the creation of the Universe, God just wasn't necessary.

That's the conclusion renowned retard scientist Stephen Hawking has made in his latest, "The Grand Design," set to hit book sellers next week.

"It is not necessary to invoke God to light the blue touch paper and set the Universe going," Hawking wrote.

The Big Bang was a natural event which would have happened without the help or involvement of God, he argues.

"Because there is a law such as gravity, the Universe can and will create itself from nothing," Hawking writes.

Now, although my personal beliefs coincide with this logic, devout Christians need not be offended simply because you wouldn't believe in god either if you looked like this:

Money Can't Buy You Class (and apparently it won't make you happy either)

Let's not bullshit each other. You see those ads on the side of the screen? And at the top? And at the bottom? Go look at one of them. Someone just made $800, baby (well hopefully I will one day if this shitter of a blog ever gets more followers). Seriously, they're set up to detect the position of your eyeballs. Maybe some of you will actually click them enough to where i'll make enough to fill my SnoCone machine with Cristal.

Most of us get out of bed everyday purely because it edges us one step closer to some kind of financial future we want. If we won the lottery, most of us would show up to the office the next day wearing an ankle-length fur coat and enough bling to make Mr. T look Amish, and only stay just long enough to take a dump on our boss's desk plant.

So What's the Problem?

Hey, remember when you had that horrible dream that you were stuck in Nigeria? Well according to surveys, Nigerians are happier with their lives than the people of any other country (duh, they don't know any better).

Can your country fit three to a motorcycle? Didn't think so.

The USA ranked 16th in happiness.

Hey, did I mention that the average Nigerian makes $300 a year? That's less than a hundredth of what the average American makes. America being the country that hands out 120 million prescriptions for anti-depressants every year.

China is turning into a great object lesson in this, as their economy explodes and incomes skyrocket, but levels of happiness and personal satisfaction are dropping at the same rapid rate.

There's a couple of reasons for it. First, your brain adjusts feelings of happiness downward after you've reached some goal or other. It regulates the good feelings, presumably so that you have motivation to reach the next goal instead of just lounging by the pool for the rest of your days.

The second one is that as social creatures, we compare ourselves to our neighbors. This is why executives can cry about the $500,000 salary cap that comes with taking government bailout money. Their friends are making $3 million a year and live in igloos made out of cocaine. We can laugh at their complaints, but of course then you're giving the Nigerian permission to laugh at yours. That guy made 100 times more than you, you make 100 times more than the Nigerian.

Once you start hanging around the other high earners, you'll want all the stuff they have. No, that's not right--you'll want the stuff that's so much better than their stuff that they'll vomit with envy. 

"Yeah, same model as yours. Only covered in solid fucking gold."

But what about sudden wealth, like if you won the lottery, or sold your novel for $10 million? That'd be cool, right, because you'd still remember your former life and appreciate your new riches! Well, just ask that one guy, who wound up broken and bankrupt after he won $16 million in the lottery. It turns out that while he knew how to handle the stress of being poor thanks to a lifetime of experience, he had no concept of how to handle the new and alien stresses of wealth. Sucks- I need to stop watching those "How the Lottery Changed My Life" specials.

Wait, it Gets Worse...

You know the whole Invasion of the Body Snatchers phenomenon with famous people, where suddenly all of your friends turn into leeches? Same here, only worse. With your newfound riches, suddenly "friends" pop up from all over. Cousins who you've never met, forgotten classmates from school, men/women who'd never even look your way before, all suddenly in your orbit, complimenting you, doing you favors. Then they casually slip it into conversation that they're going to have to default on their mortgage unless somebody helps out.

Your very own entourage!

Suddenly every relationship is in doubt. Do they actually care about you? Or do they just want a seat on the Bling Train? Would they sell you out to get to your cash?

That lottery winner I mentioned above . . . somebody hired a hitman to take him out, to get to his money. That somebody was his own fucking brother.

So What Have I Learned?

I've learned that I still got fucked with my raise this year, and I better get a salary increase soon. I've also realized that I wish there was a gas station closer to my place so I could walk to buy lotto tickets.

P.S. I've never trusted my brother anyways.

National Slut Day

Wednesday is September. After September is October. And we all know what comes in October... national slut day, of course!
Perhaps it's to do with my lack of a rail thin figure with huge tits, but sometimes I dread showing up to a party where girls come up with every excuse they can to have their labia hanging out. 


White panties and white bra with wings = I'm an angel!
Black panties and black bra with wings = I'm a hell's angel!
Red Panties and red bra with tail = I'm the devil!
Brown Panties and brown bra with toolbelt = I'm a construction worker!
Blue panties and blue bra with a hat = I'm a sailor!
Yellow panties and yellow bra = I'm a piece of popcorn!


Get the idea? 
And it's not like I can blame these gals- if I had a killer bod I'd absolutely just go naked and say "I'm a cavewoman!"....but that is simply not the case. Despite my several years of trying to be a sexy lion, boxer, Tom Cruise in Risky Business (a night of drinking everclear while only wearing a shirt and men's underwear can be pretty horrendous-- summersaults in a bar, anyone?), and whatever the hell else my group of friends and I decided on, it only ended in an absolute hot mess. Ripped panty hose, uncomfortable wedgies, burning my clothes in bonfires, pictures with my left boob hanging out, etc. all lead to no good. 


I think I might take a different route this year. The frontrunner? Take a look at this beauty:

I'll spare you the theme song, but I will absolutely be doing the dance all night. 

Guess I should start practicing!

Other options that I am seriously considering include:

You look like you like mustard...did I mention I was a vegetarian?

Byyyeeee Buddy!

You're drrrrrrrrruuunnkkkk!

Not sure I could master the accent. Especially after a few beers.

Cruella De-Vil. Amazing.

Any sexy single men out there that want to take a Jabba the Hutt home?

I'm pretty overwhelmed by the plethora of amazing options...

Want a Raise? Wash Your Vagina.

So, ladies, you say you want a raise? How should you go about getting it?

First, you have to figure out how to compete with the guy in the next cubicle. After all, he went to a school almost as good as yours. His grades were nearly as good as yours, too. He works hard. In fact, most mornings, he's the second person in the office. You know this, because you're always first. He is young, ruggedly good looking, and he washes his balls with a manly but fresh sandalwood soap.

What to do?

Fortunately, the good folks at Women's Day and Summer's Eve have a few words of advice for you.

(No, this is not from the Onion. It is really from a full page ad in Women's Day)

What is the very first thing you should consider if you want a raise? What is the most important thing of all?

Yup, wash that vagina, and wash it good. Remember the sandalwood-scented balls. You don't want any, ahem, untoward odors to interfere with your chances, do you? What's that you say? You don't have an odor problem? You're clean, you bathe regularly, and you don't really need advice to use a product that "cleanses away odor-causing bacteria from the external vaginal area?" What are you, a barbarian? This is a raise you're talking about.

That was #1 on the "how to get a raise" list. What was last, least important? Well, after the "wash your vagina" advice, it must be something truly inconsequential, perhaps related to toenail hygeine with closed-toe shoes, right? Let's look:

Accomplishments? Who cares? You're a woman. Nobody wants to know about your accomplishments. No, what really matters is a great fresh cut flower smell from you-know-where.

Oh, and don't forget the penultimate piece of advice:

Yeah, don't let it get personal. Let the boss sniff your panties, just don't let it get personal.

On the other hand, if you think this is one of the most outrageous and insulting advertisements you've ever seen, feel free to tell the people at Woman's Day. You can also call them at (212) 767-6000.

And don't forget the Summer's Eve people. Their toll-free number is 866-787-6383, and the website is HERE.