Birthday
It's Charles "Mutha Fuckin'" Dickens's Birthday Yo!
Happy goddamn 200th birthday Charles D., you ornery quill pen scribblin’ literary pimp. You’re lookin’ pretty good for being a couple Benjamins old, what’s your secret? Bikram yoga? Damn, that’s pretty badass Chuck. You don’t mind if I call you Chuck do ya? I tried that hot yoga shit once and damn near pulled my hammy while runnin’ everyone out of the room with my night before drinking and Del Taco gas, shit, I was blowin’ the tile off the walls that day. Luckily it was a free class, but hells no, I ain’t goin’ back to that sweaty ass shit ever again, so props to you grampa, keep it up.
Ok LISTEN UP EVERYONE!! It’s C-Dick’s birthday bitches, so raise yo 40 in the air and let’s toast to the great great great grandfather of the written word, before typewriters and before computers, and in his own words … “There is nothing so strong or safe in an emergency of life as the simple truth”, well, don’t tell that shit to my Uncle JoJo in cell block 6, and don’t forget to pour some out for your homeys. Happy Birthday C !!
And Ode To The Slurpee
My dearest Slurpee, you’ve been my friend for many, many years
And on this day, when Slurpees are free, I am always brought to tears
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I drive around to dozens of 7-11’s today all within my town
Getting my fix of sugar and artificial color which makes my face look like a clown
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When I was a child, the choices were easy when you only came in the flavors of red and blue
But now I see that you’re Fanta, Pepsi, Twizzler, and even Mountain Dew
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So much variety, so much fun, I think that I’m going insane
I’m twitching and shaking from all this icy goodness that’s slowly freezing my brain
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I normally only choose one flavor when I decide to take the Slurpee ride
But today is different, I’m going nuts and making a “suicide”
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So thank you 7-11 for your convenience and this cup full of legal crack
And Happy Birthday to the store that always keeps us coming back
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Happy Birthday iPhone, You Skinny Bitch
Wow, I can’t believe that it’s been four whole years since we started dating. It only seems like yesterday when your camera only had 2 megapixels and you still had your cute baby fat which I was really attracted to. You were such a simpler girlfriend back then, so much nicer, you used to be so attentive to my needs, God I miss those days. Over the years you’ve changed. You started working out, tanning, getting your hair colored and even started yoga even though you said you hated it. You’ve started dressing different now that you’re so svelte and it seems you hardly even notice me anymore since you’ve become so “Hollywood”. I’ve just become “that guy who carries me around”, and that really hurts because I have a name damnit.
I remember when you used to weigh 135 grams. Yes I said it, I know you don’t want anyone to know how big you used to be, but since our relationship is going downhill, I’m going to air out all of our dirty laundry right here, right now! I used to lovingly lug you around in my pocket, and trust me it wasn’t easy back then, but sacrifice is how relationships work. I loved you, and you loved me and nothing else mattered. But now you have competition with that new sexy Android slut, and even though I would never look at her in a lustful way, your jealousy is getting the best of you. I understand if you’re looking for a way out of what we have, but let me tell you, you’re making a huge mistake. She’s sexy yes, but you are my true love! True, I may have held her a couple of times and commented on her gigantic screen, but none of that matters. You’re way hotter than her. I don’t care if you enlarged your screens, got lasik surgery for better sight, increased your knowledge with those fancy French and pottery classes you’ve been taking. I don’t care that you’ve lost 3.5 mm from your waist, I used to adore those cute love handles. Remember how I would grab on to those babies? Smacking that ass, your loud ringtones going off, and how hot your battery charger used to get when I was all up in … sorry … I’m losing focus, but you know what I mean.
I hope this letter reaches you well, and I really do hope that you’ve found your true happiness out there wherever it may be. But just know that there’s a guy out there that still really cares about you regardless of what you look like, because he knows the real you and I don’t even care that you’ve gained 2 grams over the years. A guy who will always be there for you if you ever choose to return, and still smiles when he thinks about the fun times we used to have in the car with Shazam.
Happy Birthday
Happy Birthday Twitter, You Bedwetter
- We didn’t get you a present
Hey everyone, want to hear something that nobody cares about? Twitter just turned 5 years old. Big F’ing deal, so did my dog and he still scrapes his ass on the floor. Five! You can’t even really color within the lines yet Twitter, or eat without spillin’ shit all over your shirt, or even wipe your ass by yourself yet. Whoopeee!! Twitter is 5!! Let’s all have a big social media party with a creepy ass clown so Twitter will run to mommy and cry.
Five! You go around acting all badass making other people feel important when they have a shitload of followers, big whippity doo! YOU’RE ONLY 5! You don’t even know what all that means yet. This is kind of like your really poorly done refrigerator art, and your parents are telling you how amazing it is patting you on your sweaty little Twitter head and magnet’ing it where everybody HAS to look at it! Five! You still wear Pull-Ups to bed and have a nightlight, but we’re all supposed to bow down to your uberness, your power, your Charlie Sheen record setting whatever that media handjob thing was; and what is it you really do? ANSWER THAT TWITTER! WHAT DO YOU DO? You sit there and you make people “popular” and feel special. Well you know what? The people who were already popular, are just more popular and those of us who were never popular, still aren’t. Thanks for that! And how the hell am I supposed to use you? And how did you like my overuse of the word “popular”? Oh you wouldn’t understand that because you’re FIVE!
Hey, let me “tweet” something. Yay! Well that was fun! Where in the hell did THAT go? Who got it? WTF?? And this hashtag bullshit? It’s like tic-tac-toe before a word and all of a sudden it’s that much more important? And if freakin’ Sheen puts one in front of anything it becomes the God damn word of … well … God. And now I’ve mentioned his name twice in this damn article even though he deliberately cut me from his internship. I’m not bitter, I already talked to him about it here. Five! You can’t even sit in the front seat yet, but you’re telling us who we need to follow and how amazing they are and even set up a NEW website that pimps out the chosen people even more, well fuck, why don’t you make a shitty website and pimp us nobody’s out? Huh? No! I guess we’ll just have to work our asses off and do all of that shit ourselves. GREAT! When do WE get to be cool? Never! That’s when! You just sit back there in your car-seat with your sippy-cup and act like a Prima Donna. FIVE! You still take naps, and suck your thumb and let all these people praise you, well not us! No sir! We will never promote you AT ALL! EVER! We won’t hyperlink anything back to you to show how much everybody needs you. FIVE! And you know what? Just for being the little runny nose prick that you are, I’m not gonna pick you up from daycare today!
FIVE THAT TWITTER!!
