What Grinds my Gears? Mini 'That Guy/Girl'

You know what im talking about. The gaggles of pre-pubescent high rollers that thug about the local mall, theme park, or malt shop. Now i remember what it was like to be that age and how important being 'cool' and 'grown up' seemed, but folks, this is getting out of hand.Take the young ladies for example. Why are11 and 12 year olds walking around dressed like theyre on their way to dry hump tool bags at the Cell Block? This is creepy, annoying, and wrong on so many levels.

And i hate to be 'this guy', but here it goes: Parents. Come on! Im all for letting kids 'establish their own boundaries, make their own mistakes and live their own lives,' but there is a clear and distint line here people. In case you dont know where that line is, its where yer 11 year old daughter leaves the house wearring a mid riff bearring tank top with a playboy bunny on it. In case you still arent following me, do this. Log onto the internet. Go to yer favorite search engine, and do some research on exactly what it means to "superman" and/or "supersoak" a ho. After youve recovered from the initial shock, ponder the fact that not only does yer preteen daughter and her friends know all the lyrics and the accompanying dance to the Soulja Boy song, but she also has it set as her custom ring tone for that nice boy Bobby down the street shes been spending so much time with lately. Think about it....think about it....there it is! Now after youve rinsed the vomit from yer mouth and tears from yer eyes, regroup and formulate an effective plan for handling yer business.

Now as for the mini 'That Guy's', this is more annoying to me personally. Why? Because women are more mature then men. Most girls will eventually grow out of the wannabe Paris Hilton phase, but guys are different. If yer a tool at age 12, chance are ye'll be a tool at age 21, 35 and 47 as well.

So listen up DJ Backseat. We all know yer texting yer mom on that Boost Mobile cell phone to pick you and yer 'crew' up from the mall so you can make it to the 5:30 showing of Paul Blart: Mall Cop, and we arent impressed. Try and see things from my perspective here junior: You have 2 years before you start getting acne, 4 years til you can drive (with an adult), 6 years before you can buy cigarettes, porn and lottery tickets, and 9 years before you can legally walk into a bar. By that time, those 'rinestone' studded Jackie-O sunglasses you dropped a cool 30 bucks on at Hollister will have gone the way of the Trucker hat. But that wont stop you from wearring them, will it?

I sometimes think the ancient Spartans had it right. Had these mistakes been hurled off a cliff at birth as Zeus intended, we wouldnt have people like Kevin Federline walking around today. But since for some reason this is now socially frowned upon, i propose the following: Whoever the primary male role model in the lives of these miscreants are, grab yer scrawny charge by the scruff of the neck, drag him into the backyard, and proceed to beat the douchebag out of him with the garden hose. if you dont, hes gonna grow up to be a jager-bombin, pink polo-wearrin, collar poppin, new haircut-havin, man tan-sprayin, tribal tattoo-havin, too much abercrombie and fitch cologne-wearrin, grindin his piece of every piece of ass that walks in that door and then posting the pictures on myspace toolbag. And thats not good for anyone.

What Grinds My Gears? by SKRAMACE

We live in a world where fashion and functionality are one in the same. I am talking, of course, about the iPhone. The iPhone is the ultimate "LOOKATMEIMNOTPOOR!" status symbol...that is if you are a superficial, insecure bitch. Now, I know our loyal followers are saying "Hey, I have an iPhone and I'm not an insecure bitch!" My friends, you are correct...I am referring to a totally different demographic from you fine people...

I overheard a conversation the other day where this girl was going on and on about her "Apps" and her "Wi-fi." Nothing new really, but I later realized, IT WAS AN IPOD EFFING TOUCH!!! It didn't even have headphones. Who carries an iPod around without headphones? I'll tell you who. Someone who can't afford to pay for the iPhone's exorbitant data plan, but still has enough dignity to blow on a device that COULD BE MISTAKEN as the elusive iPhone. In retrospect, I should have faked an asthma attack, looked her in the eye and sputtered "Quick...your phone...911!" No big deal, there are enough insecure bitches in this world, I'm guaranteed to find another.

The Boosh Hall of Fame: Zinedine Zidane

This dirty Frog's flagrant disregard for the rules of civilized sportsmanship as well as a fellow human being's physical well being more than make up for the fact that he's French, and that his first name is Zinedine. This is the type of ruthless aggression that would have made the likes of Napoleon Bonaparte, Jacques Chirac and Javier from 'Les Miserables' proud. If the French had had 100 of this guy in WW Deuce, the Krauts would have never gotten one tank tread past the Maginot Line.

Zinedine Zidane, our collective caps are doffed to you mon amis, but if I ever see you on the street, Im running the other way and tripping an old lady to distract you.

Les Boosh.

The Boosh Hall of Fame (New Segment!)

Dedicated to all the people, places, and things that epitomize the noble philosophy of 'Boosh' by the very nature of their pwning awesomeness. All of us should try to live up to the high standards set forth by these, God's gifts to the human race

Behold Rock Bottom

When we met Phoenix on Wednesday, he didn’t really seem to want to talk about his starring role as Leonard in the art-house picture (in a 30-minute interview, he talked about the film only twice). Instead, he was fixated on explaining why he is quitting acting forever and pursuing a rap career.

The Oscar-nominated star arrived an hour-and-a-half late, smoking a cigarette, and sporting pit stains the size of Big Macs on his dirty shirt. His former intense, good looks were buried under a mangy beard and about 20 pounds of excess weight. His body odor cascaded through the room in waves. If this isn't a hoax, then I'm sorry to be the first to say, we've lost him, he's gone. Boosh.

Vintage Boosh 5

Vintage Boosh 4

Survival++:Bears

Bears, natures lovable cuddly woodland creatures or godless marauding killing machines? When you first think of bears you may think back to the days of yore when we all enjoyed such delights as the Bernstein Bears, or our favorite forest fire preventer Smokey the Bear. Hell, I even remember loving to watch Yogi bear stealing picnic baskets from unsuspecting campers. But its not picnic baskets bears steal, oh no, it your EFFING intestines they're after. There are many myths surrounding how to survive a bear attack and I am here to debunk them all. Myth #1: Play dead- Lets just say if you play dead the bear will sniff you for a bit then, after snidely saying there's no such thing as a free lunch, rip your chest cavity open as you gurgle bloody curses at Outdoor Americas Hiker Tip Section. Myth #2: Get into your car and lock the doors- Wrong again, a Grizzly bear would tear off the door to your silver Prius the way fat kids tear into a bag of Doritos and he would proceed to sup upon your entrails pleasantly surprised that he gets to do so while listening to the new Maroon 5 album you played to calm yourself down. Myth #3: Make loud noises and wave your arms around- Friends let me be clear, screaming a flailing around wont scare a bear off, rather it would insult the bears status as an apex predator and likely cause him to ensure your death a very slow and bitter one, most likely mocking you throughout the ordeal. No there is only one answer to surviving a bear attack and it is the same answer we Americans have for everything. A Big EFFING GUN. I'm not talking your dad's .22 I' m saying get a semi-automatic Barret .50FMJ with depleted uranium tips and decals that read "Bears can suck my *$&#".....Then and only then will you be able to survive the inevitable encounter with God's back-up plan. And as always, remember to cut of his furry head to mount as a trophy and testament to your hard-earned badassery.

What Grinds My Gears? By Chai T

Undisciplined evening jogger who wears Olympic quality running gear.

Two Grind My Gears in one day!?! I must live in an annoying place. So lets paint a picture. For the last few weeks Ive taken the same route home from teaching my martial arts class, and as such, end up driving past the same spots around the same time. Along my route I occasionally see this jogger. I say occasionally because in the 8 or so trips Ive made Ive seen him maybe 3 times, none of which occurred on a schedule, so I can tell he is not running in any sort of pattern. I digress. We will call him Lou. Lou is the poster child for hydrogenated corn syrup and prepackaged TGI Fridays appetizers. He has a rolling belly, a more than noticeable waddle, and greasy shoulder-length hair that would make any Vietnam-era hippie quiver with envy. If you saw Lou perusing the potato chip aisle with a look not unlike an Orthodox Jewish man during the disrobing of his new bride, you wouldn't be surprised. He is the personification of all that went wrong with the American food industry, but I am getting off topic.

So today, which is the day I decided enough was enough, I saw Lou running, no waddling swiftly, sweat cascading down his brow, all the while sporting bran new Ascis running shoes (which when I looked up just now, are over $300), Nike speedo-esque running shorts, and a $100 "aerodynamic" Nike running shirt...........Go ahead.......take it in..........finished?...ok...so someone please tell me why a man who doesn't realize that he has Cheeto cheese powder still looming on the corners of his mouth like the cud of a dairy cow requires this level of equipment to attempt at rectifying the slovenly and down right sadistic participation in binge eating. What ever happened to sweat pants and a look of shame as the fit good looking girls laughed as they passed you during their warm-up? We may never know. So here's to you Lou, and your feeble attempt at putting off that inevitable quadruple bypass. CHEERS!!

-Chai T

Vintage Boosh 3

Where is Sam Jackson when you need him?

Baby pythons escape during flight in Australia

MELBOURNE, Australia – Four baby pythons escaped from a container aboard a passenger plane in Australia, leading to a search that forced the cancellation of two flights, the airline said Thursday. Twelve non-venemous Stimson pythons were being transported Tuesday on a flight from Alice Springs to Melbourne in the plane's cargo area in a bag inside a plastic foam box with air holes.
When the flight landed, it was discovered that four snakes had escaped from the package, a Qantas spokeswoman said in a statement.
A reptile expert searched for the 6-inch (15-centimeter) -long snakes but did not find them. It was not known if the snakes were still on the plane or if they had somehow escaped outside after the plane landed.
In the meantime, the plane missed two flights it had been scheduled to fly and the passengers were transferred to other flights.
When the snakes were not found, the airplane was fumigated and it returned to service on Wednesday.
Stimson's pythons, which can grow up to three feet (one meter) long, live in western and central Australia and are not an endangered species.

Survival++: Python

Think you know Python? If the first thing that came to your mind was white space, GET OUT! Pythons can grow up to 20ft in length and weigh up to 250lbs. Despite their size, they are as silent as the ticket lines for a Nickelback concert. But this is America...no Pythons here...right? You, my friend, are lucky you're not dead yet. The Burmese Python was introduced to Florida in 1990, and scientists believe they can make the whole southern half of America its feeding ground.

These limbless demons are faster than you and stronger than you, so don't try to outrun them or fight them (unless you have firepower or an area-of-effect weapon). They will only try to kill you by constriction before EATING YOU EFFING WHOLE!

Lay still and breathe slowly. The snake will think you're dead and begin to eat you from your feet. Remain STILL until the snake gets to your knees, at which point you slowly grab your knife and stab it in the head. It is extra points if you stab yourself as well, then you have a scar to assert your badassery. Finally, cut off its head as a trophy, you deserve it and you deserve to stay in the genepool!

Know What Grinds My Gears? by Chai T

As most 24 year old a year or two out of college i find myself day in and day out rolling my disheveled heap from bed every morning and, while in a coma of sorts, shower, brush my teeth, do my hair, get dressed, and fight traffic all the way to the ol' office. "Now this is all well and good", i comfort myself. I am doing well, good pay, nice apartment, a small dog that annoys me at every wag of his tail, yes its the good life. So as I sit down and begin my day of working hard, responding to emails, and pleasing everyone it begins. While jamming to Say Anything and working on a project the endless precession of smirking faced, awkward 'seniors' come and invite themselves to sit in my company appointed 'guest chair' to look over my shoulder. Initially the inquisitively gaze at my work, nodding a smug sense of approval as though they have any idea what I'm doing and probably thinking wow I wish I could do that. So I take out the head phones, paste on that million dollar smile and greet them as though I would have killed myself that night had it not been for their visit. We chat for awhile about the weather, about coffee, the new stapler, you know, the really interesting things. Then it happens, like a bolt of lightening that strikes an unsuspecting orphan playing with scrap metal in a junk yard; "So Andy, we have the meeting today with the boss and well, I just wanted to see what you've done so we have stuff to talk about and show him". Fan-EFFING-tastic. You (the people that train my desk) are all 30 years my senior, were hired because you are 'experts' in this field, and all consider me a novice. Yet in the 11th hour you slog over to my desk like George Bizet's musical character on your march to the scaffold begging for me to give you some of my brilliant and hard earned work to call it your own. Nay Nay I declare. No more with this corporate cultural norm be had at the hands of me!! I will no longer stand for it. So come hither and beg for work and I shall feed you scraps of meat not fit for the best of rats. And speak of the devil, here comes one now, time to feed the herd. Until next time,

Chai T

New Segment: Survival++

Ah, how glorious it is to bathe in the gene pool. I have my father's eyes, my grandfather's sense of humor...If you continue back enough, I have my "very great" grandfather's bi-pedal step, and my even-greater grandfather's central nervous system. Keep going and my family tree looks very different, all the way back to single-celled organisms and gooey clumps of protein. Sure, my history is very diverse, but every one of my biological ancestors had one thing in common...they didn't effing DIE before passing on their GENES!

Skip to 2009, every one of my chairs is soft and fluffy, I am never more than 10 seconds away from the Internet. My "Mr. Rogers Mentality" is ever-present and I believe that today will be the same, safe day as tomorrow...

I COULDN'T BE MORE WRONG AND NEITHER COULD YOU!!!

Mother Nature is HELL EFFING BENT on killing you and every piece of DNA in your body. Stop and look at her creations...Scorpions, Cobras, Vultures, Bears. Think you can survive a bear attack? What if a rattlesnake bites you? WHEN it happens, will you panic for the last 20 seconds of your 3.5 Billion year existence, or will you tie a tourniquet or saw your leg off and live for another 3.5 Billion?

My job, NAY, my responsibility from here forward is to ensure YOUR survival against all of Mother Nature's horrors. Stand tall, my friends, at the top of the food chain, live to enjoy another cigar and another brandy. This is Survival++!

Vintage Boosh 2

Know what really grinds my gears? (Vol 1)

God's Facebook page.

So I get home from work the other day and proceed to crash on my bed. I fill the void of about a half hour between the time I stumble through the door and the time I stumble upstairs to shovel food into my mouth by being a creeper and stalking people on Facebook.

As Im perusing the one million twitter updates that somehow found their way onto facebook of all the people i dont like, never talk to, or have never even met in person, something jumps out from my periphery and hits me like a proverbial head butt from Zinedine Zidane. Its a small thumbnail photo of a cross outlined against a setting sun. The blue link at the top of the pic simply says 'God'. Below the pic, I see the ever important info that 4 of my friends are 'Fans.'

The insanity continues. Right below this, there is another thumbnail picture of Jesus. The page title, 'Jesus'. 5 of my friends are fans.

So we have God: The omnipotent being who spawned creation with a thought and could end it with a whisper. Who is the dew on the grass, the bird in the air etc. etc. and knows all things past present and in the age to come because he exists OUTSIDE OF TIME...

And we have Jesus, the son of God who also happens to be, God. A man born in a barn, living a life of willing abject poverty. Gave sight to the blind, cleansed lepers and cast out EFFING DEMONS with a word and ultimately died the most horrible and gruesome death imaginable to save us from our sins, simultaneously asking forgivness for the douchebags doing it to him and then...this is the crazy part...rose from the dead!

And now, you can give a cyber shout out to two of the three members of the Holy Trinity (because the Holy Ghost was never important anyway) and proudly display yer undying faith right underneath yer Russell Brand fan page and just above the 'I Love Beer Pong' group.

Really?

Is this what modern religion has been reduced to? Once upon a time, enterprising Christians would repeatedly flog themselves as a testament to their faith. Granted, that may have been a little extreme, but you see what im saying here. Imagine if we could go back in time and talk to these zealots....

Facebook User: "No! Wait! Don't flog yerself repeatedly and go 40 days without eating anything but bread and water! Here! All you have to do to show yer faith is click this button, then God can access yer profile, see yer a fan, and Boom! Everlasting salvation is yers!"

Medeival Opus Dei Member: "Whoa...sweet! Imma put down this whip and find me an albino hooker! No wait! Thats insane!....Im taking the whip with me!"

Give me an effing break! If yer really a fan of God, try this on for size: Maybe live yer life in a quasi decent manner. Several books have been written on the subject, you dont have to read them all, just one will do. In the meantime, imma let you in on a secret. If you happen to be one of these people who is a 'Fan' of God on Facebook, dont worry. He still loves you.

But I think yer a douche.

ShamWow Pitchman Beats Hooker to the Punch

Vince Shlomi was arrested in Miami Beach last month after cops say he allegedly hired a hooker, whom he took back to his hotel. According to the arrest affidavit, obtained by The Smoking Gun, Shlomi began kissing the hooker when she allegedly "bit his tongue and would not let go."

According to cops, Shlomi then punched the prostitute several times until she released his tongue. Both the prostitute and Shlomi were arrested for felony aggravated battery.

Excuse us for living, but it seems justified to punch a hooker when she bites your tongue. Apparently, prosecutors agreed, because they declined to prosecute either one.

The BOOSH Diaries Entry 1

So the other weekend I decided to take a spry jaunt over to the local Irish Swillery to search for the solution to lifes problems at the bottom of a Smithwicks bottle. I have yet to find the solution but in going about solving my problems this way I realized I am privy to many a tom foolery. So I decided to write a diary, a diary akin to many a teenage youngsters, full of angst and observation of day to day life. However this diary will have one main theme. You guessed it, BOOSHES. So, back to the Pub. As I walked out to get some fresh air I noticed a young couple standing on the corner, both young fairly attractive people who fit the Yuppy genre. Clearly not having a good time, I over heard them arguing about something so in my boredom and need to be a creeper I listened in on the festivities. THANK GOD I didnt miss this jewel. So as the young lady scream incoherent rants about cosmo articles and genetic dispositions that cause unfaithfulness, the guy, a struggling lad, tried desperatly to explain why he had inappropriate contact with the lady's sister. BOOSH! So in mid sentence of his defense the lady hauled up and smacked him with a right hand so hard I could hear it echo through is shocked open mouth.....and without pause the jibbering hooligan up and smacked her back BOOSH!!! There was an awkward pause and moment of shock. Then as if in unison they looked at me realizing I had witnessed the entire ordeal. The lady ran off crying and the guy went back into the Pub for another Pint. I stood solemly in the night air, laughing to myself. What a good night for a hearty Boosh. Until then,

Chai T

Democracy FAIL!

NASA announced yesterday that the space station's Node 3 will NOT me named after Stephen Colbert. After a public online vote, the name "Colbert" won by a margin of 3.3% out of a total of 1.2 million votes. NASA decided to go with the incredibly lame and generic "Tranquility" instead. Way to show the Middle East how democracy works in America! As a peace offering to the outraged members of the Colbert Nation, NASA has named the astronauts' treadmill the Combined Operational Load Bearing External Resistance Treadmill, or C.O.L.B.E.R.T..

The Noble History of 'Boosh!'

Some of you may be asking yerselves; "What exactly is this 'Boosh' that these gents keep referring to?" You've probably been able to deduce via context that 'Boosh' is a term used in instances of extreme pwnage or awesomeness. If you haven't been able to get that far on yer own then...well...yer an idiot and i invite you to take a long dive into a shallow well, thereby decreasing the surplus population and ensuring Obama's stimulus money is more widely distibuted to those with an IQ higher than that of the common potatoe chip.

For the rest of you, gather and sit under my learning tree for a hot minute and I will enlighten you further into the mysteries of Boosh. Boosh isn't just a word. Its not just a philosophy. Its a way of life handed down from generation to generation by our noble ancestors. When the first caveman pummeled his bride to be over the head with the severed calf bone of a Tricerotops, Boosh was there. When the ancient Summerians perfected the recipe for meade, boosh was there. When King David wrote his psalms, many were ended with the exclamation 'Selah,' which roughly translates to 'Boosh.' When the Greeks defeated the Persians at Marathon, a messenger ran 26 miles to Athens, stumbled into the town square, and shouted 'Boosh!' right before his heart exploded. When Christopher Columbus sighted land, he dropped to his knees, raised his eyes to the heavens, and in a triumphant voice exclaimed 'Boosh!'

For most of modern times, 'Boosh' has largely been extinguished from the dictionary and the thought process of most civilized societies (altho it is rumored that various pygmy tribes in the Amazon basin still practice 'Boosh' in its purest form, these rumors have yet to be independently validated) due to a campaign of oppression and intolerance facilitated by the Illuminati, who fear the power of 'Boosh' will grow to surpass their own, as in days of yore.

But a small, tight nit group of rebels and dissidents have risen from the ashes of the modern world to restore the glory of 'Boosh' to its rightful place in society. We are the agents of Boosh. The revolution has begun, and the time is extremely, effing, nigh.

On a lighter note, here are some definitions of 'Boosh' as provided by urbandictionary.com, the alpha and omega of the literary slang world. The first definition is the one we most closely adhere to on this forum, altho *MOSTothers are not incompatible with the first and ere go you will not be stoned (in the Biblical sense) if you find that they jive better with yer respective views on the world.


1.
Boosh
Expression used by the X-ticles in the tv show "Frisky Dingo" to express awesomeness. Sometimes in intense cases it can even be modified to "BA-BA-BOOSH" and can be used in daily life during instances of pwnage or other extreme craziness.

"I love chinatown! BOOSH!"


2.
Boosh
interj. 1. Used to express joy, happiness, delight, or happyness. 2. Used to express repugnance or contempt. 3. Used to interrupt a conversation. 4. Used to suprise or jolt another. 5. A combination of any or all of the above at once.

"Tickle the scrotum of logic topwise! Boosh, checkmate!"


3.
Boosh
abv. for "The Mighty Boosh" BBC radio and TV sitcom. Stars Julian Barret and Noel Fielding as zookeepers Howard T.J. Moon and Vince Noir (Rock n Roll Star).

"Come with us to The Mighty Boosh. The Boosh is loose and we're a little bit raw. Boosh, Boosh, stonger than a moose, don't lock your doors or we'll come through the roof. "


4.
BOOSH
A yell of celebration by an individual or a group. Can be also used after a person has been insulted.

"You're mother is a whore! BOOSH"


5.
Boosh
Used to describe accomplishing a goal or task. Such as making a shot in beer pong, in pool, or after a successful thats what she said joke. Must be proclaimed in a loud manor.

Matt aims at the last cup in beer pong...shoots, and sinks it. Matt: "boosh"

*The following definition is ENTIRELY unacceptable and anyone found using it will be anathematized to the fullest extent by the Boosh community:


6.
Boosh
An affectionate/heartfelt nickname used for a significant other. Usually used when in a good/loving mood.

"Boosh - I miss you. When will I get to see my Boosh again?"

I speak for all of us when I say WHAT THE F!#!?!?!? No one EVER uses Boosh in that context and it makes me sick that someone would dare suggest otherwise.

Anyway - You all have a splendid evening :)