So Long. Farewell. Send Nudes.

The time has finally come. Ok, well, it should have came on November 8th of this year. Not gonna lie, it would be a travesty if I didn't have one last post in me to say, "Peace out, motherfuckers."

I know I've been notorious for retiring then coming back 2 weeks later. I think I did that shit 27 times in a span of 3 years. But today, it's officially official. 

For 8 years I only had one goal...to make motherfuckers laugh. Guess what?

MISSION.FUCKING.ACCOMPLISHED. 

Whether it was with my advice columns, my personal stories or some random ass list from the interwebs, what I was set out to do, I did it. And for that, I say THANK YOU to every single person who followed me and became my ride or die.

Few things I learned in my 8 years of fuckery:

1) I was an influencer before that shit ever existed.

2) Blogging was cool years ago...now, everyone wants to be a fucking blogger. BTW, some of y'all are great and some of y'all need to just stop right now because you're fucking terrible. 

3) Mommy bloggers are the most fake personas out there. How do I know? If I could only show you the plethora of emails I have that counter their posts about "how happy they are with their marriage and how much they love their kids." I got you cunts on lock and you ain't fooling me. And no, I would never expose them...I'm a dick, not an asshole. Wait, what?

4) There is only (does that even make any fucking sense?) so many times you can talk about the same fucking topic before it gets boring and fucking retarded. Yes, even my shit got boring and fucking retarded.

5) When you're at your peak of social media, everyone is on your nuts until you leave, something happens or you file restraining orders against Stage 5 Clingers. 

6) My crew is the best fucking crew. Thank you fucks for an amazing 8 years.

7) I've shit my pants one too many times as an adult and told the whole world about it. 

8) How did I survive banging all those women without getting AIDS or an STD?! #teamrawdog

9) How am I not dead from all that goddamn drinking?! I might have a fucking problem. 

10) People who say they aren't crazy, are fucking crazy.

11) Never post your cell number on Instagram when you're drunk as fuck for the world to see. Never got so many nudes from chicks and gay dudes in my fucking LIFE! 

12) Social Media is now the place for people to find validation. Three words to you people: EAT.A.DICK.

13) Humility, if shown, is a humbling fucking experience. 

14) Canadians LOVE their boy, GG. 

15) Chicks with no teeth LOVE their boy, GG.

16) To this day, females are still more honest, more blunt and more gross than dudes. XO

17) The older I get, the sexier I feel.

18) #17 is a total fucking lie. 

19) I wonder what that crazy bitch that went nuts at my NYC book signing is up to these days? 

20) I really can't believe how many times I've shit my pants as a grown ass adult. 

Thanks for laughing at me, my stories and all my posts. If it wasn't for my following, I wouldn't be here or would have lasted so long. But, like that one famous dude once said, "All great things must come to an end."

The end is here. It's today. And it's so goddamn glorious.

Much love and many thanks!

Your boy,

J-Wunder...aka Ghetto Genius

Dear Dog Lover...

Dear Dog Lover,

I thought I was done with chicks and their pets. First Cat Woman, then a tranny then back to Cat Woman. What the hell is my problem?!

I met you at a bar, back in November, right before Thanksgiving. You sat there with your friends and I noticed you staring at me. You took my breath away. Tall, brunette, sexy. I thought this was a bad dream because how could someone as beautiful as you be checking out a guy like me? I ordered an Apple Martini for you and we started conversation.

We laughed and laughed for hours on end. It was a start to an amazing night, until we got back to your place...

Hoping I would score, I was gentleman enough to not make the first move once your door opened. Guess what? You made that move and more. By the time we were both naked, we were inches from your bedroom door when I heard something.

It was barks coming from what seemed like a pack of hungry wild dogs. You opened the door and there they stood...4 big fucking dogs staring at you then glaring over a second later to show their teeth at me. You were able to calm them down and let me know I had nothing to worry about. It was obvious you were an animal lover, specifically the canine family. I love dogs too but not in such a way that it made for a memorable yet mind blowing night of "WHAT IN THE ACTUAL FUCK?!"

You didn't want to put your dogs in another room as you made them sit there to watch us get it on. Drunk, I didn't really care, however, the moaning from your dog, Astro, had me worried...for good reason.

The moment was intense. It was hot. It was really wet. I stuck my penis in you without any hesitation as I railed you like the little dog lover you are. You were moaning with such excitement that at times, I had to contain myself from blowing my load too early. That's one thing I had to concentrate on throughout our sexcapade. NOT BLOWING MY LOAD. But then within minutes of getting back on track, something suddenly happened...

As I was pounding you like one of those big-dick black guys punishing a poor Asian schoolgirl in a porno, I felt something come from behind me. To my dismay, it was your dog, Astro, mounted on top of me, with his red rocket at the tip of my butthole about to go H.A.A.M.. Startled, violated and somewhat scared, I jumped off you and threw your dog off me since it felt like he was 4 dick pumps away from blowing his baby gravy on me like I was some sort of black poodle.

At this point, you were not amused. AT ME. I mean, are you fucking serious right now, bitch?! I'm fucking you and your dog comes up on the bed to start fucking me...I throw him off me and you're mad at ME?! Bitch please. But then you apologized, told Astro to go back to his bed, so we can go back to where we left off. The only problem was that my cock was like an elephant's trunk. Solution? You decided to makeout with me again since you knew when I kissed you, I got back to hard-on status. We kissed and things were starting to go back to where we left off. Then shit got super weird and this is where I didn't know whether to stay or go...

In a transe as I was kissing you and feeling on your big ass titties, you began to moan. For minutes I felt in my heart of hearts that I was the fucking man. Then to my surprise you yell, "OH MY GOOOOOODDDDDDD! I'M FUCKING CUMMING!!!" Wait, what?!

Am I that good of a kisser and titty handler that I made you cum? Then I looked down and what the fuck do I see? But your motherfucking dog, Astro, licking your pussy. Two things: 1) How in the actual fuck do you not know a dog's down there licking your cooter and 2) How the fuck did this happen?

I threw you off with the quickness and the only thing you said was, "WHAT?! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!"

I reply with, "Me? What's wrong with me?! Bitch, you just let your dog eat you out and you came while I was kissing you and playing with your tits! Did I just double team you with your dog, Astro?! WHYYYYYYYYY GOOOOOD! WHYYYYYY FUCKING ME?!"

You: "Why you what?"

Me: "You don't get it. First Cat Woman, now you?"

You: "Cat who?"

Me: "The fat bitch whose mouth was more special than the Pope."

You: "Are you embarrassed of me?"

Me: "Are you fucking serious right now? Your fuck.ing.dog.just.ate.you.out.and.you.came."

You: "Yeah, so?"

Me: "Can I ask you something?"

You: "Of course."

Me: "This isn't the first time it's happened has it?"

You: "First time what?"

Me: "Your dog licking your snatch?"

You: "You make it look like it's bad or something. As if I'm dirty. or gross. Get over it."

Me: "FUCK MY LIFE. FUCK.MY.MOTHERFUCKING.LIFE."

You: "Did you want me to lie?"

Me: "Yeah, bitch. That would have been great."

You: "So what now?"

Me: "Well, I'm leaving and you can stay here and continue your gang bang with the dog pound."

And that was that. The moment was so awkward that I didn't even put my clothes back on in the room. I just left and changed outside without any fucks to give. Butt ass naked. Changing like I was hypnotized. Did your dog just put his dick in my butt then eat you out?

Yes. Yes he fucking did.

You know life is bad when the girl you're banging has her dog cock block you and makes her cum first.

I don't know who has more issues, Dog Lover...you or me?

Anonymous

Advice Column: Dat Ass Doe...

Dear J-Wunder,

First of all, big fan. Been following you for about 3 years now and can't get enough. Even bought your book which was freaking hilarious. Thanks for the daily laughs. 

So here's my situation - I've been dating this girl for about 3 weeks now and things are good. She dope, super chill and I enjoy my time with her. Well, the other night, we were getting down and dirty and since we were both pretty buzzed from our night out at the bar, I decided to get a little freaky. I go down on her and eat the vagina like it was a box of bagel bites. I love her ass so I decide to go from the front to the back and what happened next was shocking. As I'm going to lick her butthole, I feel something. with my tongue. At first I thought it was something like lint then I went at her booty again and that's when I realized that this chick has a hairy asshole. Like, hair like a dude has hair. Disgusted, I excuse myself to the bathroom and begin to puke. I was so embarrassed that I didn't know what to do so I left. 

I like this chick and we've chatted via text since the incident. I told her I wasn't feeling well and blamed it on the booze, when really, I can't stop thinking about her having a hairy asshole. How do I tell her nicely to shave it? Is that rude? What do I do? 

Appreciate your advice,

Hair Ain't Fair



Dear Hair Ain't Fair,

Damn, dawg...what the fuck did I just fucking read right now?!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

I'm sorry man, but I read this about 4 times at my desk and literally couldn't stop laughing. You've got to be shitting me right? Anyway, you need help and came to the right place. Have a seat, grab some paper, a pen and let's get started, shall we?

I've been where you've been and let me tell ya, it's pretty fucked up. Actually, it's beyond fucked up. I mean, there you are, getting it on, going down on a chick who has a freshly fucking shaved hoo-ha. Licking that poon like it's the last ice cream cone on earth. She's moaning, groaning and totally into it. You're loving life and think whatever you do down there, it's gonna make her feel amazing. Doesn't matter either...eating the poon while fingering her. Eating the poon while fingering her and tickling her cinnamon ring. Hell, eating the poon and giving her the shocker...no matter what it is, the thoughts going on in your head as she wants more of it, you know things can't and won't go wrong. Then it happens...

You get brave as fuck and decide, "I'm gonna toss this bitches salad." Even if you toss it with light dressing. Don't matter. Salad shall be tossed and appetites will be fulfilled. As you gently creep toward her balloon knot, that rush of excitement and a bit of nerves sinks in. It's like you have this conversation with yourself that kinda goes like this:

"Welp, here we go. I'm gonna lick her asshole like a dog licking peanut butter off my balls. Man, I hope and pray to God she didn't take a dump before we got naked. Damn, what if she did and has a dingleberry hanging out there or leftover toilet paper just chilling? Aaaahhh man, fuck that. No way. This bitch got a nice ass booty so there's no way she leaves her junk in the trunk all fucked up. Time to eat that booty like some groceries..."

Pumped up and horny as fuck, you dive in...your tongue unravels and at first touch, you feel something but ignore it. Then you go deeper into the black hole. Something isn't feeling right. Wait, is that...nah. Then you keep licking hoping what you're feeling isn't what you're really fucking feeling. Oh, fuck no. That's not. No fucking way. For the love of Jesus the Gardener...

This bitch has a hairy fucking butthole.

I just licked a hairy butthole.

One that is not only hairy but hairier than your OWN fucking butthole.

"I didn't even know chicks had hairy buttholes?!"

Well my friend, welcome to the world of motherfucking life.

We can tackle this problem 100 different ways, however, we won't because not that many motherfuckers have that much time. Just know this, a chick with a hairy butthole who knows that they do in fact have a hairy butthole, is plain and simply, fucked up. If I were in your shoes, I probably would have puked while licking her butthole because knowing my sorry ass, I would have gotten some of that anal hair all up in my teeth (bc when I get into it, I mean, I really fucking get into it, dawg). It would have been bad news...all the way around. But luckily for me, it wasn't me. I've been in your situation and let me tell you something, that shit wasn't right. Did it make me feel like she was less worthy? Fuck no. Let's not be stupid people. C'mon now!

Listen, if the bitch is that on-point and the only thing hanging you up is her hairy butthole, you can do one of two things:

1) When you are down there next time, facing your demons, eat her asshole like a Olive Garden house salad with unlimited breadsticks and surprise that ass by tugging on those goat's-eye lashes, son! Make her wonder, "What the fuck was that?! Ouch...did he just pull the hair around my anus with his teeth? OMG, I can't believe he's tossing my salad when I have hair down there." Trust me, give her a reason to feel insecure and she'll have that shit gone by time she makes you breakfast in the morning.

OR

2) Just tell the broad, "Hey honey, don't get mad but, do you mind shaving, waxing, or doing something with that hair you got surrounding your booty hole? It gets in the way when I toss that salad. I don't like string beans in my food, girl. Thanks." She'll probably knock your ass out for telling you this, then dump you, but hey, look at it this way, you saved the next guy the horror of braiding her shit with his teeth.

Then there's actually a third option:

3) Stop eating, playing, tickling or lightly grazing her butthole. I know you love the booty like yours truly, but man, pussy feels and tastes much better. Plus, what if she farted on your tongue, bro? Do you know how fucked up that would be? Better yet, what if she had Mexican food and totally had a pinto bean just chilling there? Unless you're planning on making a tostada down there, that shit ain't the fucking business.

It's not rocket science. Stick with your girl and use one of these three options. Oh, and stop being a pussy. A little hair never hurt anybody. Well, unless it make that shit smell like an armpit. Then that's when you choke a bitch...and run.

Bye Felicia,

Ghetto Genius

Advice Column: The Power Of The Nut

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Leave Richard Sherman The Fuck Alone

For the past 5 days, it's no secret what sports fans have been talking about around the water cooler and every goddamn social networking outlet:

RICHARD SHERMAN.

You know, the bad ass, all-pro cornerback for the Seahawks who made the touchdown saving play against the San Francisco 49ers to get their asses to the Super Bowl. Yeah, that fucking guy. The dude who looks like Busta Rhymes and Booker T.

Everyone who is anyone has read article after article on his post game interview with Erin Andrews and all the shit that went down with him and Crabtree. Anything sports related, there is something about him. Good or bad. Richard Sherman is the talk of the town. Especially to those hardcore Niner fans and everyone who was rooting against the Seahawks that Sunday.

I'm not going to sit here and argue with anyone or repost some bullshit about how he's not a thug from Compton, CA or graduated from Stanford University with a 3.7 GPA. If you're reading this right now, you've already read all that shit about him and everything that goes along with it.

What I'm here to talk about is how everyone who is hating on this guy needs to leave him the fuck alone.

You know, as a die hard Raiders and Lakers fan, I love sports...OVERALL. There are so many teams I hate as well as individuals. But at the end of the day, being a fan I can appreciate talented players and teams. I mean, if you were to ask me to write a book on the Pats/Raiders "tuck rule" game, that shit would be as long as a book on the history of women and what the fuck goes on in their goddamn minds daily. That game was probably one of the worst days of my life and the start of my hatred for Tom Brady and the New England Patriots. But I digress...

The one thing that hit a nerve with me regarding this whole Sherman debacle was the fact that people actually called this dude "classless". Are you fucking kidding me?! Dude goes on a tirade (which by the way, could have been a thousand times worst considering how amped up he was) on how he's the greatest, Crabtree is basically an awful receiver and we go and crucify the guy. For telling us his opinion while being all loud, adrenaline crazed and fucking pumped on national television. Really people? Really?

For those of you who don't know, during the NFL season, I work for the Oakland Raiders. Being there for 7 seasons, I will tell you that I have heard worst shit coming out of players mouths directed towards one another and to fans than what I heard from Richard Sherman. But we want to talk about classless?

Muhammad Ali, Floyd Mayweather, Deion Sanders, Terrell Owens, Rasheed Wallace, Michael Jordan, Gary Payton, Pedro Martinez, Bill Romanowski, Reggie Miller, Charles Barkley, Mike Tyson, Shannon Sharpe, Larry Bird...these are some of the biggest trash talkers pro sports has ever seen. On and off camera, these guys said what was on their mind and had no fucks to give. EVER.

Again, are you fucking kidding me about Sherman? The shit this guy said doesn't even compare to the list above. Matter of fact, I wouldn't even call it trash talk when you put him up against these guys I've listed. And for those who know this list and have seen these athletes run their mouths, you know Sherman's outburst was probably mediocre at best. Real talk.

As fans and people who have played the game, we all need to realize something...it's a game. A physical game. An intense, I'm gonna make you feel it tomorrow, kinda game. This isn't a game for pussies. These guys are out there to hurt each other for 60 goddamn minutes then afterwards, tell one another "Hell of a game, man." Isn't that what Sherman did? According to him being mic'd up on Sunday against the Niners, he sure did. But hey, fuck him, right? Classless piece of shit. SMH.

You know what I find to be classless, people? Classless to me are those Seahawks fans who threw food at Bowman being carted off after a great play. Classless to me were Denver fans throwing snowballs with batteries in them at Raiders players during a Broncos home game some years ago. Classless to me was the brawl at the Palace when shit got insanely crazy when the Pacers and Pistons went ape shit on the court and in the stands. But one guy says some stuff in an aggressive but non-explicit manner and he's classless?

GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE.

You know what I find funny, is that in baseball, when a pitcher intentionally tries to bean a batter it's considered "retaliation". They aren't considered dirty, classless or thugs because for some reason, "it's part of the game". It's an unwritten rule with pitchers to show they have their teammates back. Think about that people. Some pitchers intentionally try to throw a 80-100 mph fastball at a player because they are retaliating. But you don't see every fucking media outlet call these guys "classless" or label them as something negative to the point it becomes this huge controversy. Just like hockey when fools fuck each other up. So why...why are we crucifying a guy for making a good play, calling himself the best and calling a guy out? Because he's black and from Compton, CA? Because if that's the case, I have lost all hope in humanity. And motherfuckers are ignorant and stupid. Period.

Earlier this week, The Huffington Post wrote a really great column on what we've learned through this whole Sherman debacle and if there's one thing that I wanted to point out from that column was this:

"Last night, when Richard Sherman went on his rant to Erin Andrews, most of America thought they were learning about the arrogance of another NFL player. But in reality, what Richard Sherman did was teach us about ourselves. He taught us that we're still a country that isn't ready for lower-class Americans from neighborhoods like Compton to succeed. We're still a country that can't decipher a person's character. But most of all, he taught us that no matter what you overcome in your life, we're still a country that can't accept someone if they're a little louder, a little prouder, or a little different from the people we surround ourselves with.

In the words of the great Richard Sherman, there is only one question: You mad, bro?"

We are so quick to judge people for their actions, especially when under the spotlight. I am guilty of this too. But let's wake the fuck up and think. I know some folks don't give two shits about the Sherman ordeal and some who can't shut the fuck up about it. Mainly, Niner fans who aren't going to see their team go to the Super Bowl and people who hate the Seahawks. You mad, bro?

Remember y'all, it's football. You think guys are out there giving one another hugs and crying after they get hit after every play? Fuck no. These guys are playing for their team, their teammates and trying to get to the big dance...regardless of what you want to believe. Shit talking or not you're never going to change an athlete for who they are. Especially people like Richard Sherman.

And if you're still upset about trash talking another athlete on national television, then you better hate one of the greatest boxers of all-time, Muhammad Ali:

The 16 Worst Types Of Selfies

1. The Gym Selfie (Because the checkin isn’t enough.)

2. The Pet Selfie (If you want to post a picture of your pet, post a picture of your pet.)

Unless this happens, then it’s ok:

3. The Car Selfie AKA The Seatbelt Selfie (You LITERALLY got in the car and thought, “I look so good today, I better let everyone know before I put this thing in drive and head to my shift at the Olive Garden.”)
If you can combine the Seatbelt Selfie with the beloved Shirtless Selfie like this unattractive fella below, you..are…GOLD.

4. The Blurry Selfie (Why?)

5. The Just Woke Up Selfie
Yeah right you just woke up.

6. Or even worse, the Pretending to Be Asleep Selfie. (We know you’re not asleep, asshole. You took the damn picture.)

7. The Add a Kid Selfie (Extra points for a C-section scar.)

8. The Hospital Selfie (A rare gem. The more tubes you have hooked up to you, the better.)

9. The “I’m On Drugs” Selfie (This looker below also qualifies as the Look At My New Haircut Selfie.)

10. The Duck Face Selfie (Hey girls. This doesn’t make you prettier. It makes you look stupid and desperate. If that’s what you’re going for, carry on.)

11. The Pregant Belly Selfie (Send this to your family and friends, not the entire Internet.)
And yes, that’s a pregnant belly duck face selfie. It’s the unicorn of awful selfies.

12. The “I’m a Gigantic Whore” Selfie

Nice phone case, by the way.

13. The “I Have Enough Money to Fly On an Airplane” Selfie (AND I own earbuds.)

14. The 3D Selfie. (It takes talent…along with class.)

15. The Say Something That Has Nothing To Do With Anything Selfie (You had a great night? Oh.)

16. The “I Live In Filth” Selfie (We all make messes, but if you’re going to post your living quarters on the World Wide Web, pick up your damn room.)

via - Witty and Pretty

THE DUMBEST AD AGENCY APPLICATION OF ALL TIME

via - These Fries Are Good

Facebook or Sex?

When posed the question, "what would you rather live without for one full week: sex or Facebook...", one might believe that it is a simple answer. Turns out that 1 in 5 woman might not agree with what you think the answer might be.

The women's magazine, Cosmopolitan, polled 2,000 readers about what they would be willing to give up for seven days; sex, television, their computer, texting and, of course, Facebook. While 20 percent of the responses claimed that they preferred keeping Facebook rather than sex, it was also shown that 57 percent and 50 percent refused to give up their computer or cell phone for intimate relations. I guess that we do live in a generation where technology rules.

This particular scenario has been asked multiple times recently as earlier this month, TeleNav claimed that 1 out of 3 respondents would prefer to go without sex than their mobile phone, and the vast majority of this number were women. This is a little more understandable considering that 2 out of 3 respondents also stated that they sleep with their smart phone next to them. Being disconnected with the world and technology is one thing, but giving up sex and intimate relationships before Farmville, posting on friends walls or updated your status is something totally different.

What can be the cause of this? Well, scientists have found that Facebook and other online interactions can release a hormone that is also released during orgasm which often gives people the feeling of falling in love and simulate the love making experience. After that finding, it doesn't seem so shocking that one in five women would go without sex for a week if they had to choose between a hot date versus status updates. Guaranteed satisfaction. This also begs the questions if whether theses women are single or already in a committed relationship. How often are they actually having intimate relationships with the opposite sex? If it's something that only happens once a week, for them, it may be worth it.

On the other hand, maybe this is a sign us guys need to get their act together if social media and women's online relationships are more important and than them having the real thing. Who knows, but I'm sure that this isn't then end of this type of research.

via - Cosmo

Thank you, Boulder, Colorado

As I sit here really fucking intoxicated, I thought it would be best to try and tell you fuckers how my trip to Boulder, CO went. Two words: FUCKING AMAZEBALLS!

Look guys, I can't lie. I LOVE traveling. Even more, I love traveling when I get to go to a great city. Maybe I think Boulder is great because I'm still shit faced as I'm writing this...who knows? In any event...fuck...I'm sooooo drunk still guys. I think I told 8,000 people I loved them last night. What was I saying? Oh, yeah...no fucking clue.

I'm here for work. Yesterday I came into my vendor's office thinking, "Here we go with some bullshit blah, blah, blah...I'm just gonna Facebook all day and harass my friends via IM." Well #1: Facebook was blocked at this office. My apologies for not being able to communicate with you fuckers all day. Apparently when that happens, I get more fans and hits on my blog...hmmmm. #2: No clue what to write for #2 because like I said, I'm sooooo fucking drunk right now. Jesus fucking Christ, I'm really fucking drunk. A-MAYZ-BALLS!!!!!

So lunch time rolled around yesterday and the question was asked to me from the Account Manager, "Hey, do you drink beer?" My response, "Are you fucking shitting me girl? Uhhhh...fuck yeah I drink fucking beer!" True story. Then off we went to a place called the "Pump House". Lets just say, I drank my lunch...

6:45pm...

A few co-workers of mine, who went to CU, suggested to go to a place called "Rio Grande". Only because they know I LOVE to drink and this place "apparently" has a 3 drink max on Margarita's because they are sooooo fucking strong. I love a goddamn challenge and this was one I was willing to accept. Shiiiiit...especially if my vendor is fucking paying for it, right?

Bottom line, I drank three of these so-called "strong margarita's" and was unable to order a 4th. Lucky for me, the other 4 people I was with offered me two more drinks that they didn't want. Conclusion: YEAH BITCH...I'M STILL DRINKING!!!! I pound #'s 4 and 5 and we head the fuck out.

Shooters (the bar with the mechanical bull):

So here I am...at this place at 8:30pm. The bar is dead as fucking shit. However, dead bars equal one thing - DRINKS ANYTIME I WANT, WHEN I WANT. 5 of these bitch ass margo's in, I decide to order shots of Jameson and a few Jack 'n Cokes (Diet Coke actually...don't laugh...gotta watch my figure assholes). Drink after drink, shit was going down way too smooth. And it being a Thursday night in a great college town the hot ass bartender tells me, "Hey guy, it's 1 dollar everything tonight including mechanical bull rides and also there is a bikini contest...if you're still around, please vote for me." Ummmm bitch...you had me at 1 dollar everything!!!!!!!

No need to get into some boring shit (great reason to not type because I'm still fucking wasted) but, I basically drank everything under the sun. Shots, cocktails and beers. It was so lovely. By 10pm I was trashed (I think) and asked one of the hot ass bartenders if I can be a guest judge (you know, since I'm from California) for the college night bikini contest. And by the powers that be, they said, "SURE...you're hot and we'd like for you to be a judge." I was kinda floored by this (in reality, I totally got a fucking drunk boner and didn't want to leave the area I was standing in) and like a pussy, bailed out and said, "You know what...I can't." I know...I'm a fucking vagina. Thanks for reminding me.

Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah, I got trashed. So as the night went on, the drunker I got. Realize, when you're not paying for shit, you'll drink more and act a fool. That I did. Well, not really. Shit, did I? Anyway...

There was a point in the night that this place got fucking PACKED. Mind you, I'm 32 years old. I graduated from college 10 fucking years ago. Did I care that I was this old ass man in this young ass bar? FUCK NO! Good thing I didn't give two fucks because man...there was some beautiful mother fuckers out...specifically two cougars. Now, were they really cougars? I have no fucking clue. I've been drinking for hours and couldn't tell sugar from shit...so for the sake of the argument, lets just say they were. They cruise up next to me and my peeps at the bar and I think the conversation went down like this:

Me: "Hey ladies, it's a lovely night tonight...could I buy you two a drink?"

Cougs: "It is a lovely night but our nipples are hard cause that wind is picking up. Sure you can buy us a drink."

Me: "Wow...I couldn't tell you had diamond cutters...but now that you say that, you're right...your fucking nipples could definitely cut some glass. What's your poison?"

Cougs: "You have no filter, huh? That's cute. We'll have some lemon drops."

Me: "Filter? What's that? Lemon drops it is."

Cougs: "So where you from?"

Me: "California ladies and tonight I want to ask you two beautiful broads one question...would you like to do the nasty? On that there bull over there?"

Cougs: "Are you fucking serious?!"

Me: "As fucking cancer baby."

Cougs: "Hell yeah!"

FACT: This story is completely false. I blacked out by bikini contest time.

I have no fucking clue what the fuck happened. All I know is that I woke up with one shoe on, boxer briefs holding a 5 dollar bill. Please don't ask...I have no fucking clue. Oh, and how I had one shoe on with just underwear leaves me fucking speechless.

My point is I got fucking drunk. And didn't pay for shit. Boulder, thank you for making me feel young again and giving me a hangover I will not regret. I'm soooo fucking trashed right now I can't even think. I don't think this story made sense but ask me if I give two shits?

Next stop...Las fucking Vegas. Pray for me...I'll need it.

Fuck you Starbucks "Regulars"!!!

I hate Starbucks. I hate everything about those sons of bitches. More importantly, I hate those goddamn regulars at Starfucks. Oh, you fuckers know exactly what I'm talking about, so don't sit there like you don't know what the hell I'm talking about. Know what I'm fucking talking about? Wait, what?

These "Regulars" come in 3 different types. All types that you've probably seen. Need something a little more goddamn specific, well here you go:


Meet Joe Black:
Everyday this fucker walks in and orders one Venti Black Coffee and a pastry. Simple right? Fuck no. Why? Well, for some strange reason, Mr. Plain Black Coffee fuck face, thinks it's ok to have a 10 minute conversation with the goddamn cashier every morning. Hey asshole, did you notice the 10 other people behind you? No one gives a shit about your goddamn weekend at the lake let alone how your wife is fucking your son's best friend. Just because you spend $3 a day here, doesn't give you any right to think it's a fucking therapy session with the fat ass barista, who in fact, is fucking 20% retarded and drools when pronouncing her fucking "S's" jerkoff. Stop this shit.

Need some help? Here's a fantastic fucking idea dip shit: Fuck your wife more than once a year so she can stop cheating on you with Tiny fucking Tim, or jump in front of a goddamn bus and hope it kills you. For fucks sake, grab your shit and go mother fucker. This ain't church and I don't see a goddamn confession booth. Dick.


The Special Orderer:
Three words: FUCK THESE PEOPLE! Every fucking time they set foot in a Starbucks be ready for them to order some shit that takes 10 minutes to explain, and 20 minutes to make.

Can someone tell me what the fuck is a Non-fat, Soy Latte Latte, with 1/3 of whip, 1/4 shot of caramel, 3 ice chips, a splash of vanilla (but the real shit, not that fake shit), extra hot with a blah, blah, blah...SHUT THE FUCK UP ASSHOLE! Who the fuck orders all that and knows if all that shit is actually in there? How bout I take your cup, pour some milk in it, then take a fat shit in there? Not only will it be extra fucking hot, dick fuck, but your drink will come with a free fucking brownie and some corn. Get the fuck outta here you special ordering mother fucking fuckety fuck. You're ordering coffee like you're ordering shit for a goddamn bridal registry. I bet you masturbate to songs by Bette fucking Midler.


I'm not sure what I want:
Who goes into a coffee shop, like a goddamn Starbucks, and doesn't know what the fuck they want? These assholes. It never fails...they walk in, browse the menu for the 15 minutes while in line, and when it comes time for them to order, you hear these words..."Hmmm, I'm really not sure what I want. What do you suggest?" Are you fucking serious right now you stupid fucking cunt? I have an awesome suggestion: How bout you get your ass out of the fucking line so I can order some goddamn coffee you fucking douche? How bout that? Better yet, how bout you take one of those bananas they have sitting near the cash register and shove that up your ass? It should help you think better. Twat.

Give me a fucking goddamn break right now. 15 minutes in line and you don't know what the fuck you want to drink?! Bitch, it's coffee. This isn't a fucking 9 course meal. Hell, this ain't even fucking Denny's. Order some shit, and shut the fuck up. Please. Cunt.


Three types of "regulars" that get me going. Now, you're all probably wondering, if I hate Starfucks so much, why do I keep going back? Well assholes, if you must know...I'm fucking the manager from there and I get free coffee and breakfast sandwiches. So there. Fuck you!

Time to get me a Non-fat, Double Mocha Frappuccino, no whip. Later fuckers!

5 Reasons NOT to Give a Bear a Handjob

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3 TyPeS oF CrAzY

She's sad that your ass is about to be sliced and diced

You know what? Bitches are fucking crazy. Not all bitches though. Just some. Like 65% of females. Big fucking number right? Damn straight. Before I start my sermon, I want you to realize, that not only are women fucking crazy, but dudes are too. The difference? Bitches do things that are a bit fucking extreme. For example, kill a mother fucker in their sleep with an ice pick.

Now, now...some of you are ready to grab a knife or a bat and hunt me down...so before some of you cunts do that, calm the fuck down, grab some goddamn wine and chill the fuck out.

Mr. Wunder's here to let everyone know which types of females can get a little insane from time to time. Wait, which types? There are types, J? Fuck yeah there are. So sit back, relax and get ready for: J-WUNDER'S CRAZY BITCH BREAKDOWN, BREAKDOWN, BREAKDOWN...


I Want Your Money Crazy: You ever watch Dateline on a Friday night around 9pm? You know...where there's always a murder mystery about how some dude "mysteriously" fucking died and they can't find his fucking body...anywhere? Oh, and no one knows where their goddamn killer is either? Meanwhile, back at the fucking ranch...the newly widowed wife is rolling around butt ass naked in a life insurance policy worth millions...sucking the neighbors cock for diamond necklaces and sipping on Mint Julips. Leave it to a crazy bitch, more than likely a honky, to do some shit like that and get away with it. You're probably asking, well why couldn't a female that was Hispanic or African American get away with it? You wanna know why?

They ain't white and Johnny fucking Cochran is dead.

You connect "murder accusation" with a Mexican or African American...one word: GUILTY. With no need of evidence because they know your ass is broke...and unless your name is Jennifer Lopez or goddamn Tootie from Facts of Life, you don't even know what $1,000's looks like. Fucking white people. Ya'll got a good fucking life.


I Love You Crazy: Ever watch Fatal Attraction? Glenn Close was a crazy cunt, right? You have yourselves a chick that you could shoot 50 times in the body and face and will not...I repeat, will not fucking die til you know, she's yours...FOREVER.

Look, I've dated a lot of fucking broads, but none stood out like some of these crazy twats. You could be 2 weeks into a relationship and guess what? This bitch will LOVE YOUR ASS...two fucking weeks. Don't be surprised if you start receiving Bridal Magazine and Kids 'R Us Catalogs once a month. Once you stick your dick inside that slippery vagina, you're royally fucked my friend. Wanna avoid meeting some gals folks too soon? Don't date those crazy "I love you two weeks in" bitches. If you do, just know that whatever you believed in, doesn't fucking exist anymore. If you don't put on the afterburners after a 1/4 mile head start, you will be with this crazy bitch forever.

Oh, you're Jewish? Not anymore mother fucker...welcome to Christianity. You don't eat meat? Fuck that shit, you eat bacon and her pussy 4 days a week, hell, you eat bacon out of her pussy. You're a jeans and t-shirt guy? No you're not...from now on, Dockers and Ralph Lauren button-ups. You don't drink beer, you drink Apple Martini's. You don't spread eagle, you cross your legs like a goddamn fag. Hey I get it, these bitches are crazy. So run mother fucker. Run.


One Night Stand Crazy: This has to be one of the most dangerous bitches you will ever encounter. Hey, we all love to fuck. Some more than others. But when you run into a girl that doesn't do "one night stands" and the only time you fucked her was a "one night stand"...head for the border asshole because you will not be able to escape. Real talk.

I don't know what it is with these chicks but they are by far the craziest bitches in the world. Why you ask? I have a few reasons:


1) Your dick must have been fucking SU-PERB and you made her cum for the first time...EVER. You broke the code...you my friend, hold the key to what she wants. FOREVER. Congrats on having an amazing cock, because you're more than likely never going to fuck anyone else again.


2) She was a virgin and one random Saturday night she said, "Fuck it. I'm down to bone tonight." And just your luck, you were able to show her that she could fit 8 inches of man meat all the way down to her sternum like a goddamn circus freak and fuck like she's been working in an Asian Massage Parlor since she was 15. Word of advice: becoming a virgin surgeon backfires 81% of the time.


3) She believed every bit of bullshit you were saying just to get in her pants. Hope it was worth it buddy because she's introducing you to her family next weekend. Across country.


A majority of women just don't throw their pussy out there like it's a goddamn 4 'o clock snack. Ok, yes they do, but they don't expect themselves to be spreading eagle three hours later saying, "Fuck me harder...finger my ass. Punch me, then choke my tits." Ooops...that's for another entry.

Like I was saying, they test the waters but find themselves in the situation where you're basically to blame if you end up fucking them. How does that work? I don't fucking know. I just run and give them the wrong number to call when I find myself in that dilemma.

I learned that technique after one bitch tried to run me over with her car. Apparently, she says I took her virginity. I say she was on her period. But hey, poppin' cherries, breaking hymens, same diff, right?. Regardless, the bitch was fucking crazy. But I digress...

These bitches are head cases and will find you if you try to hide. What's that? On Facebook? You're fucked. Got a cell? You're fucked. Live anywhere in the U.S.? You're fucked. Didn't use a condom when you banged her? You're super-duper fucked. Always remember, if a woman lays her force field on you and you break those boundaries as well as her vagina, you better fucking go kill yourself before this bitch finds you and does shit to you that they do to prisoners at Guantanamo Bay.


So there's a little appetizer into the world of the first 3 types of crazy bitches that can be identified. Are there more? Of course asshole, that's why I said, appetizer. Now how soon you get to hear about the others, is up to me I guess. So be patience and good things will come. I hope you took lots of notes and made sure that if you run into any of these types of crazy bitches, just remember: I fucking told you so. (and don't give them my number)