Giant Fucking Spiders are NOT TO BE FEARED. Totally.

So one of my good friends recently moved to a new apartment, and we had a little housewarming party.

I, being considerate and kind, offered to make dinner. This meant that I made everyone hotdogs, because that’s the only food I can really make consistently. I mean, I’ve tried pasta before, but fucking Christ, that whole boiling the pasta till it’s “al dente”? The first time I tried, the meal was delicious, but the second time, it was sort of like eating cut up bits of hollowed sticks. But I make some killer hotdogs.

Well, anyway. We got around to talking about how due to her living on the ground floor, and not having a bed yet, she’d probably get some spiders. You know, no big deal. Just huge, gigantic spiders that would eat her face as she slept. Or something.

Needless to say, she was freaked out and yelled at us to shut up about the god damn spiders. So we stopped talking about the spiders eating her face, and talked about how rational it was to have a fear of spiders. I mean, most of them are small, harmless, and are generally afraid of you. (Or…so they say). They eat the other bugs in your house, and are basically doing you a sort of favor. So, how reasonable is it to be terrified by such kind and gentle creatures? So what if they can cause necrotic arachnidism?

There’s a pretty funny story that I’ve heard about a woman capturing a black widow, and being too afraid to kill it, she kept it in a jar in the kitchen, and waited for it to suffocate. Somehow, weeks went by and the thing was thriving and well, even with no air and no food. She was horrified and decided that clearly this some sort of devil spawn. But a few days later, she came into the kitchen at an earlier than usual time before work…only to find her husband cackling to himself as he unscrewed the top of the jar just a tiny bit to let in air. Her husband had been keeping the thing alive to freak her the fuck out for shits and giggles.

I don’t know the ending to that story (the husband is probably dead right now), but basically spiders aren’t immortal. They can and will die if you suffocate them, light them on fire, or squish them. So there’s no need to be scared at all. (Unless, like me, you saw Arachnophobia when you were a little kid, and keep expecting one to jump on you in the shower). We talked this all through, and we were pleased with how brave and mature we were being. We were finally growing up. Psh. Spiders. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Two days later, my friend found a giant wolf spider just kicking it in her bathtub, and called me to tell me that she was still afraid of spiders. I laughed at her, and told her to grow up.

The next day, I found one in my shower, and I screamed like a little girl.

Motherfucking Karma’s a bitch.

PS Remember that “Bought a DOG” meme after the internet showed up as a special guest on Fox news, blowing up vans and shit? Apparently, spiders are so fucking badass, they’ll kick the dog’s ass.

Never mind that the dog probably died from something else, I’m telling you. They’re fucking out there. Waiting for you. Waiting in your toilet bowl, ready to attack.

But there’s nothing to be afraid of. Yeah.

Sup Kids? Luk Here! LOL! Facebook Virus Warning

There’s a Facebook virus that just hit… what, today? I have no idea, but it looks like most of the comments on this blog seem to be from today, so probably. Probably this last week?

The message basically reads something along the lines of:

“hi [your name], lol i cant believe is that you?

have a luk urself…
[Insert what appears to be a google link to a download; I'm leaving the link out because I didn't bother opening it and it would be retarded to leave it here for unsuspecting readers to open. Haha.]**
(click open or run when prompted)”

Aside from the really, really fucked up “Click open or run when prompted” (that sounds so…friendly! So intimate! Clearly, we’re quite close here), it’s ridiculous because that’s the only part of the message where everything seems to be spelled correctly. Ok. SURE. WILL DO. I’LL BE SURE TO RUN THIS SUSPICIOUS PROGRAM ON MY MACHINE.

Anyway, people are fucking retarded, and will more than likely download it, and we’ll all just keep infecting each other until we’ve managed to wipe ourselves off of the planet. So basically, we’re just going to turn the internet into America.

If I EVER left anyone a comment saying, “lol have a luk urself”, what I would really mean is “Please shoot me in the head for not being able to spell LOOK.”

I swear to fucking god, they HAVE to be getting poor migrant farmers from some tiny rural village in bumfuck China to write these things. Or teenagers. Whichever.

Either way, YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

** This was to protect the innocence of my more retarded friends. The link is actually “http://www.google.com.id.ewv1g6d2.ij4s0h.2b99df1a.cn/gallery.php?id=dd83hikzt&auth=9490559&cyua=iy2qpfpelm”. If you see this link, DON’T FUCKING CLICK AND DOWNLOAD IT. If you do, you deserve whatever hell it gives you.

[edit] Sounds like there are a few different links. One of the comments below cited “http://www.google.com.id.ft8s7b8n.9qie28.2b99df1a.cn/gallery.php?id=fx83wox9d&auth=4544912&cyua=majf63uvx9″.

[edit2] LOL. The link right above this edit, the one that ends in majf63uvx9, will apparently infect you as soon as you click on it. Whoops for putting it up. (I’m leaving it there, just to see if anyone else clicks on it despite this very, very obvious statement saying not to.)

[edit2.5] AND another. “http://www.google.com.id.2kcj3t2m.1um8b9.56982a17.cn/gallery.php?id=l18u1dj62&auth=1836653&cyua=9g5qckjlyd”. Remember, DON’T CLICK ON IT =/ These are just for reference purposes only.

[edit3] Just a note: if you’ve accidentally clicked on one of the links and are worried your computer may be infected, SEE THE COMMENTS on this article for help.

Also, here’s another horrible plague on mankind to watch out for on Facebook =|

With a Yo Ho Ho and a Really Sweet Bass Riff

So I don’t know how many of you get your musical suggestions. Some people get theirs from friends, others by following such programs as Pandora or the suggestion box of Amazon.com, others just take a wild stab in the dark and buy (or download, let’s be honest here) whatever strikes their fancy. As for me, I usually stick with the things I’ve been listening to for awhile or overhear in a friend’s car or something similar. But one thing I’ve also tried out a few times is by asking random people on the internet.

Now this always meets with the most random results you’ll ever see, which makes it all the more fun for me. Sure you get a lot of shit in the process, from the guy who will admit he doesn’t like a band because “it’s not emo enough” to the guy who suggests a CD about the delicacies of devouring babies in the elegant usage of screams, grunts and death squeals. But you also come across bands you’d never even think of checking out otherwise.

Now I’m sure those of you who follow the Metal scene probably have already heard about this, but for those of you who like me, appreciate Metal but don’t track its movements like a hobo following a drunken tourist, you may be just as shocked as me.

Pirate. Metal.

That’s right, guys, pirate-motherfucking-metal. Let’s be honest and cynical as hell, because as people of the internet we can allow ourselves that. Now, Pirate Metal, allowing ourselves to our honest cynicism, sounds like the stupidest idea ever. But the reality, my friends? It’s like getting really stoned, watching Pirates of the Caribbean, only Johnny Depp also has a really bitching guitar. One person I know referred to it as “badass, but hilariously so” and jesus-tapdancing-christ that’s the perfect way to describe it.

Now while I haven’t fully immersed myself in this rather amusing genre of Metal, I have managed to snag myself a copy of Captain Morgan’s Revenge by (the appropriately named) Alestorm. I’m constantly surprised by finding how much I’m really getting into it. It covers such things as a crew mutinying and being cursed by their Captain before he dies, terror on the high seas, and to more amusing topics such as a man named as the Pintmaster who fights with a flagon of ale and is undefeatable to a song called “Wenches and Meat” which, knowing me, will most likely be the thing I sing next time I’m drunk in a bar with people who are similar to me in the fact that they will remember nothing of it in the morning.

Of course, those sad pitiful bastards that like neither Pirates nor Metal will naturally not like this either. Also, while I find the genre to be amazing and hilariously badass as aforementioned, I can also see how the novelty can wear off mighty quick. Nonetheless, if you feel like a quick laugh and something that is most definitely interesting as hell to listen to, pick up a stein of your favorite beer, drink up and slip in some Alehouse. If by the second or third drink you don’t find you and your friend swaying in unison and mumbling the lyrics under your breaths, then you’re obviously nothing but a sorry landlubber.

I have to say though, this does make me wonder about other types of Metal. I’ve heard of Power Metal, Speed Metal, Prog Metal, Symphonic Metal, Death Metal and many others, yet for some reason this genre keeps on throwing sub-genre after sub-genre at me. Each one has certain similarities but also brings something new to the table and Pirate Metal is merely my most recent discovery. I think out of curiosity if nothing more, I’ll start typing random words before Metal and seeing what pops up. “Boob Metal” perhaps. Or “Super Totally Awesome Metal”. But know this, oh readers, if I don’t return to rant on another day that’s only because I’ve found the one type of Metal that by its mere name alone will make all other subgenres of Metal completely obsolete.

That’s right. Ninja Metal.

~ Guest Article written by Agent 22

Your MOM is the World’s Oldest Joke

According to the Brits, the “world’s oldest joke” has been traced back to 1900 BC.

You can thank the 19th Century BC for bringing us other such whacky hilarity as the rise and fall of several unpronounceable Pharaohs (where by unpronounceable I mean they all had the same name and I can’t pronounce it); the birth of Abraham, founding father of the Israelites (and that really annoying song about his many sons we used to have to sing in choir as a warm-up); a war or two, and an invasion of Greece by some other Greeks, presumably because they were attention whores and wanted an awesome blockbuster action movie to be made about them 40-odd centuries later.

Thanks to the research of the esteemed University of Wolverhampton, we can now add the birth of toilet humour to that list.

I’m not even kidding, it was a smut joke. Check this out for cutting edge Sumerian wit: “Something which has never occurred since time immemorial; a young woman did not fart in her husband’s lap.”

Oho! Zing! Yeah, you uh… you tell ‘em. Did I mention the 19th Century BC also played host to the fall of the last Sumerian dynasty? Yeah. I think I can see where the downward spiral kicked in. It could possibly have had something to do with their civilisation being run by potty-training toddlers and giggling pre-teens.

But hey, who am I to judge? Us 21st Century-goers are the ones funding actual university programmes for intensive research into dirty jokes. Their final publication on the study was actually the “world’s oldest top 10 joke list”, which sounds like a Cracked article waiting to happen.

Landing a close second place a few centuries later was a gag about another unpronounceable pharaoh quoted as “How do you entertain a bored pharaoh? You sail a boatload of young women dressed only in fishing nets down the Nile and urge the pharaoh to go catch a fish.” Talk about eccentric. Apparently hiring a stripper was too easy for this guy.

Coming from the Brits in the 10th Century we have “What hangs at a man’s thigh and wants to poke the hole that it’s often poked before? A key!” Gosh! And here I was thinking it was going to be your penis! Oh those crazy Anglo-Saxons, they sure fooled me with their provocative irony and rebellion against taboo.

I guess what’s really more comical than the jokes themselves is that nothing has really changed in the last four millennia. But can we learn from our mistakes, people? You know as well as I do it was only a matter of time before the Ancient Egyptians started gluing captions to their cats, plus those Sumerians were probably right into the 2 Girls 1 Cup action, and look what happened to them.

Let us break the cycle, once and for all.

The Oregon Trail – Of Oxen and Eggs

Everything seems funnier when you’re young, and honestly, it’s even better if you don’t know what the fuck anyone is saying. You’re lead to a room for two hours everyday, separately from the class. At the time, you have no idea that you’re in ESL. And later on, when you get transferred to the gifted program, you never even notice the difference! After all, you just played with blocks in both of the classes anyway, right? Totally.

Disney movies become mysterious and intriguing (Why, is that a fish talking?), and everyone seems impossibly nice (“You’re retarded.” “O-I speak no English. You are very kind.” “…”). I thought All Dogs Go to Heaven was a horror film. It was awesome.

But nothing beats out the memories of those old computers, way back when. Sitting in front of your blocky IBM, printing out “reports” on those weird sheets of paper with tear away holes on both sides, spending the next half hour tearing away those holed sections on every. single. sheet. of paper in the room. And then there were the games. That one game with the airplane and the math problems, and needing to do the math quickly or else…or else, your plane would crash land in a fiery explosion of failure.

But really, we know what we were all waiting for. We were waiting for the teacher to say it was ok to play ONE game. THE one game, really. …Oregon Trail.

I swear to God, the only thing I remember from that game is dysentery and buffalo eggs. I could not understand why we kept talking about yolks in accordance with buffalo, and came to the 6 year old conclusion that they must lay eggs. And not just any eggs, but giant ones that TWO whole oxen can sit in.

A few days ago, I realized that I needed to find this game. This wasn’t unlike the time I desperately spent 2 hours searching google for the Nanosaur game from my 6th grader days. That game filled me to the very core with sheer terror, and I had no idea what the name was. If anyone looked in my google history, they would find everything from “Dinosaurs trex jetpack” to “jumping raptor oh FUCK DINOSAURS apple school games”. I needed to find it and I needed to play it, and by god, I found it and I did. And so I did for Oregon Trail as well. Luckily, it’s a little bit better known, and there was a nifty online version here, and I was able to relive my childhood.

I do not remember any of this shit in my childhood version of the game. Oregon Trail is a story of tragedy, shame, death, and flamboyant thieves. I never knew. I took some notes while playing the game, so I figured I would share them now.

Oh. The horror.

“We passed a grave today! I took a snapshot, because the message was a little strange, LOL. Sally and I had a great laugh about it. BTW, I’m a banker from Boston.”


“I should have known that that grave was bad news, but I realized too late. Sally’s broken her leg. Wait. Oh. Fuck. Wait, was…did I name my WIFE Sally? Or my daughter? Or …was it both? Was it actually my sister? Shit.”

“Still haven’t figured out who Sally is. I’ll try to find some way to ask her discreetly later on.”

Later that day:

Note: I was equally surprised and horrified by the suddenness of the information. There was no sadness or sympathy from that black screen. There was no funeral music. There wasn’t even another grave. Sally just died, and apparently we just threw her over on the side of the road and moved on, all with just one, single heartless tap of the space bar. Oh cruel fate, how could you take my dear wife/daughter from me like this?!

“Over the last few days, we’ve continued to find what the caption calls “Wild Fruit”.

It looked vaguely like pot, but who am I to say anything? As long as it takes the pain away.”

Things just kept getting worse too. Soon, Manny (my son/brother/nephew?) developed Typhoid. Naturally, my first reaction was to go hunting.

Disturbingly enough, apparently I am a penis shaped entity that shoots small pellets at things.

But I took down a fucking BEAR, so suck on that. (Figuratively speaking, but…well, he IS shaped like a …you know.)

“Timmy developed typhoid, probably because I let that stupid asshole Manny stay in the wagon, spreading his disease to everyone. God dammit. I hate my life.”

And to top it all off, fucking:

?!?!?!?!?)*#)$(@*)*&)@(*#@%#@

“Timmy died. I was notified in the same cold letters as before:

I’m pretty sure he was my son/brother.”

“I must have hooked up with an Asian sometime before I headed off on my adventure because I apparently had a child named Shoo, who suffered a snakebite in the middle of the trail. Life is hard.”

Finally, I can feel myself start to unravel at this taunting conversation:


“MY MISSUS/DAUGHTER IS DEAD, MOTHERFUCKER. SO IS TIMMY. AND NO ONE WANTS TO TRADE WITH ME. WHAT THE FUCK. THIS IS SHIT, OK?! WHAT MORE DO YOU WANT FROM ME?!”

In this nearly deranged state, I wander around pathetically until I meet a possessed Indian, who wants to eat my soul:

“Oh fuck.”

…Who leads me across some deadly river with ease, in exchange for a change of smallpox infested clothing. Hmmmm.

“Shoo had the nerve to develop measles the DAY BEFORE WE FUCKING GET TO OREGON.

But all is well. We’re here! LOL! <3 Wish you were here with us. Love ???”

So, did any of this sound familiar to anyone? I don’t know if it’s just me, but I have zero recollection of any of this. And what the hell was up with the thief that just randomly showed up and stole like 200 pounds of food? Was he some sort of He-Man, able to lift twice his weight?

To end this, I feel that I should have learned my lesson after playing Nanosaur again. Some things are just best left in your childhood. Enjoy the memories, and sleep easy. There’s no need to ruin a good thing, which I’m sure we’ve all done many times.

So, I’ve decided to forget what I’ve experienced two nights ago. I’m going to pretend it never happened, because nothing can taint the strange satisfaction I used to receive when I mindlessly pressed 1 at all times, because I couldn’t read anything on the screen. Nothing can ruin that, ok? Nothing.

….

Ugh.

Fucking Cheasy Peperony.