You Are My Facebook Friend And I Think I Hate You!

 

So I am pretty sure I have  “Self-Triggered”  myself over the implied meaning behind your last Facebook post. Therefore I have written this ridiculous post as a response, tagging you, so that your spouse, your drama loving friends, your boss and anyone else who would bother taking the time to read random Facebook responses of more than ten words will all be briefed on the fact that I am extremely pissed off by what I think might be the implied meaning behind your last Facebook post.

I will admit that with everything that is going on in our country I have been looking for any reason to target someone on social media and unleash holy hell on them, even at times going to the point of egging people on by calling them Commies and Un-American pieces of shit, in hopes of causing them to unleash a Leftist diatribe on me, that way I would look justified for going off on them. Again, I blame this current unstable thinking of mine on the potent combination of adverse weather; the current state of American politics; and the plot twists in this season of Game of Thrones. Nevertheless, because it is out of my power to change any of those, I have chosen to assume that your last Facebook post has a hidden implied meaning and therefore place my anger squarely on your shoulders my Facebook “Friend.”

In fact, even though we have known each other since our days in High School, I hereby disown you entirely. Later today, after I have read all of the responses that our mutual friend Tonya will post to this tirade, and pose a few rhetorical questions and logical fallacies in response, I will destroy all reminders that our lives have ever intersected in any way. If this means burning my copy of our high school senior yearbook, changing my son’s middle name, and serving our parish priest with a cease-and-desist order so that he no longer asks me how you are, so be it. What I think you may have implied in your post is more upsetting than doing all of these things. You Sir, are dead to me.

The depth and vigor of my response may be surprising to you, especially since I have entirely and completely misinterpreted what you wrote, failing to grasp the tone, substance, and point of your post. Yet I hope you will understand that in these trying times, it is extremely important…nay, it is of utmost importance!  That I be allowed to jump wildly to a conclusion that is not supported by the facts in any way. Further, instead of being abashed by Tonya’s replies, which will point out that I am  “completely wrong”  and possibly “did not read the status the whole way through”  and might even be  “in need of some serious downtime, like, get offline, friend-o,”  I intend to use them as further proof that everyone is against me in every way and that I have nothing in common with any other human being on this planet. I will then post a meme quoting the great Abraham Lincoln.

That I will try to connect your post to my growing concern about my ability to protect my children’s health and well-being (emotional, mental, and physical) must be allowed without comment, at least if you hope that we can ever be friends again … which we cannot, at least until a year goes by, and Facebook shows me this posting as a memory. Then, I’ll re-read your original status, and it will make me chuckle, because now I will finally get the joke, and then I’ll realize, Oh, Lordy, I completely got the whole thing wrong last year, and I’ll wonder how I could have ostracized one of my oldest and dearest friends even to the point of burning my National Honor Society pin because we were inducted together in our junior year (and which, by the way, was not easily set on fire, so it ended up burning me pretty badly on my right finger in a way that still hurts from time to time). Full of remorse, I will reach out to you to say I’m sorry, and you’ll be like, “Well, everyone was crazy at that time because of the president,” and I’ll say, “I’m uncomfortable with you using the adjective ‘crazy’ so cavalierly,” and you’ll say, “But seriously, weren’t you crazy?” I will really want to push the point about the importance of thoughtful language choices, but I won’t. I’ll decide to just let it go, and we’ll grab a beer at Village Inn Pizza  just like we used to and things will almost be back to normal because a relationship based on trust and loyalty can withstand even my needing to unleash holy hell so badly I kinda deliberately misunderstood your harmless Facebook post.

But! In the meantime, we’re all stuck here in this miserable cesspool that is the current epoch in American history, so I’ll conclude this onslaught by saying that I have never been so outraged as I am by my partial reading of your post and I wish you ill, based on the extreme hurt you have not actually caused me, but which I caused myself by wildly misunderstanding your post.

In conclusion, I’d also like to take this opportunity to blame your Facebook post for the fact that I will be a little brusque with my children tonight, and that I’ll be upping the stakes on my commute to the gym by driving 5 miles over the speed limit, because I already suspect, as I near the end of this tirade, that writing this is actually not going to make me feel better in any way at all.

Now that I am done, I see that it did not. I blame you…Honestly, you are a horrible friend.

Dear Monday Afternoon Nap…I Miss You!

Dear Monday Afternoon Nap,

I am pretty sure it was twenty two years ago when we first met. It was a rainy October afternoon, I remember I had a lot to do that day but you showed up and changed my life for the better. You were a wonderful ray of sunshine on that rainy day, a respite from the challenges I faced that Monday in October…You totally changed my outlook, you left me refreshed, mind, body and spirit.

But I have been in shock, perhaps a little disheartened these past few Monday’s when you haven’t shown up, did you forget about me? Did you have something better to do? Maybe you simply moved on to a better place, if that is the case I have no doubt you will be welcomed with open arms by your new family, maybe they are unemployed, or have a new baby, or a kitten that is wearing them down. Regardless of where you land I want you to know how much you have meant to me over the years.

I will never forget the time when my cat and I cozied up to read my new book  “Winning at life, even though life is kicking your ass”  that I had just gotten earlier in the day. My cat ended up falling fast asleep on my lap. Monday Afternoon Nap, you must have sensed I needed a break because you lasted five and a half hours. I ended up missing my doctor’s appointment and picking up my kids from school, I even missed an important phone call causing me to lose my job. You were like an angel sent from heaven that day, I have never felt as refreshed as I did that day.

Then there was that time my family and I were on a road trip to Yosemite National Park, you came early that day and surprised me as I was driving. All I remember was listening to my wife complain that I needed to find a job and that she was sick and tired of supporting my lazy ass and then it happened…You decided to give me a much needed break from my stress, you lulled me into a trance, perhaps it was the rhythmic sounds of the road markers chattering away letting me know I was drifting off course, whatever it was it worked. When I awoke from my slumber my wife had stopped complaining…thankfully! She was thrown fifty feet away as the car rolled into that ditch, that nap changed my life, it was just what I needed at the time.

1 Corinthians 15:51 tells us, “Listen, I tell you a mystery: We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed.” Monday Afternoon Nap, My life will be forever altered now that you have moved on. You were with me for most of my adult life, and those years were delightful. Without you, Monday Afternoon Nap, my Monday’s are sometimes long, and at times, relentless. When 1:30 PM rolls around, the witching hour begins and chaos ensues. It is during these times I miss you most.

I know with challenge comes opportunity. Now that you have moved on, I have been able to leave the house on Monday afternoons to go to Walmart. While at times nice, the consistency of my Monday Afternoon Naps was a welcome friend I will always cherish.

I will miss you Monday Afternoon Nap, but know you will forever be regarded with honor and reverence.

Sincerely,

Tired In Montana

That’s Right Bitches…It’s That Time Of Year Again!

 

Alright…I don’t know about you, but I can’t wait to get my hands on some fucking pine cones and dried leaves so I can arrange them in a wicker basket on my dining room table. That shit is going to look so seasonal. I’m about to head up to the attic right now to find that wicker fucker, dust it off, and jam it with an insanely ornate assortment of pine cones and leaves. When my guests come over it’s gonna be like, BAM! Check out my fucking decorative pine cones, assholes. Guess what season it is…fucking fall. There’s a nip in the air and my house is full of pine cones and dried leaves.

I may even throw some chestnuts into the mix, all haphazard like a crisp October breeze just blew through and fucked that shit up. Then I’m going to get to work on making a beautiful fucking pine cone necklace for myself. People are going to be like,  “Aren’t those pine cones hurting your neck?”  And I’m just going to thread another pine cone onto my necklace without breaking their gaze and quietly reply,  “It’s fall, fuckfaces. You’re either ready to reap this freaky-assed harvest or you’re not.”

Raking leaves in my yard sounds like a pretty fitting way to ring in the season. You know what else does? Performing an all-pine cone reenactment of an episode of Friends… specifically the one when Ross, Joey and Chandler experience a homosexual threesome with each other. Well, this shit just got real, didn’t it?  Threesomes and Pine Cones have one very important commonality: they’re both extremely fucking real. Sorry if that’s upsetting, but I’m not doing you any favors by shielding you from this anymore.

The next thing I’m going to do is get my  “Arts and Crafts”  on some of the bigger pine cones and turn them into a perfect replica of the Mayflower as a shout-out to our Pilgrim forefathers. Then I’m going to do lines of pre-workout off its hull with a hooker. Why? Because it’s not summer, it’s not winter, and it’s not spring. Grab a calendar and pull your fucking heads out of your asses; its fall, fuckers.

Have you ever been in an Italian deli with salamis hanging from their ceiling? Well then you’re going to fucking love my house. Just look where you’re walking or you’ll get KO’d by the gauntlet of sap-covered, spikey, brown pine cones swinging from above. And when you do, you’re going to hear a very loud, very stereotypical Italian laugh coming from me. Consider yourself warned.

For now, all I plan to do is to throw on a flannel muscle shirt, some tattered gym shorts, and a floppy fucking hat and stand in the middle of a cornfield for a few days. The first crow that tries to land on me is going to get his avian ass bitch-slapped all the way back to summer.

Welcome to Autumn…Bitches!

Top 25 Reasons Why That Millennial Is Crying While Sitting At Starbucks

 

1. There was a 10 minute wait for the Pumpkin Spice Latte.

2. The Barista didn’t use the proper gender pronoun.

3. Because Trump is on the tv…the horror!

  4. Their favorite seat is taken by a white male, clearly “White Privilege” is in play.

5. Because there are no safe spaces in the real world.

6. They took a Buzzfeed quiz that guessed their gender correctly.

7. They see someone wearing a #MAGA t-shirt.

8. They forgot to take their Celexa but remembered to take their stool softener.

9. Again, something Trump related.

10. They got a call from their parents asking them to move out of the basement.

11. The guilt of supporting a free-market economy.

12. They accidentally swiped right on a Conservative’s profile.

13. Bernie still isn’t President.

14. They spilled coffee on their new “Che” t-shirt.

15. Misplaced their medical marijuana card.

16. They are starting to doubt that they are actually  “hip”  enough to be a “Hipster”.

17. They found out what Socialism actually means.

18. Wants to join ANTIFA but parents won’t let them.

19. Wants to use violence to stop free-speech but knows they will get beat up.

20. Couldn’t recall the difference between further and farther.

21. Whole Foods rejected employment application…yet again.

22. Wondering if that Liberal Art’s degree was actually worth it.

23. Keeps unsubscribing to the NRA emails but they keep sending them and now it’s starting to feel personal.

24. Heard that Reese’s may discontinue Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

25. Feels like they are trapped in a middle-class prison of their own  creation.

Bonus:  Again, something Trump related.

 

Why I Work From Home

  1. Attire

Safe at home with your coworkers and any sense of self-respect far, far away, burn your slacks and collared shirts. Slip into a stained T-shirt and pajama bottoms that will take you from day to night to day again. This soothing outfit will have you struggling to differentiate between skin and cloth. Rest assured, whether you finally get around to writing that report or more realistically fall asleep watching Chopped reruns, your new uniform will protect your soft, fleshy body.

 

  1. Food

Lunch breaks at the office are always rushed and unpleasant. You could bring something to reheat in the microwave, but Tina always stinks up the kitchen with her hard-boiled eggs. Usually you grab a salad from CVS and eat it in your cubicle while staring blankly at gray felt. At home, there aren’t any Tinas nor any sad CVS salads: it’s an absolute free-for-all. “Three square meals a day” is social construct which you no longer have to abide by. Dinner for breakfast, ice cream for lunch, cheese for second lunch. There isn’t a single moment that your fat mouth can’t be full of food and you better believe it will be.

 

  1. Less Drama

Small talk is one of the daily frustrations of office life. Smiling at Amy the receptionist six times a day gives you a headache and Ben in HR is always trying to get you to come to his stupid improv show. In the peaceful silence of your house you’ll never have to force a conversation again. There is no water cooler to gather around, no conference rooms, and no elevator trips. Your couch won’t make any comments about Amy’s dress and your coffee table won’t scoff at those comments. Feel free to create this dialogue out loud because no one will be around to hear it. In fact, there is so much emptiness that the sound waves coming from your mouth travel into the void and reverberate off the walls echoing your own voice back at you as if to say, “You’re completely and utterly alone.”

 

  1. Health Benefits

Commuting, long hours, and the disgusting office showers make exercising a huge chore, but working from home gives you the flexibility to go for a daily run or even head to the gym. Exercising is not only great for your health, it improves productivity. Having this as an option which in the future you might choose but otherwise hangs over your head like a dark cloud threatening to release a deluge of rain is great.

 

  1. Time Management

The regimented schedule of office life is harsh. You wake up before dawn to work nine hours straight and then come home to enjoy a few hours of uninterrupted relaxation. Telecommuting gives you the freedom to work literally any time. During your morning cup of coffee? You could be working! When American Pickers is on? You could be working! While you watch the birth to your first child? You could be working! Eschewing the office timetable gives you the option to work every second of every minute of every hour of every day, just like you always wanted.

Broken

 

Broken bones, a lifetime of pain, feel my suffering, but don’t call me insane

What’s going on? Why am I crying? Sleepless nights just surviving

There we all have guns, hand grenades and air support too

I see people running, scared to death, funny, Am I the death they fear?

Always they are running, always hiding, over there I see one crawling

But the slow and old will fall, they always fall, that’s what they do here

Why do I miss it so much? Can War be an addiction, why is Peace so confusing?

I can still hear their cheers, no wait those are my enemy’s taunts I hear

What is happening? Why am I still here? Survivors never forget, just the dead earn that

Always people screaming, wait, that’s my friend screaming, medic where the fuck are you?

The medic arrives but you could see the horror in his eyes, you can’t save them all they say

But couldn’t you have saved just this one that day? I will never forget, it’s impossible to forget

We fight on, day by day, we hold our positions, silently suffering, quietly wishing for it to end

Not everyone will understand, going home, home is never the same, how can it be?

Your life is a puzzle now, with so many pieces missing, everyone thinks they can solve it for you

You stay busy so you don’t have to think, sleep is just a place where the memories dwell

I am rotting away on the inside, no magic pill can cure this illness, its okay you did your best

One day it will be someone else’s turn to carry the burden, to suffer quietly, without me.

A Trip Gone Bad

 

A Fun Week Long Camping Trip To Glacier National Park Turns Into A Relationship Ending Experience As Noted By The Descriptions Each Person Gave To Their Digital Photos Over The Course Of The Week.

 

Monday

Tammy.jpg

Scott.jpg

SoInLoveWithTammy.jpg

ITotallyLoveYouTooScott.jpg

OhCoolAChipmunk.jpg

WhyDidScottTakeAPictureOfThatStupidChipmunk.jpg

TammyWillNotStopGivingMeShitOverTheChipmunk.jpg

ScottKeepsTakingPicturesOfStupidChipmunksAndWon’tTakeAnyOfMe.jpg

TammyJustWontShutUpAboutTheDamnChipmunk.jpg

 

Tuesday

IReallyHopeTodayWithTammyIsBetterThanYesterday.jpg

MaybeIOverractedAboutTheChipmunkThingIShouldApologizeToScott.jpg

IWonderWhyTammyCantMakeTheFireSheWantedToGoCamping.jpg

ScottReallyDoesn’tLookLikeMuchOfAnOutdoorsman.jpg

ScottAndHisGoddamnChipmunkAreRuiningThisTripForMe.jpg

TammySmellsReallyBadWhenSheDoesntShowerEveryday.jpg

ScottActuallyLooksLikeAGayManInTheWoodsHeIsSuchABitch.jpg

 

Wednesday

IReallyDontWantToGoAnotherDayFightingWithTammy.jpg

ScottLooksLikeMyMomInThatFlannelShirt.jpg

TammyReallyNeedsToGoDownToTheLakeAndCleanHerselfUp.jpg

ScottIsTheBiggestPansyIHaveEverMet.jpg

TammySmellsLikeAWildBoarIWonderIfSheCanSmellHerself.jpg

ScottWouldDieIfHeHadToSurviveAloneInTheWoodsWhatABitch.jpg

TammySeemsToBeGrowingHerFacialHairOutItsMessingWithMyHead.jpg

 

Thursday

JustAFewMoreDaysWithScottThenICanGetOutOfHere.jpg

IshouldHaveWentWithMyFriendsToLasVegasInsteadOfComingHereWithTammy.jpg

IHaveNoIdeaWhatIEvenLikeAboutScott.jpg

TammyNowHasABeardIThinkSheIsBecomingALumberjack.jpg

ScottGrewAVaginaOutHereInTheWoods.jpg

IshouldHaveBroughtMoreAlcoholItsAlmostGoneICantDealWithLumberjackTammySober.jpg

ScottAndHisVaginaMustBeOnTheirPeriod.jpg

 

Friday

IcouldHaveSwornTammySaidGoingCampingWouldBeGoodForOurRelationship.jpg

IReallyAmDisgustedByHowUnmanlyScottIs.jpg

TammysBeardIsLongerThanZZTopsICantLookHerInTheFace.jpg

IreallyWantToGoDrownScottInTheLakeNotSureICanResistTheUrgeAnyLonger.jpg

TammySmellsSoBadThatTheFlysAreEvenStayingAwayFromHer.jpg

 

Saturday

TammyTriedToKissMeAndIGotTangledUpInHerBeardIAlmostVomited.jpg

ScottReallyIsGayWhyDidntINoticeThisBeforeNow.jpg

OhMyChipmunkFriendCameBack.jpg

ScottTakingMorePicturesOfThatStupidFuckingRat.jpg

TammyJustSmashedMyChipmunkWithTheFryingPanChipmunkIsDead.jpg

ICantStopLaughingAtScottAsHeBuriesHisChipmunk.jpg

IHateTammySoMuchRightNowICantStopCrying.jpg

ScottHasBeenCryingForThreeHours.jpg

IHateTammySheKeepsSayingImGay.jpg

ScottIsGayScottIsGay.jpg

TammySleepingOutInTheDirtWithHerBeard.jpg

ScottSleepingInTheTentCrying.jpg

 

Sunday

IHopeIMadeThisWeekTheWorstWeekOfTammysLife.jpg

ScottIThinkWeShouldBothSeeOtherMen.jpg

WhateverTammyICantLookAtYouWithThatBeardAnyways.jpg

ScottICantLookAtYouWithThatVaginaBetweenYourLegsEither.jpg

I’mCallingMyFriendSteveToComePickMeUpSoYouCanRideHomeALoneTammy.jpg

FineIDontWantToRideHomeWIthYouAnywaysPansy.jpg

YouGoToHellTammyStraightToHell.jpg

Haters Gonna Hate!

Hey Hater,

I want to thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule, I realize your mom told you if you’re going to continue to live in her basement that you need to clean up after yourself and I’m sure those hot pocket wrappers and mountain dew cans aren’t going to pick themselves up.

Now getting to your opinion, which you made abundantly clear in yet another message you sent regarding my response to your last set of criticisms regarding my writings. I would now like to respond to your points you brought up and the suggestions you mentioned.

Let me just start off by saying, I appreciate your directness and candor. But, I regret to inform you that after careful consideration of your adamant proposal, I regret to inform you that I will neither be going nor will I be having Intercourse with myself, not now and most likely not anytime in the near future.

I know full well the graphic extent you went to in your profanity laced proposal concerning me having Intercourse with myself as it was emphasized several times in varying degrees of exclamation points and capitalized lettering, which if I am corrected means that your yelling at me, or the very least using an elevated tone in your text.

I would like to consider myself a gentleman, and as much as I would like to make you a  “Fan”  of my writings instead of an adamant Hater. I am nonetheless going to have to reject your suggestion out of hand. I find it flatly untenable. And though I can appreciate the concerns you manifested in your almost nonsensical statement regarding the use to which I might put my rear end, I do not consider the option of Self-Intercourse with a paintbrush, sideways, as I believe you specified, to be a course which I shall pursue.

Honestly, at the risk of sounding sarcastic, the manner and phrasing of your message, gives me doubts that you have my best interests in mind. And given the hostility and lack of propriety with which your suggestions has clearly raised concerns with me. I think that the case could easily be made that, you good sir should be the one that should go have Intercourse with yourself.

Might I suggest that you proceed with that undertaking by using the aforementioned paintbrush in the sideways manner you were so kind as to suggest earlier.

Dare I say you do not like this idea I have proposed? Then good sir I will retract my suggestion. Which now leaves us at an impasse on this whole Self-Intercourse idea. Let’s just agree to disagree and move along to some of the other actions that you, in your eloquent message suggested that I undertake. I would like to address the idea you had of me having Intercourse with my Cat, by the way her name is Ms.Kitty not the deplorable name which you called her, which was totally uncalled for.

Let’s me just say that the prospect of engaging in Intercourse with one’s house pet, a Cat no less, is just repulsive and I believe criminal in some nature, perhaps your goal is for me to get arrested for this act and have the details of this despicable action  plastered on the front page of the local newspaper. Sufficed to say I will not give you this pleasure and in no way will I be defiling Ms.Kitty in any manner.

So let me close in saying to you that I have read your message and have duly considered everything you suggested to me. But in all frankness, I can nonetheless assure you that I will most certainly not be eating a bag of penises or lodging it up or blowing it out, whatever  “it”  might have been, that you incessantly kept referring to, as you had left out that crucial pronoun tragically without antecedent of  “my ass”.

So after careful consideration of all we have touched on, I have reached a conclusion that is most certainly true…You’re an Illiterate Douche Bag.

Montana Humor

 

 

The Helena Diner

So this guy stops by a local Helena diner around noon, it’s the busiest time of the day, so he goes and sits down at the counter and asks the waitress for a cup of coffee. So the waitress, who grew up on the rough streets of Butte, Montana gives him his coffee then rushes off to help the other customers who are having lunch there at the diner.

Now the guy who ordered coffee likes to use both creamer and sugar in his coffee, but the container for both of them are empty. When the waitress rushes by him, he asks her to bring him some cream and sugar for his coffee. But the waitress, who is now busier than ever forgets about the man’s request and rushes by him again taking food to other customers.

When she passes the cabinet where the extra sugar and cream is kept , she puts her plates down and grabs some sugar cubes and creamer, then puts both of them in her bosom since both her hands are full. When she served her plates to the other diners she returned to the man and asks him  “How many sugar cubes did you want in your coffee?” The man says,  “Two is fine”  she reaches into her bra and pulls out two sugar cubes and into hos coffee cup she drops them.  “And cream?”  she asks. The man looks at her right in the eyes and says  “You wouldn’t dare!”

 

 

Helena’s Bad Ass Staci

A teacher at Helena Middle School gave her fifth grade class an assignment: Get their parents to tell them a story with a moral at the end of it. So the next day the kids came back to class and one by one began to tell their stories.

Peggy said,  “My Dad is a Chef and we have to go to the store all the time to buy food for his restaurant. One time we went to a local farmer to buy a bunch of eggs for the restaurant, we placed all the eggs in a basket in the back of our truck, but on the way back Dad had to swerve to miss a deer in the road, but all the eggs went flying everywhere and got broken, causing a huge mess.”

“And what’s the moral of the story?” asked her teacher

“Don’t put all your eggs in one basket!”

“Excellent”  her teacher said.

“Okay, Annie, your turn”  said the teacher Annie said  “Well my parents are the ones that own the farm that Peggy and her Dad bought the eggs from. We usually just raise chickens for the meat, then sell them to local stores. But there was this one time when we had a dozen eggs, but when they hatched we only had ten live chicks. So the moral of the story is don’t count your chickens until they are hatched”  “That was a very good story Annie”  said the teacher. “Billy, do you have a story to share?”

“Well yes I do, my Dad told me this story about my Aunt Staci. Now Aunt Staci was born and raised in Helena, and after high school she joined the Army and was an Apache helicopter pilot during the war in Iraq, her helicopter got hit and she had to make an emergency landing in enemy held territory and all she had on her was a bottle of Jack, an M4 rifle and a bayonet. So she drank the whiskey and then headed out towards her base in Baghdad. But on her way she ran across 85 enemy troops, who engaged her in a firefight, she ended up killing seventy-five of them with her M4, but ran out of ammo, then she charged the remaining ten enemy troops and killed seven of them with her bayonet until it broke when she shoved it into one of their skulls, she then killed the last three enemy troops with her bare hands, she even bit off one guys ear and kept it as a souvenir”

“Holy Cow,”  the shocked teacher said  “What kind of moral did your Dad tell you from that horrible story?”

“Don’t fuck with Aunt Staci when she has been drinking”

 

The Montana Tax Genie

Now there was a Hipster from East Helena who went to a dude ranch outside Bozeman, he decided to go riding a horse off in the woods by himself, but he got lost, and spent several days wandering around the woods without food or water.

The Hipster started to get weak and he fell off his horse, the horse then took off without him. Being that he was too weak to walk he began to crawl through the woods, he was certain the end was near, then all of the sudden the Hipster sees an object sticking out of a hole in the ground. It appeared to be an old briefcase. He open it and out pops a Genie.

But this was no ordinary Genie. She was wearing a Montana State Revenue Service ID badge and wore a dull grey dress, she also had a calculator in her hand.

She had a pencil tucked behind one of her ears. The Genie said  “Well, what do we have here? Looks like a Hipster to me. Anyways you know how this works, you have three wishes”

The Hipster said  “I’m not falling for this”  then he said  “I’m not going to trust some state tax collector Genie”

The Genie said  “Well Mr. Hipster, what do you have to lose? You have no transportation and it looks to me like you don’t have much time left anyways”

The Hipster thought about it for a minute and decided that the Genie was right…”Ok, I wish I was in a Starbucks with all the Latte’s and Biscotti’s I could handle”

************POOF*************

The Hipster finds himself in the Starbucks in Helena, Montana. He is surrounded by Venti sized Pumpkin Spice Latte’s and Silver platter’s full of Biscotti’s and plenty of apron wearing Barista’s to cater to his every wish.

“Ok, Hipster boy, what’s your second wish?”….The Hipster then said  “I wish that I was rich beyond my wildest dreams”

***************POOF***************

Then the Hipster finds himself surrounded by ornate treasure chests filled with rare gold coins and precious gems….”Alright, Hip Boy, you have just one last wish…Better make it a good one”  said the Genie.

Now the Hipster thought about it for a few minutes, then he said…”I wish that no matter where I go, beautiful women want and need me”

**************POOF**************

The Hipster then turned into a Tampon.

The moral of the story….If the Montana State Revenue Service offers you anything, there is always going to be a string attached!

A Guy’s Guide To Surviving An Argument.

 

We men have done some pretty amazing things throughout history, just going back the last hundred years look at all the cool stuff we achieved…We American’s landed on the beaches of Normandy and kicked the Nazi’s assess back to Germany, We put a man on the moon, We won the cold war and we have remained the undefeated world champs at football, you know real football, American football…of course we never play any other countries but that doesn’t matter because we are Americans and we do what we want.

Now the point I’m trying to make is that as men, we have faced incredible odds and overcame those odds to achieve our goals, we have faced numerous enemies in the past like Germany, Japan, Russia and came out victors. But now it’s time that we men form a strategy to take on our fiercest advisory yet, the one that strikes fear in millions of men each and every day…It’s time we face our greatest challenge, something we have never been able to successfully master, and that’s winning an argument with a female.

Let’s face it guys when it comes to women we lose every argument that we are ever involved in, even if we “technically”  win, we still lose. In my opinion arguing with a female is pointless, just like washing your car in the rain, it makes no sense, but we end up doing it anyways.

So as a male, I would like to see us men achieve finally achieve victory in the war of angry words, I have really been giving it a lot of thought the last forty five minutes and I’m pretty sure I have come up with a viable solution when we are faced with our worst nightmare, a female who wants to argue with you. Think of arguing like a Chess game, you need to think a few moves ahead, it’s about strategy and remaining calm, don’t let your emotions control the game.  My plan isn’t perfect but neither are you so that’s why it’s perfect.

 

Move One: Remove Logic

Usually when you are in an argument with a female logic isn’t used by everyone, don’t allow yourself to be handicapped by it.

 

Move Two: Never Compromise Your Beliefs

I learned a long time ago that as soon as I offered a compromise to an angry female, it was like blood in the water, the shark gets in a frenzy and attacks everything. I was told by a female friend that as soon as a guy compromises the female thinks if they can get you to concede to one thing they will be able to get you to quit on everything.

 

Move Three: Sometimes It’s Okay To Take Cheap Shots

We have all been there, we are caught up in an argument and the girl will randomly insult you with something that has no relevance to the argument. That is a power move on their part, to wear you down and break your spirit. Once they go there it is okay for you to defend yourself with your own cheap shot. Tell her she reminds you of your mom, I’ve been told that really upsets them.

 

Move Four: Note Historical References

When you start throwing historical references out during an argument, this is like being sprayed with bear spray, it will confuse and disorient your opponent.

 

Move Five: Disrupt And Interrupt

Think about it, if you disrupt the flow of her argument by interrupting her, then she can’t talk. And girls hate that, sort of like how they hate other girls, which is just as confusing and funny in a weird way.

 

Move Six: Don’t Get Too Serious

Listen don’t take this arguing stuff too seriously, try to add levity to the situation by laughing when she tries to make her point. Chances are she will start laughing as well, and the argument will be over…Or there is also the chance once you start laughing she might grab a sharp object and stab you in the heart.

 

Move Seven: Never Fall For “Let’s stop arguing please”

This is an age old tactic of the females, it is their way of making you let your guard down, then they jump on you like a band of spider monkeys, and you will lose! Instead say something like  “Yes, I think we both know I’m right so no point going any further”  Again, you run the risk of being stabbed in the heart with something pointy.

 

Move Eight: Compare Her To Another Female

This is a dangerous move, but when you feel like you’re about to lose, mention to her that one of her friends is much more compassionate than her, this will instantly disorientate her, it will give you a chance to take back control of the situation. Again, you may be stabbed in the heart and face by something sharp and pointy. Be Vigilante

 

Move Nine: Don’t Be Afraid To Cry

We all know that’s their main move when they start losing an argument, so beat her to it. Start crying as soon as the argument starts and don’t stop until your taking your victory lap.

 

Move Ten: Checkmate

Since no guy likes arguing, and we all know we never win anyways, forget about Moves 1 thru 9, and just immediately say you’re Sorry, tell her you love her and remember being right isn’t worth losing or hurting someone you love. Checkmate