A Letter To Santa That This Kid Wasn't Expecting

T'was The Night Before Christmas…The Untold Version

T'was the night before Christmas,
And all through the pad,
Not a creature was fucking,
Not even your dad.

The Fireball was poured,
In a pint glass with care.
In hopes that J-Wunder,
Soon would be there.

The women were saddened by the ones in their bed,
They dreamt of the Ghetto Genius,
Showing up instead.

H-Bomb in her track suit,
And I in my cap,
Had just sat down,
For a dance on our laps.

When up on the stage there arose a roaring laughter,
I sprang from my dance,
To see what was the matter.

Away to the door,
I flew off like a thong,
Leaned over a trash can,
And threw up for so long.

The ass on that stage,
Of the woman so large,
Left H-Bomb and I,
With memories so scarred.

When what to my watering eyes had appeared,
Cat Woman had started
Stripping for beer!

With a little look around,
To survey the club,
I saw Anonymous,
Waiting for her with a sub.

Before I could catch him,
He took off so fast,
Down a back alley with her,
And that gargantuan ass.

From the mind of J-Wunder,
To the Ghetto Genius wall,
I got you back fucker,
By posting this all.

Happy Holidays to all,
And to all,
A drunk night.

The Reaction I Get When People See Me

Advice Column: Christmas Party Free For All

Dear J-Wunder,

Is it okay to get drunk and make out with co-workers while making an ass out of myself at my company Christmas party?  I mean, it's a free pass right?  Everyone else does it.

Sincerely,
Shameless



Dear Shameless,

No shame in your game, huh? I respect that. I also respect the fact that you are down to get down at your company Christmas party. And I'm not talking about doing the goddamn Running Man with some Moonwalking all over the fucking place, either. I'm talking GETTING THE FUCK DOWN, SON!

There are a few things you should consider before making a move on any man, woman, or inanimate object (which includes but is not limited to: blow up doll, corner of a couch, cucumber, fruit salad, writing utensil, pig in a blanket, butt plug, vibrator, etc.) while at your Christmas party this year. As some may be quite obvious, it's always good to have a refresher on certain things that may justify you wanting to do some scandalous shit while hoping it acts as a "get out of jail for free" card. Check it.

1) Is there alcohol being served? What I mean by that is...is it an open bar or BYOB? Because open bar and/or BYOB means two things: 1) Getting COMPLETELY shitfaced (while blacking out) and 2) Hooking up (this means oral pleasure and/or boning...however, you could get the double whammy and accomplish both) with some random person and/or thing that is listed above.

2) Are there any attractive people you have your eye on? I know we tend to get beer goggles at functions that serve booze, but waking up next to a very ugly, unattractive and ratchet looking motherfucker (due to blackout and absolutely no morals with a hint of desperation) the next day is not something you want to tell your mom...especially if you live with her. See, you want to tell mom, "Yeah ma, I had such a dandy time last night. Oh, not to mention, I fucked the shit out of this hot ass co-worker of mine who used a butt plug on me for the first time EVER. It was so good he banged me into unconsciousness. BIG DICK FOR THE WIN! Epic times, mom. Epic times!" Before you booze, lock in your target, that way, you don't go off course and fuck yourself by making out with someone who has a lazy eye or get so wasted you decide to dip your titties in the vegetable tray ranch dressing.

3) Will anyone of very high authority be there? Strike that...do any of these people in the position of higher authority drink? If they drink, just make sure they do some shit just as bad or maybe a step worse than what the new employee would do. Because if there is one thing I know, it's usually at company holiday parties, the two people who make the biggest asses of themselves are the big boss (because he can) and the newbie (because they don't fucking know any better). You should be in the clear of any "one-on-one" meetings the following Monday. No eye contact or regroup discussions about what happened at the shing-dig. Shit gets REAL when fools are sober and pull out their phones and start showing pics and vids. Cue awkward conversation in 3, 2, 1...

4) Are you willing to basically give yourself to this co-worker at any moment in time? Hell, and if not a co-worker, are you desperate enough to just bang yourself with the secretary's dildo in your bosses office? Look, alcohol tolerance is all over the place at these functions. So if the person you're looking to bang is wasted before you are, be ready for that drunk cock to rise and your legs to spread.  Plain.And.Simple. If you strike out, then well, either go home or use the secretary's dildo. I say that because one time, I actually caught a co-worker of mine, fucking herself with a dildo in my bosses office. Now, I don't know if the bitch lost a dare, but when I walked in on her, I just stared like a little lost puppy in a trance, as she was so into fucking herself and wasted that she didn't even notice me. Go figure the phone I had back then was a fucking flip phone that had a big ass antenna that charged me $2 a text with no camera.

AIN'T NOBODY GOT TIME FOR THAT!!!

5) Will there be food? This is crucial to parties for a variety of reasons. 1) No food plus booze = Early night for everyone except the alcoholics, 2) Too much food plus booze = Throw up city for everyone except the alcoholics, 3) Seafood plus booze = Throw up city and diarrhea except for the alcoholics, 4) No food plus booze plus booty call = Whiskey Dick a.k.a. Erectile Dysfunction except for...you guessed it...the alcoholics, 5) An even ratio of food plus booze plus booty call = A good night of riding the Pound Town Express. Unless, you find an alcoholic co-worker, then you're all fucking set!

Five things you should think about. The first four points, be VERY CLEAR about. The fifth...well, that's a toss up depending on the situation. Whatever the case, go big or go home. Fuck if you can.  Drink more if you can't. Either way, you're gonna wake up the next day and say, "What the fuck happened last night?!"

Good luck!

Merry Fucking,

J-Wunder

White Russians, Cigarettes, Mary Poppins, A Black Penis And A Close Call

Christmas Night 1998.

Since 1997, my buddies and I decided to make it a tradition that every Christmas night, they would all cruise to my house and we would all hangout in my parents garage, drink our faces off, catch up on the sluts in our lives, talk about the good times and just enjoy another year that was.

For the second year in a row, the same 4 guys cruise over to my pad and the festivities begin.

Since the guys I hung out with were like me and didn't drink until college, we do Christmas evening up right and go with White Russians as our drink of choice. Why White Russians? I have no fucking idea. Maybe because they were sweet, tasted like coffee and mind fucked us into thinking we weren't going to get wasted too fast. Who fucking knows. All I know is that we had the biggest bottle of Popov five guys and two chicks would enjoy along with some Kahlua and milk.

Drink after drink, after fucking drink...we were putting shit back like it was nobody's business. One would think for as much as four 18-19 year old kids were consuming (in the time they were doing it in), they'd be all over the fucking place...puking, passing out and shitting themselves. Ok, fast forward to about hour number five when it all started to go downhill:

1) One buddy started walking around like a baby giraffe in heels spouting off some shit like he was getting his dick sucked like Bill Clinton. Motherfucker made no sense and til this day, no one knows what the fuck he was doing. Even himself.

2) Another buddy kept saying, "Whenever I'm on fire, I STOP. DROP. AND RRRRROOOOLLLL!!!" This motherfucker did it over and over and over again. By the time he got his ass up, he was covered in motor oil and had no fucks to give.

3) The drunkest buddy was an absolute goddamn mess. Dude was white girl wasted. I'm talking puking from one end of my parents driveway to the other. Crying because he his whore ass girlfriend was fucking a high school sophomore who I think actually had a bigger dick than him. No one has confirmed this but I'm almost certain we saw him shit his pants as he just said "fuck it" and pissed himself too.

4) This guy was making out with my sisters best friend. Big ass black dude. Mouth fucking and titty grabbing a white girl who was innocent as Mary fucking Poppins. Well, so I thought...

5) Then there was me. Drunk as fuck. Could barely see. Telling everyone I loved them like family. I was so fucked up that I started to smoke my dad's cigarettes like a fucking chimney. And it was at that point when the night went from wasted, to an accident almost gone terribly wrong...

Remember how I was talking about my black buddy. Yeah, he's 6'6" and like my brother. He was making out with my sisters homegirl and those two were so drunk they really didn't care if we were watching. But like any group of friends, we didn't care and let these kids be. That was until they took making out one step further...

Drunk as shit, confused as fuck and out of sorts like Charlie Sheen on a 10 day coke binge, myself along with three of my other buddies were sitting across one another laughing about absolutely nothing trying not to wake up my parents, while trying to stay composed. It was then and only then that all four of us turn to my buddy and my sister's friend and we see him do what we never thought we'd see him do...at least in front of us.

He pulls down his pants and as he lowers his tapered ass jeans down to his knees, all you see is this little white milky hand reach into his boxers and pull out what seemed like the biggest dick any 18 year old should not own. At least not at that fucking age. FUCK NO! Not to sound all gay and shit but guys...my boy was packing some goddamn heat. Dude had a lead pipe so big, I was thinking about taking my dad's shopvac and trying to suck that shit up and kill it. It didn't look real. It looked like all those big ass black dicks you saw in old school porn films where you thought they did some type of magical film editing to make it look real when it really wasn't. This was something you thought was Godzilla's arch nemesis. 18 years old and dude was walking around with three fucking legs.

Myself along with my three other buddies faces automatically dropped. I went into immediate depression as I looked into my pants and told God I hated him and my father for giving me the "average penis" and why did the black guy have to have a penis that looked like 10 of mine. It was like my sister's friend was holding a black Louisville Slugger and she wanted us to throw her a ball.

Trying to not choke, I grab another one of my pop's smokes and light it. That's when all bets were off. Ignoring everyone that was in the room, these two start making out again and while they are doing that, she takes both hands and starts to jerk him off...dudes wang was so big she could have used two more hands to cover his shit up. Straight up.

As she's jerking him off and he's making out with her, my buddies and I get out of our chairs and begin to approach them. It was like we were going to see the Mona Lisa up close for the first time.

Right as we are about three feet away from them, my buddies and I start talking about his dick like it was some sort of mysterious fossil we just found. While we're chatting, Mary Poppins is over there tugging on his dick like she was trying to put it in a rear naked choked and put it to sleep. It was at that moment as we turned around that the cigarette in my mouth flies out and is heading straight for my boy's airport tower. 360 after 360 after 360, we watched my cigarette slowly rotate towards his wang with the tip of the cigarette cherry fucking red and ready to burn anything that crossed it's path. It was possibly the longest 5 seconds I could ever imagine.

Then it happened...

Buddy: "FUUUUUUCCCCCKKKKKK!!!! What the fuck, bro!!"

White Girl: *screams like dudes dick caught on fire*

Me: "Damn bro, I'm sorry. It just flew out of my fucking mouth. You know, if your dick wasn't so goddamn big it would have missed. Dude, where did it hit you? Is it bleeding? What the fuck am I going to tell my parents if we gotta take you to the hospital man? I burned your cock with a fucking cigarette? They will beat the shit out of us and think we are doing some weird shit to one another."

We all take a step back and my buddy (still hard and all) grabs his dong to survey the damage. Sure enough, the cigarette doesn't burn his cock but, in fact, burns a spot about half an inch from his cock.

Buddy: "J, you got lucky bro. I was about to go crazy."

Me: "I'm not the motherfucker whipping his dick out in public about to fuck some white chick on top of my parents Oldsmobile. Asshole."

As he pulls up his pants and we clear the air, it's about 3am and my sister does her sisterly duty and drives all my drunk ass friends home.

Of course, we take home my black buddy and her friend last. I'm not really sure it's payback for what I did to him, but he did make it a point to get a blow job from her in the back seat on the ride home. And let's just say, she doesn't swallow.

Oh, and if you're wondering about that burn mark by his penis...there's a scar there and he makes it a point to remind me every fucking Christmas how he got it.

Happy fucking holidays y'all!

Deck The Halls With Boughs Of Bullshit

I know what you're all thinking, "The holiday season is the best, right, J-Wunder?!" While I agree with  hearing sleigh-bells ringing, freshly fallen snow, roasting chestnuts on an open flame, the look of joy on a kid's face when opening presents, etc., etc. I want to talk about the things we all endure during the holidays in order to experience those 1 or 2 moments of sheer happiness.

So in order to keep up with the holidays (how is Christmas a little over 2 weeks away?!?!), I am going to shed some light on a few of these things you have to withstand (and many of us ignore just how awful it is) over the holiday season.

SEEING EVERY ASSHOLE YOU WENT TO HIGH SCHOOL WITH AT THE BARS

You know exactly what I'm talking about... you land at the airport or arrive after a long ass drive, spend a good 2 hours catching up with mom, and then you're like, "I need a fucking drink. STAT." So what do you do? You call your old high school buddies, and hit the local bar. And then the madness ensues. In order to appropriately paint this picture for you, I'm going to share a story that many of you may be familiar with that I'm sure will have you nodding your head and preparing yourself for what is going to happen when you hit town.


For the Nth straight year, you will be back home for the holidays and spend the next few days running into every douchebag, dumb broad and unlikeable motherfucker you ever went to high school with.

The journey home the weekend before Christmas will bring you face-to-face with countless Monkey Mouth Bitches from your past, each of whom you will probably have to engage in awkward conversation, and generally pretend to be happy about seeing again...which makes it even more fucking awkward.

It's going be a dysfunctional high school reunion. All the fuck faces from years ago will make their presence felt. Every last one of them...just as shitty and fake as ever. Why do you put yourself through this fucking misery every goddamn year?

Although you might have full intentions on staying at home with mom, pops, grams, G-Smooth (yeah, gramps wants to be called that), and other fucked up family members, you will admit after spending plus or minus two hours with them, you WILL grow antsy, borrow Uncle Steve's RV, and drive to the local pub...where bitches be running wild and old timers are still wearing letterman jackets and trading high school football stories. You know for a fact you're going to bump into at least five miserable assholes in the first 30 seconds.

What's in store is that bully from back in the day will be there. Fat fuck. And probably that one chick with hippy parents who last you heard, was giving lap dances at the homeless shelter for 3 pound hams and turkey legs. Real talk.

During this time at the local watering hole, you will more than likely partake in awkward activities, that include making small talk with several slapdicks who used to make fun of your goofy ass during your high school days, and reminiscing about the "good 'ol days" of which you were never a part of. While the consumption of alcohol will make the evening more tolerable, you are expected to leave this awful shithole dive after realizing you have absolutely nothing in common with these assholes as you did when you were a teenager.

You'll more than likely encounter that one fake bitch who will probably give you a hug like you just got done fucking in a Walmart bathroom, even though she thought you were the custodian's kid all throughout high school and didn't speak a word of English. Bring on the hugs, cunt. Bring 'em.

After leaving Shithole Magees, you will want to hit up another local asshole spot in town, where an even greater number of douchebags are expected to congregate in even higher densities and come in all forms. Good thing you have a good buzz going, right?

Fuck mouths such as the head cheerleader, the 4.8 GPA overachiever, the rich kid, the teacher's pet and the biggest cunt of all...the high school jock, should all make a nice surprise appearance.

All these bastards in attendance will look the same except for being 15 to 30 pounds heavier, and possibly sporting facial hair and really bad plastic surgery. However, that same old shit-eating grin will still be on all their faces. Surprised? Don't be.

If the last X amount of years are any fucking indication, assholes who live in the area will not be the only ones out the night before Christmas Eve. Like you who have moved elsewhere since graduating college, many high school alumni are expected to return back home from all across North America.

Mark my words that Mr. My Shit Don't Stink a.k.a. "Hey look at me with my small penis" is going to pop the fuck up and brag about his big time job as a doctor in Florida. I can already see it: 'Long days while saving peoples lives. The pay is really amazing though and I'm blessed...and rich.'

It's predicted that the attendance of so many douchebags will likely escalate to a brawl during last call, with a scuffle expected moments after the two most popular jocks in high school argue over who rushed for more TD's and had more yardage from scrimmage during senior year. Plan to avoid these scuffles but know that you will possibly have a beer bottle or two throw in the direction of your head and a slap to the face by some drunk bimbo trying to save her boyfriend from getting his ass kicked. Let's not forget the signature spilled drink all over the shirt you just purchased.

Nothing will make your night more than that one asshole who is notorious for talking a gang load of shit. The guy is two years older than all of you. He still thinks he's a hardcore gangster and he's fighting 15 year olds. Mind you, over the last decade, he's gotten his ass kicked. Once by a girl.

Although you dread such things happening, there is a flip side to these events...for instance, finding out which low life has or is having kids...

There's that one girl who is on her 4th kid now. Let's not forget to mention it's by a 3rd babies daddy. To think she wasn't a whore in high school. Oh wait...yeah she was. And apparently, still is.

You will be dreading this misled high school holiday reunion. Every motherfucker who is like you, who you were classmates with, are too.

Ho, ho, ho, motherfuckers!!!!

My +1 Experience With J-Wunder

It was a Wednesday around 3pm. I received a phone call from Mr. J-Wunder. He was at his martini “lunch” for his so-called job. Our fearless leader was rambling on about needing a date to his company Holiday Party. He said that he had not taken a date the last four years so people were beginning to spread rumors about him being gay. Keep in mind that J makes it a point to keep work and play VERY separate. Apparently, most of the people he works with think he’s actually a productive member of society. Crazy, right? I wouldn’t consider daily drinking, banging countless broads, and beating up people with a pair of shoes productive. But to each his own I guess.

Being the nice person that I am, I said that I’d go. I figured it would at least be free dinner and drinks. What woman would say no to free shit, right? I had a week and a half to prepare myself for the occasion so I primed my liver and pulled out my little black dress. J arranged a hotel room for the night since we both knew that driving would not be in the cards. I should never have let him choose the hotel, by the way. China town has some sketchy ass hotels where the dirtiest of dirty probably goes down. I’m surprised they didn’t charge him by the hour.

On the way to the party I was filled in on who everyone was that I would meet and who not to talk to. I was warned that the company owner would probably play grab ass with me which wasn’t all bad in my opinion. A possible sugar daddy should be on every girl’s life to-do list. First thing we did upon arrival was head to the bar, of course. Vodka for me, scotch for J-Wunder. There was the normal small talk bullshit and talking to people you really would rather not see outside of the office. Then I heard something I was not prepared for.

Co-worker: “Are you gonna dance battle Jamie tonight?! You kicked her ass last year!! Come on, you gotta do it!”

All I could do was imagine J drunk as shit, dancing like a spastic Carlton, but picturing himself as a suave John Travolta, hip thrusting the living shit out of his co-worker from behind. A pity winner train wreck that everyone waits to see at the yearly gathering. I was seriously looking forward to witnessing this for myself. After about eight vodka cranberries I forgot all about it. Damn drunk wandering mind. J was lookin pretty sexy though by that point. I was even willing to forgive him for introducing me as his future ex-wife to everyone. Asshole. The party started to get boring so we decided to head out and find some late night eats. As we were waiting for a cab I realized I had stolen someone’s santa hat, was carrying my shoes, and J was carrying a bottle of Kettle One that he stole from the bar. Good job, Mr. Wunder.

We headed to a thai food joint and ate like fat kids. When I came out of the ladies room, J-Wunder was nowhere to be found. Like, no fucking where. I walked outside, still nothing. I called to find out what the fuck happened and he just said, “HURRY…..LEAVE THERE NOW!!! I’m down the street waiting for you.” You know what this guy did? This asshole dined and dashed while I was taking a piss! He’s lucky I was drunk cause I forgot to be pissed for leaving me there. Well played, vodka.

On the walk back to the hotel I realized the dance battle never happened at the party. So I of course had to give J shit about being to pansy to battle that night. I was convinced that he had NO skills. Because of this, I was promised a private dance in the room. I was so ready to laugh my ass off. Let the goddamn dancing begin...

J proceeded to play the song Erotic City on his phone and sing along while slowly stripping off his clothes like a drunken Chip 'n Dales dancer. Now that I think about it, he might be hiding a past job experience from his stories. I might have to research how he put himself through college. Anyway, I was totally enjoying the show until he thought it would be a good idea to try swinging around the lamp like it was a stripper pole. The lamp shattered into a hundred damn pieces, J went flying onto the bed, and there was Mr. Wunder’s face……buried in my pink taco. I will not disclose what happened next, but I will say that all his claims about loving to please women are, in fact, true.

The next morning, I woke up to J trying to take pictures of my naked ass. I had managed to even keep the santa hat on in true Christmas spirit. This +1 experience took a naked turn for the best and one I will never forget.

Hope you all had a fan-fucking-tastic holiday season too!

Love,

RoMo

P.S. Next time J, leave the dancing to me.

He's Doing Holiday Cards Right!

Dear Santa...

As I sit in the airport terminal at LAX, watching the hustle and bustle of all the passengers scrambling to make it home to their families (about two weeks before Christmas, mind you), I try to figure out how to kill the hours before my flight. Drink? The answer is usually "hell yes," but I had a rough day yesterday where 4 different liquids were involved (Grey Goose, Jack, Don Julio & good 'ol Mr. Macallan)... Oh and how could I forget the beer? And did I mention this was before 7pm? So if I can't sit within 50 ft of the smell of booze, what better way to kill time than write a letter to Santa? I mean, someone needs to remind him of what a good little boy I've been this year. Those that know me, stop laughing. Those that don't know the guy behind who they call Anonymous, read on, you'll learn a thing or two...


Dear Santa,

I sit here reflecting on the past year since you've visited, and I start to wonder if I'll actually get a gift this year, or if a lump of coal will be the rude awakening that I deserve.

Side note: I sort of feel like I'm about to give confession, but given the fact that I haven't set foot in a church in 5 years (maybe 6), I'll instead spill my guts to you, Santa, and let you decide what to do with me this Christmas.

It's been a really good year, an eventful year, and quite honestly a blurry year.

If you ask me, "Have you been on your best behavior, Anonymous?" My answer: Probably not. But that doesn't mean I haven't done my fair-share of good deeds. I'll share a few with you, Santa:

I give money to homeless people. Sure, 9 in 10 are probably buying sex or drugs, but I think that at least I'm helping that 1 in 10 get off the streets.

I volunteered a morning of my time a few months ago to help the needy. Yes, it was also mostly get out of work. But a win-win situation for all. Don't hate...congratulate.

Also, I'm a really, really good friend. Like I will do just about anything to help a friend out. And all my friends know this. For instance, I recently drove 12 hours to drunkenly take care of a friend who had just had surgery. Another friend of mine is in a relationship that requires them to go home hammered pretty much daily... And guess what I do? I drink with them. Like shots, all the fucking time! I'd go so far to say that if a friend needed me to kill someone, I'd do it. Okay, maybe this isn't helping my case but I'd still do it. Fuck you. Kidding.

If this isn't enough, Santa, I'll compare myself to a few others sitting near me in the airport. I know, my mom taught me not to compare myself to other people, and what better way to plead my case?

FIRST- let's talk about the little whore who is sitting across from me in the lounge area. She can't be a day over 18 and is wearing enough makeup to make every member on the entire Dallas Cowboy Cheerleaders look pretty. I shit you not, she's wearing so few clothes that she looks just like she came from her night job, of tricking. I can also hear the music coming from her headphones: Rihanna - S&M. Really? Yeah, I know that song. Santa, if you don't, here is a little excerpt:

"I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it. Sticks and stones may break my bones, but chains and whips excite me..."

I mean, are you fucking kidding me, bro? And you wonder why people try to pay her for sex?? Let me guess, she used to be pretty square in high school, didn't drink or fuck, and after her first semester at Junior College, she realized how awesome the combination of sangria & cock tastes.


NEXT- Marilyn Manson's cousin, the dude wearing a black trench coat, a dog collar and black nail polish. Yeah, him. I'm trying not to make eye contact with him because I might get so scared that I'd piss myself. I don't know who told him that the goth look was cool, but it's been out since my senior year when that kid killed everyone at Columbine. I wonder how long it took him to get through security. But maybe that's why he looks so angry, I'll give him this much, I'd look pissed too if I had just received a cavity search from the huge ginger TSA agent at security. I'm very curious who is picking up this guy at the airport. If that was my son, I'd just keep driving past him at baggage claim. No joke.


LASTLY- to the man being paged over and over again because he lost his daughter. I'm sure it is a scary feeling, but if he had been watching little Angela instead of getting so SHIT-FACED at the airport bar, I'm sure his daughter wouldn't be crying for Daddy. The worst part - I'm sure she has to hangout with the huge Ginger TSA agent at security... I'm sure his hand smells like shit, even if he has taken off the latex gloves.

So there you have it Santa, I may not always make the best decisions, often clouded by booze and cat hair, but in comparison to many others out there, I really am a damn saint. And yes, I deserve presents more than these perfect strangers at LAX.

So in conclusion, I should be getting a gift this year.

Merry Christmas,
Anonymous

Holidays + The Drunk Uncle = PRICELESS

Baller on a budget

What your Christmas present says about you...

My roommate just gave me these 2 calendars for Christmas

so I am pretty sure this is how she sees me:

14 High School Classmates You’ll See Over Winter Break

Most Likely To Succeed Turned Degenerate
While growing up, being an over-achiever made this kid feel like he was king of the world. But once he moved out of the house, and didn't have his @sshole dad breathing down his neck every second, the guy just fell apart. Sure, he might have gotten into a good school, but after realizing he could do whatever he wanted, things quickly went downhill. BUY HIM SHOTS!

Popular Girl Who Still Thinks She's Special
If she's in college, she'll probably be an even bigger b*tch than she was in 10th grade, since she's had a couple more solid years of getting f*cked (over) by football players to really cement her nasty demeanor. If she didn't go to college, chances are she's divorced, with a toddler and a unhealthy fondness of white wine. You might think this makes her easier to hook-up with, but you'd be wrong. AVOID.

Bag of Bones To Black Ops
He got the sh*t end of the bully stick, constantly. It was hard to imagine he'd ever grow big enough to be anything more than hilarious butt of joke. So to come home and find him a war veteran with battle scars and 143 ways to kill you in under a 10 seconds will quickly have minding your manners. BUY HIM BEERS.

The Late Bloomer
The late bloomer just never got the memo until she was at college. Now she's through her "awkward phase," rounded out in all the right places and acquired a good a sense of humor, turning herself into some kind of dream woman capable of amazing things. BUY HER A RING.

Nerd Turned Billionaire
While you were busy getting drunk in a field, this dude was mastering code. And since then, he's built a computer program that you're too dumb to understand, sold it for millions of dollars and now spends most of his time screwing high-end Asian hookers. Show some humility, heap some praise, and pitch your million dollar idea.

Reformed Slut
She once blew three dudes in the parking lot at lunch. Now she's on her knees for a totally different reason. Dear God.

Once a Loser, Always a Loser
Not even the college experience of drugs and alcohol can bring this kid a modicum amount of cool. He's the kid who just didn't get the memo or was too lazy to do anything about it. He could just move and put this place in his rearview mirror or become Style Overhaul Brah.

Knocked Up & Wifed Up
It'll most likely be really hard to relate to what this chick (or the guy she's marrying) are getting into. Either the situation has caused each of them to sober up and assume responsibility or to completely go off the deep end in denial. We'll drink to that.

Jock Turned Cop
He messed with nerds in the hallways, now he messes with everyone on the road.

Hot Slut Who's Still Slutty But Not as Hot
I always thought taking loads to the face and throat would keep the skin and body fresh and nourished, but sometimes chicks take their looks for granted and figure 'hey, i just need to show up to get plowed'. That's totally true until you can't form words, reek of cigarettes and puke, and your muffin top pours out over your baggy sweatpants.

Style Overhaul Brah
He was once a punk, now he's preppy or vice versa. He let his hair grow out after rocking the buzzcut for his entire life. He now rocks the Ryan Dunn beard (as a tribute?). The assumption here is he was trying to not let what happened in high school happen in college. Shrewd move, but everyone knows you pissed your pants in gym class.

Hot Chick Turned Fat Pig
She had a ridiculous body in high school and could eat whatever she wanted without gaining a pound. She must've ditched the bulimia routine in college. Freshman 15? Try Freshman 50.

New Accent Guy / Girl
They study abroad for a semester and they think they're citizens. Or they go to school in the South and come back spittin' "y'alls".

The Gay Kid Finally Came Out of the Closet!
Of course, it all depends on where you went to school, but the majority of people are happy this happened. Now, instead of persecuting him or her for pretending to be someone he or she isn't, now we persecute him or her for being so over-the-top, in-our-faces with their gay pride. We get it, just chill and tell us who else you think is gay.

via - Co-ed Magazine

Merry Shitfacemas

Holiday drinking is our family’s way of saying "let's put our differences aside for the time being and drink this bottle of (insert name of alcohol here) out of coffee cups while we pretend to do other functional activities.” I have coined this joyous season “Merry Shitfacemas.” For our family this holiday season has greater importance than any other time of the year because myself, my two brothers and my dad also have our birthdays during this happy time. So not only are we celebrating the most wonderful time of the year (our birthdays) which leads to mass quantities of alcohol consumption, but then we get to throw in Thanksgiving and Christmas for the extra holiday drinking bonus. I will allow you to imagine your own wild times for the birthday festivities. Think midgets, clowns, clown midgets and mini horses. To keep my momentum and stamina going during these occasions I realized that the best course of action is to drink early and often...But allow me to elaborate on the magic that is Merry Shitfacemas.

Now that we are all older and spread out over the country we sometimes have to take our shit show on the road. The easiest thing to do is convene at Grandma’s lake house in Michigan where we have 40 + acres to bring the fuckery. For me, the beauty of Merry Shitfacemas is that it turns into a multi-state drinking bonanza, as I travel the farthest. Because of my extensive training I can usually consume the most alcohol between point A and point 7, so that by the time I get to Grandma's I am almost incoherent. My day typically starts early in Florida with an airport shot (or 3, don't judge) of Gran Marnier and some killer Bloody Mary’s, before getting on my direct flight to Detroit, MI. No layovers for me- that could lead to missed flights,pissed off parents and more drinking. Dad meets me at the airport and then we road trip the shit out of the thumb of Michigan.

My dad has been making this drive for several years (read: since before I was born) so he has a plan, a route and schedule. If you fuck with dad’s road trip schedule bad things will happen. We get to our first stop to have lunch and cocktails- all the waitresses know my dad so shit is on point, i.e. drinks are never empty. Mom is usually almost unconscious by this time and I am barely hanging in, but fighting. We have a nice leisurely lunch where I knock back Scotch and dad gets into the Belvedere. Then it is back on the road. 2 hours later we have the next stop and I am usually hammered enough to allow him to take pictures of me with dead stuffed animals. Last year we had to leave mom passed out in the car at bar two. When she woke up whilst we were boozing and realized she had been left in the car Mom was a not a happy road tripper.

By the time we actually get to Grandma’s it is dark and we are drunk. And when you are in this tiny town in Michigan you need to be drunk, because there isn’t shit else to do and the nearest bar is 26 miles from the house. You go to bed at 8, you get up and go fuck around outside in the snow until you can appropriately start day drinking;when Grandma shakes her glass and says, “who’s gonna make me a cocktail; scotch on the rocks” and the fun begins again.

In between drinking and snow games we open some presents, eat some food and pretty much drink our selves into a light coma for 3-5 days. By the time I get back on the plane to Florida my skin is a little sallow and my liver hurts. But I am full of pork goodness and fuzzy memories of another Merry Shitfacemas fill my head. The residual alcohol and warm thoughts are enough to get me through the next few days until Happy Booze Year.

Merry Shitfacemas everyone!

Tis the season to be pranking...

If office holiday party invites were honest...

Looking to top last years Holiday Party

J-Wunder's Guide to a Fun Ass Holiday Party

Holiday parties. A lot of you this year are planning to throw one. And like every party you host, you want to make sure it’s not just fun but EPIC, in a sense. So today, for those folks who are planning to throw a little holiday gathering but aren't sure what the fuck to do, grab a pen, some paper and take notes because I’m here to give you “J-Wunder’s Guide to a Fun Ass Holiday Party”.

Rule #1: Booze, Booze, Booze
I get that some of you might not drink and that’s cool. But let's be fucking real…booze makes shit a whole helluva lot more entertaining. Did you know that once the holiday season hits, alcohol sales increase by 72.6394%? Ok, that stat is a complete fucking lie but c’mon…don’t tell me for a goddamn second your alcohol intake doesn’t increase by that much (or more) once the holidays roll around? But I digress…

Booze at a holiday party is crucial. Why? Because it lightens you the fuck up. It puts those grouchy ass motherfuckers that you dread coming, in a better mood. It makes that person you’re planning to hook up with, not only look hotter, but help their morals go right out the fucking window. I mean, could you imagine how square a party would be without booze? No one would have anything good to talk about. No one could offend someone without sounding funny. No one could whip their titties or cock out on a Christmas dare…wait, what?

Please note: If you are part of the working class...please, please, please serve some good booze. Ain't no one trying to come to your house and drink Natty Light and Popov Vodka. You do that, and you'll get your ass kicked. However, if you ARE a college student, well, serve whatever the fuck you want (it's about quantity, not quality). 

Booze…serve some, drink some and get everyone shitty. If your guest can remember the following day, then you FAILED miserably.


Rule #2: Food is Mmmm, Mmmm Good
One thing a holiday party needs besides booze is food. Damn straight. No food? Have fun trying to keep guest at your pad for more than an hour, asshole. True story. Grub is important, especially when you’re serving booze. Nothing’s worse than serving a shit ton of booze and a couple goddamn cheese platters. You do that and you will see a lot of motherfuckers puking on your rug, kitchen sink, toilet, bathtub and dog. Yes, I said dog. Don’t ask…happened about 5 years ago. Not my fault they had more scotch than those piece of shit cucumber sandwiches. Just sayin’…

Anyway, no one is saying you gotta serve a turkey and shit. A good grip of appetizers should work. Taquitos, Hot Pockets, cheese platter, stuffed mushrooms…shit like that should fucking work. If you’re a lazy fuck like me and don’t want to make shit with your hands, go to Costco or Sam's Club and hit up the frozen food aisle. That place is a motherfuckers dream for holiday party apps.

Feed your motherfucking guests. If you don't two things will happen: 1) They will eat the shit in your fridge and cupboards and 2) They will steal your booze and fucking leave.


Rule #3: Music Keeps the Party Going
True story. If you have tasty booze, good food and great company…good fucking music makes the party that much better. Now, knowing this is the holiday season, you are probably asking if you should play Christmas music, right? Yes, but to a certain fucking extent. Don’t get me wrong, I love motherfucking Christmas but I don’t love hearing 10 goddamn renditions of Silver Bells. Basically what I’m telling you is that Christmas music is cool, but keep that shit limited. You know what kind of music your friends dig, so make sure your playlist is good enough to keep the party going and suits the crowd.

Ain’t no motherfucker trying to be all dressed up in cocktail attire, sipping on a martini eating a chicken skewer while listening to Marilyn Manson. Ya feel me?

Music = Dance fucking party


Rule #4: Hang a Mistletoe
Are mistletoe's gay? Not if you invite single, good looking motherfuckers. Here is one thing I learned on my path of a fucked up life: During the holiday season when people are wasted, they tend to be in good moods. Translation: Motherfuckers will make out with you at a holiday party if you have a mistletoe hanging around. They would probably make out with you regardless while trashed but, having a mistletoe makes the mood not so awkward. Don't believe me, try it. You're welcome.


Rule #5: Have Fun
Bottom line...you're hosting a party. HAVE FUCKING FUN. There have been so many times where I've been to parties where the host is an uptight assfuck (I'll admit, that used to be me). Here's an idea: Lighten the fuck up and chill the fuck out, motherfucker. Why host a party if you're gonna be all uptight and shit, right?

Party + Food + Booze + Music = Broken shit, dirty counter tops, puke stained carpet, dance party madness, randoms passed out on the couch, AWESOME NIGHT!

Realize that if your guests sense you're being an uptight little bitch, they'll leave. No one likes a Party Nazi so don't be one. Trust me, I know because I was one. So how did I snap the fuck out of it, you ask? Simple...I didn't want to be a little fucking bitch. I was cured of BITCHASSNESS. Yessss!!!


So there you have it. Five rules to follow. Were they no-brainers? Of course they were but sometimes people need some goddamn guidance. Take these tools and apply them because the last thing you need is hosting a shitty party that everyone will talk about. And we all know, throwing a shitty party is not fucking cool. AT ALL.

Tis the season motherfuckers!!!!

Holiday Lovin'

Merry Christmas to the FACE!