Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Songs that Instruct You to Make Specific Motions

Including (but not limited to):

*Clap your hands

*Wave your hands in the air

*Shake it/Work it/Twirk it

*Get low

*Let me see [body part or suggestive motion]

*The Cupid Shuffle

*Anything to do to or with your ass

Notably exempt: ’80s rap.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Going-Out Tops

Christ, you girls look like fucking lollipops on denim sticks. No really, I just love when you’re all lined up in your interchangeable uniforms of black pumps, dark low-rise jeans and a plethora of hideous tops. It’s like a fanned-out deck of Ugly. I mean, nothing screams class like an ill-fitting stretchy purple halter top with gold chains dangling between your breasts, pink sequins along your cleavage and ruche-y douchey scrunch-it-up cords along the sides. You look like you’re wearing the tragic results of setting an 8-year-old girl loose with half of the trimmings aisle at Jo-Ann Fabrics, some hideous satin fabric and an inexhaustible glue gun.

What, this? This is a stained and threadbare T-shirt that was my absolute favorite in third grade because it has a red and white squirrel on the front. Then, in fifth grade, I tie-dyed it with this kit Michelle gave me for my birthday with like, dye-soaked cords you knotted around it. Yeah, I found it in my closet last Christmas and cut off the sleeves and neck. This thing is a fucking work of art.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Axe Body Spray

Oh, my. What is that undeniably sexy smell? All of a sudden I have the intense urge to tear off all of my clothes and rub myself all over you, dude in the black button-up shirt who has indulged in copious amounts of hair gel. I can hardly tell that you purchased your fragrance of choice at the local CVS, most likely along with a sixer of Bud and yet another economy-sized box of condoms (it’s sad when those suckers expire, isn’t it, dude?). My nose is not at all burning with the slightly acrid scent emanating from your furred chest—and it’s kind of awesome that I can smell you all the way over on the other side of the bar, where I am currently huddled, sneezing. And the fact that, even after I exit this bar, leaving you to wend your merry way to Midtown, your manufactured man musk lingering in my nasal cavity will only make me want you all the more. I would send you an impassioned Missed Connection, oh sensuous stranger, but your utter manliness is just too much for me. Until I can gather up the moxie to make you mine, I believe I will persist in pursuing soft, pale dudes who carry the scent of grass, cigarette smoke and unwashed clothing. It’s probably better this way. Good luck breaking in those ‘doms, man.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Initials Used as Names

TJ, JP, AJ, KD — all synonymous with douche.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Baby Hipsters

Hello child, currently masticating a chocolate croissant in my sight line—the brown-stained pastry whirling around in your gaping mouth like horrifically soiled sheets—I do not find you amusing. Although you are cleverly disguised so as to look “hip,” what with your tiny Replacements T-shirt and artistically disheveled hairdo, I recognize you for what you are: a wailing, whimpering, slightly damp excuse for a human being. Yes, your parents may be attractive in an I’m-way-too-fucking-old-to-live-in-Williamsburg-but-I’m-gonna-rock-this-sleeve-tat-anyway kind of way, but their tragically fading hotness is not enough to overshadow the horror that is you. Please remove yourself from this eating establishment. Brunch is not for fucking kids.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Pimped-Out Cars

I’m sorry about your penis.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Apparent Hair Product

Who the fuck uses hair gel? That neon-colored shit with the little bubbles suspended in it? Do you really think I would walk into a bodega and buy myself a bottle of L.A. Looks or whatever the fuck that is? My signature coiff is all ozone, cigarette ash and natural musk, thank you very much. (And a little bit of overpriced styling paste. But that’s between me and God.)

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Biceps

No. I would rather not touch that. I would sooner go to an actual gun show.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

U2

I choose “without you.”

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Bump-Its

Oh, hello there, girl with teased, hairsprayed, protruding cone-like mass atop her head. What are you hiding in there? A litter of baby mice? A baseball? More bronzer in case your face loses its shimmery tanned glow? Maybe a small snack for later after you’ve slammed back your cosmos and vodka cranberries? Or maybe it’s the plastic “Bump It” insert *as seen on TV!* that you bought from your local drug store—yes, they actually fucking make those. Or perhaps your head is just actually shaped like a cone.

Today's Stuff I Hate by Harms

Jager Bombs

You know who likes jager bombs? That guy who shows up at the relatively nice bar/restaurant, finds his understandably uncomfortable “friends” at a table, loudly orders them all their own jager bombs, flips his fucking shit when the drinks aren’t done right with the shots atop the glasses and the balancing and the Mousetrap-style bullshit, makes a huge ass of himself trying to slam on the table to get the shots to fall in, hoots often, stands up at points, attracts a lot of attention, spits while he talks and then stumbles into the night. That’s who fucking likes jager bombs. They’re the national drink of Douche Island. Now somebody get me a beer.

A gift

A gift to my pretend french child.

Dreams really do come true

I knew Jesus died for more than our sins!

Let's pretend this didnt happen

Do you know this girl? You probably do. She not too long ago was strolling into one of your college classes wearing fucking sweat pants, as if she had no time to get ready for school. But she did. She was wearing a full face of make up and hair that took longer to do that you probably took getting ready. I hate this girl, and I hate her friends. You know why? Respect. Why can’t you just wear jeans? They take the same amount of time to put on, but no you decide sweatpants show the same amount of respect for my peers and teachers as real clothes. Would you wear sweatpants to a job interview? Didn’t think so! (now for the case if people who actually got up and rolled out of bed, unkempt and came to school, that is fine. Because you weren’t trying to trick everyone into thinking you might have. You didn’t need to, you were too hung over.) I digress. Like I was saying sweatpants tell me and the world you hate yourself and you are forcing us(me) to hate you as well. And just when I didn’t think things could get any worse, come these girls dreams. Click the link for details and meet me back here… GO…

FUCKING JEAN SWEAT PANTS! I want to slap the person who invented these right in the neck. If there is a god he is puking all over heaven right now. The angels are literally covered in bile. And its all because somebody wants to wear fucking sweats disguised as jeans. I won’t even go into how in real life there is no possible way they even look like jeans. I understand sweatpants are comfortable, (i hear, i actually do not own any) but come on. Respect yourself and those around you by taking a little bit of pride in the way you look, and never wearing sweatpants unless in some sort of hostage situation.

Thank you.

Things that Rule: Buying a Lighter

Lighters are good for all kinds of things. Lighting stuff on fire, popping open beer bottles… umm… hmm. Let me start over.

Lighters are good for exactly two things. I can never seem to hold on to one for very long, but I think I’ve finally figured out why: I never actually buy them.

There’s always a lighter coming your way if you can wait long enough. Maybe it’ll be in the couch cushions. Maybe it’ll be under the couch. Maybe it’ll be at a friends house and you’ll be like “whose lighter is this?” and nobody will respond and then BAM – new lighter. Other than those weird Zippo people, lighters don’t really mean much to anyone. They come and go. Big deal.

But sometimes you might have to wait a little longer than you thought. Sometimes you end up spending a little more time than you’d like to asking people for a light, or using matches, or rubbing two sticks together because you know that paying a dollar for a lighter is ridiculous. You know if you just wait a little longer, just a little longer, that magical free lighter is gonna drop out of the sky and you’ll be good to go for another few months until you lose it again.

If you have never been a smoker, none of this means anything to you, does it?

Waiting around for a free lighter is great and everything, but sometimes you have to be more proactive. Sometimes you have to grab life by the horns, walk into the gas station and say “One lighter, please.” Then the guy behind the counter will say “Which one you want?” and you’ll say “I don’t know… the cheapest one,” and he’ll say, “You want a mini?” and you’ll say “No – the cheapest full-size one,” and he’ll hold up a plain blue Bic and be like “This one?” and you’ll be like “Yeah, that’s fine.” You’ll be a dollar poorer, but it won’t matter. You’ll have your own lighter, one that you actually paid for, and you know what?

You’re totally not gonna lose it this time.

Buying a lighter rules.

Backstage Demands

We've decided that if we ever become stars (in some parallel dimension where the older you get, the more rock and roll you are), We will have our own special rider with the following things:

1. Ample champagne, duh.
2. A horse named Sprinkles to ride onstage with.
3. The only security guards allowed in backstage areas must be named Claude.
4. Manicurist/pedicurist/massage therapist.
5. A TV set up playing a continuous loop of the show 227
6. Zac Efron
7. 3 man slip-n-slide and 55 gallon drum of baby oil for obvious reasons.
8. Michael Bolton playing softly in the backround.
9. Magical fat and calorie-free Doritos.
10. …and soy milk and cookies for the band/our dance team/the rest of the a cappella group.

Today's Random Thought by Harms

Reading our blog won't blow your mind, but it will fluff it for awhile.

Today's Random Thought by Harms

The mind is a terrible thing to waste. So is cocaine.

Keep on with the Force

A wise man once said "don't stop 'til you get enough." Although that man turned out to be a troubled, bedazzled soul with a penchant for young boys, he was wise nonetheless. I've lived by these words for many years. For example, in my early 20s, I didn't stop 'til I got enough blow or asshole boyfriends. As it turns out, his wise words didn't stop there.

I learned that Billie Jean was not my lover - neither was Jim, Tony or Brad. I stopped keeping track anyway, and now I fondly refer to those lucky few as "Guy in the Green Shirt"..."Guy with the Motorcycle"..."Captain Hook." You know how it is. The list of life lessons goes on and on.

Thanks M.J. for teaching me everything my mom never told me. Those aren't stars in the sky, it's the moonlight bouncing off your glove.

Dreamweaver, I Believe You Can Get Me Through the Night

Besides a nifty decoration for your rear view mirror or adornments for your grandmother's earlobes, Dreamcatchers were created to catch all the good dreams. I'm all about having good dreams, but how does this "Dreamcatcher" know which dreams I want to catch? For example, I can barely remember that dream about me and that hot guy having sex, but I vividly remember that dream about me growing a small, flaccid penis. What's up with that, Dreamcatcher?

I'm not poking fun at this traditional Native American keepsake, but I'd rather celebrate a different Indian contribution to society, like the casino.

But then my homework was never quite like this...

Seeking Topless Tutors – great pay, great times!

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Address emails to
[Name]
Director of Development

*We’re just trying to gauge the market at this point; if you are interested please email us back.

Requirements
- B- or better in the course you apply to tutor
- confident, hardworking personality

Job description
- instruct client for a given course
- flash client when they get an answer correct

Why do I suspect that they’re going to get a lot of high school-aged boys who claim that they need tutoring in remedial math? And why does it horrify me that this company is allowing someone who got a B- in a course to tutor someone else in it?

Of course, I also suspect that the prospective applicants will have to send pictures and go through a lengthy “training” session with our entrepreneurial hero.

Just in case you’re looking for a tutor, but you’re horrified by the prospect of seeing someone’s … tracts of land, here’s another option for you:

Starting childcare

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Hello I will be starting a childcare program for children ages 5-12 I will work with the kids on being polite and teaching them what you want them to know more my prices all vary severe kids will be charged a little more running between 7.50 to 12.50 hour averge kid will run 5.00 to 7.00 or may very with parents that’s per kid I love working with kids they can come to my house or I can come to yours I am 17 young Christian man I will not push you into any religoun I am homeschooled all I am doing is helping you with childcare my religon won’t get involved with childcare my name is James brown and Jesse Scott I will tell you everything because I think the parent ought to know who is watching their child my cell number is (xxx)-xxx-xxxx

That’s right, James Brown is starting a childcare program. James Brown, the Godfather of Soul, the hardest working man in show business, Mr. Please Please Please, Mr. Soul Brother Number One is starting a childcare program. Unless he’s Jesse Scott. But at least he won’t show you his tits.

Not Yet!

I have nothing against older people. In fact, I have a lot of respect for AARP and their work.

I get odd mail all the time, catalogs for odd home remedies (magnets to cure body odor?) and ugly collectibles.

I reached a whole new level of shock when I received an email from the AARP, complete with temporary membership card.

The email is nice, I suppose they mean well:

Our records show that you haven't yet registered for the benefits of AARP membership, even though you are fully eligible.

As a member, you'll have the resources and information you need to get the most out of life over 50. You'll have access to exclusive discounts.

I have to admit, those discounts are tempting, as are some of the benefits listed in the email. It's why older people look so darn happy - look at some of the fun benefits for only $12.50 a year!

Save at thousands of hotels, motels and resorts worldwide.

Low-interest, no-fee AARP credit card.

An AARP safe-driving course.

And More!

Tempting, but I'm thirty!

I look forward to your joining us. I think you'll agree with our other members: AARP is one of America's very best values.

30!

Today's Random Thought by Harms

Meat is yummy!

Today's Random Thought by Harms

If at first you don't succeed, destroy all evidence you tried.

Everytime I masturbate, God kills the Pope

My heart is filled with sorrow and the future is indeed bleak; free thinking as we know it may very well be in danger of receiving a lobotomy. I can’t help feeling though this is the beginning of the end. Free Speech is only accepted if it’s nice speech, and those naughty cheerleaders are much more important than the astronomical and unexplainable rise in gas prices.

The other day, I kid you not; I saw a pink port-a-potty onna flatbed truck riding down the highway. Precious Pink Port-a-Potties; soft and reassuring on the outside, but still a crap hole on the inside.

Auld Lang Syne

We've made it through the holidays and into the new year. It's time for everyone to make their New Year's resolutions and vow to stick to them. I've already broken most of mine except for the one about having sex with midgets in the back of a van. It only happened a few times in the past, but I try to stick to this one every year. So far, so good.