Top Ten Disgusting Things I’d Rather Chew on Than a Tootsie Roll™

Top Ten Disgusting Things I’d Rather Chew on Than a Tootsie Roll™ 

Well, here we are again. Another All Hallows Eve gone by. Another stupid litany of punny couples’ costumes. Another pile-on of pumpkin sluts who can’t stop posting pics of the cute skull decor at Target ®. Another newsfeed filled with photos of your middle aged friends’ kid’s shitty plastic fire hazard costumes. Or worse, another week of Snaps from your younger friends’ festive parties. You know, the parties they invited you to even though they know you work the goddamned weekend.

Another week of attempting not to eat the candy you bought for trick or treaters. You bought it a week early, thinking you’d be ahead of the game. You bought it because you overestimated your willpower. You bought it because way down inside the murky depths of your subconscious you had every fucking intention of eating that goddamned candy yourself. You chose all the good shit, didn’t you? You went straight for the mini candy bars, the factory version of cereal treats, the gummies shaped like animals. Everything in that pumpkin shaped bowl is chocolate covered, peanut butter filled, marshmallow stuffed, chewy, crunchy, sweet and salty, or caramel laden. Admit it! 

Oh, you dumb bitch. You’ll be licking the sticky sweet goo off your fingers before you even realize you opened that wrapper. Not one adult can resist their own halloween candy, what the fuck made you think you’d be the ONLY one who could make that shit last until October 31st?

Well, I’ve got a life hack for you, as usual. Just buy trash candy. You know what I’m talking about. The sack of orange, yellow, and white corns, the pill shaped stack of pastel chalk flavored shit wrapped up in plastic, the pretend chocolate and candy coated balls in the plastic tube. Don’t pretend you forgot! The stuff you avoided when you were a kid. You would have rather gone to the house KNOWN for putting razors in the caramel apples than to the house that handed out trash candy. 

What’s the worst offender of all on the trash candy list, you ask? Oh.. I’ll tell you anyway.

It’s the original Tootsie Roll™. From the turd-like shape to the turd-like color, from the tooth busting texture to the falseness of the “chocolate” flavor, everything about this candy is garbage. The fate of the E.T.™ Atari ® game is too good for this bullshit. It is literally the only candy that would work better as a suppository. It’s the only mainstream candy that is more trick than treat. 

 

So… Allow me to present to you:

Top 10 Disgusting Things I’d Rather Chew on Than a Tootsie Roll™ 

10) My own toenail clippings

9) Vienna sausages

8) A bat wing

7) Chocolate covered skin flakes

6) A wig

5) Smarties ™ 

4) Shredded balloon

3) A fully charged D battery

2) Root beer

1) Yuck. Anything. Tootsie Rolls ™ are the worst.

 

Dedicated to Aaron Esterby, defender of Tootsie Rolls ™ and Sammy Hagar.

POWER PAIRING

ARE YOU READY TO GO EXTREME?

Do you ever wish you could get SUPER JACKED? I mean like SO FUCKIN JACKED? But where to begin? And once you’ve begun, when do you stop? Well, you’ve come to the right place. I have all the information your tired, sad, depressed, moody brain can handle. You need this blog more than I need you. Remember that!

Increased energy has been coveted by mankind since the dawn of civilization.  The ancient solutions to fatigue varied from coffee to tea, from the coca leaf to the tobacco plant. The more modern approach is far more efficient and involves chemical amalgamations found in the antiseptic labs of pharmaceutical companies. Another contemporary option includes a mobile or brick-and-mortar methamphetamine production facility.

Adults the world over have desired increased vigor in order to keep up with their offspring. How often have you heard your annoying small-talk-making coworker say “I wish they sold that energy in a can!” in regards to their shitty groin fruit? After reading this blog, you can tell Penelope that she need only go to her nearest gas station. There, for a mere $2-$3, she can obtain the chemical approximation of the strength, stamina, and pizzaz usually reserved for Jack Russell terriers with ADHD.

Name of Drink	Caffeine	Cost	Flavor	Extras	Grams of carbs	Associated arrhythmia	Activity	Overall Rating
BANG: Unicorn Rainbow	💪💪💪	💰💰	🍰🍰🍰🍋	🐂🔨💣💊	0	V-tach	Working a 12 hour nursing shift, then cleaning your baseboards after you go to the gym for a kettlebell lift	😬😬😬😬😬
Monster: Java	💪💪	💰💰	🍰🍰	🍠🌱	🍭	A-fib	Driving 6 hours	😬😬😬
Red Bull Original	💪	💰	🍰🍰🍰🍰🍰🍋	🐂💊	🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭	PVC	Reading a text book for 2 hours	😬😬😬
NOS power punch	💪	💰💰	🍰🍰🍰🍰🍋	🐂💊	🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭🍭	Atrial flutter	A walk around the block	😬😬
Redline	💪💪💪💪	💰	🍰🍰🍰	I can’t find cute emojis for all the weird shit in this one		V-fib	Running the Boston Marathon and then performing a 4 hour brain surgery followed by a 50 minute spin class	😬😬😬😬😬😬

KEY:

😬 The meth-induced psychosis emoji indicates the overall effectiveness

💪 The thinly disguised erect penis emoji indicates the energy strength

💰 Sack of cash emoji indicates how many sacks of cash you owe

🍰 Cake wedge emoji indicates the sweetness quotient

🍋 Lemon emoji indicates the tartness level

💊 Pill emoji indicates B vitamins, substances the body needs to turn your doughnut breakfast into energy, are present

💣 Video game bomb emoji indicates Creatine, a substance used by muscle cells to be more swol, is present

🐂 Oxen emoji indicates Taurine, an amino acid extracted from the semen of bulls, is present

🍠Tuber emoji indicates Ginseng, a magic root to treat brain dumb-dumbs, is present

🌱Cute lil baby plant bulb emoji indicates Guarana, a seed extract not proven in any way to assist with energy, weight loss, and cognition, is present.

🍃 Blowing leaf emoji indicates Ginko Biloba, a plant used to improve braininess, is present

🔨Hammer man emoji indicates CoQ10, an enzyme used as a spackle for your cells, is present

🍭 Lollipop emoji indicates amount of sugar/carbohydrates present

 

“I Don’t Care How Much of a Feminist I Am, I’m Not Covering My Face In Period Blood” -Danis Owens

        I believe all humans are equal. But I don’t want to wipe my face with a used menstrual pad.

         I believe in the unalienable rights of all people to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness, regardless of gender. But I’m not going to take out my Diva Cup, dump it into my hands, and smear it across my money maker.

          I believe everyone has the right to express their gender identity as they see it. But I will never get to the point where I ring out my used tampons into an empty makeup compact and create a facial of period blood.

          I believe menstruation is a fully natural and necessary part of life for women, it is not gross or dirty. But I am not going to reach into the toilet and fish a blood clot out just to paint my face with a masque of uterine lining.

          I believe in educating children using feminist ideals to destroy the patriarchy in future generations. But that doesn’t mean I plan on squatting over a paper plate, bearing down with a healthy valsalva maneuver and squirting out a stream of steaming red sanguineous fluid in order to daub a little ditty of it on my cheeks, forehead, chin and nose.

          There are so many other ways to show your respect for women. As with any blood or bodily fluid, for the love of Christ and all other deities, please just collect and dispose of it in a sanitary fashion.

A Squit of Leisure

Mrs. Kittens sat by the window at her writing desk. She looked at the envelope in front of her and sighed lightly. The breeze wafted through the curtains, bringing along with it the scent of a rabbit and the chirping of birds. Her heart swelled with a deep need for the outdoors… She could only console her desire by answering their chirping with her own special song. She managed to hold back and returned her attention to the matter currently at hand.

 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Iddlebiddle,

Sadly, I will not be able to attend your event. I greatly appreciate your kind invitation.

 

She stopped herself and crossed out her writing on her specially monogrammed stationery with one straight line. She folded it neatly in half and threw it in the embossed metal trash can sitting next to her. She realized it was pointless to attempt turning down the invite to her friend’s soiree. If she did actually write that note and have it delivered by her girl, she would immediately have Mrs. Iddlebiddle standing at her doorway, knocking furiously.

 

Dear Mr. and Mrs. Snuggly Iddlebiddle, she began again, on new stationary.

        Mr. Kittens and I would be pleased to attend your event. We greatly appreciate

your kind invitation.

Thank you,

    Mrs. Luna Petunia Kittens nee’ Maow Maow.

 

Mrs. Kittens said her full name aloud to herself, with pride. She enjoyed the way it bounced off her tongue.  Although she had married into a certain station, she was careful to always include her maiden name. She never wished to be a squit of leisure. A tiny sweet baby of substance, that was her goal. Her fund drives for inner city cat shelters were very popular amongst the society widdles. She shuddered to think how those same kitties would react had they known of her own time spent in a shelter.

She was born feral.  She came from a long line of streetwise feral calicoes.  She spent the first few months of her life in a power plant. Dodging the workboots of the humans, snagging human treats from half-empty snack wrappers, chasing after mice and leaping at birds, she missed her carefree life. She knew, however, the trade off for such freedom was survival insecurity. Best not to dwell, she thought, but she couldn’t help herself.

Her entire litter died of failure to thrive when they were babies. Overcome by a deep existential loneliness, she felt a lump forming in her throat. She stood, bending the letter into a small, neat square. She placed it inside the envelope and sealed it with red wax and her personalized stamp. She held it in her paw for some time, tracing the gold etched design.

The stamp, a gift from Mr. Kittens after he returned from a long trip overseas. He always picked up such thoughtful gifts. She was still grateful for his kindness and understanding as, in her youth, she navigated through the social mores of high society.  A dangerous sea of whitecaps that threatened to swell and drown her more than once. She really was a lucky kitty, despite the constant yearning for the sweet nectar of freedom.

a love letter to mine kikibaby

dear baby kiki

i have beer goggles for you

i love your little face

and your little wiskers too

i love your markings

and your barkings

even though they are just meows

what if you were able to speak english to me somehows

you always make me smile

even when you barf

just kidding, that shit is disgusting.

Five Things

This is a list of things I miss. Let’s not dwell on the order.

 

1. Diet Cherry Chocolate Dr. Pepper: What the fuck is this? The brigadoon version of sody pops? It only comes around once every 500 years? That’s some bullshit. Drinking it was the equivalent of having an oiled up, muscular human feed you grapes and fan you with palm fronds. This shit is like watching someone else clean your house. While we’re on the subject of long lost sodas, why the fuck did they change the recipe for Sierra Mist? And Sierra Mist cranberry was the absolute squid’s tits.

 

1. Ordering whatever the fuck I want off the gotdamned menu. Now that the little baby Jesus stole all the sugar out of my mouth, I’m stuck ordering these picky bitch meals when I just want to say “I’ll have the #4 combo with cheese.” There is nothing more irritating to me, since I am the opposite of a picky eater. Also, those waitrons having to deal with me… I know they’re internally screaming and rolling their eyes. Damn you ‘Betes!

 

1. Going to bed whenever I feel like it. I remember being a youth and just going to bed when I was tired. Those were the days! Now I’m sitting here, writing this dumb bullshit instead of getting a full night’s sleep. I always seem to find something “super important” to do at the last minute before I hit the sack and then go to bed. But mostly I’m just wasting time on my phone. Candy ain’t gonna crush itself.

 

1. All those times I spent fucking around with my friends. Also, they were always free. Nobody used to have plans, ever. We’d just go to each other’s places with nothing particular to do and find some shit to get into. Pranking each other, getting drunk, generally acting super immature. Then everybody got married and had ugly kids and got stupid careers.

 

1. My mom. She passed away 5 years ago and I think of her every day.  I always think of shit I want to call her about or text her about. I asked my brother recently what he would say to her if he could contact her. He had a gorgeous answer: “I’d tell her I miss her and I’m sorry and I love her forever no matter what or when.” Meanwhile, my answer: “oh I’d probably brag about stupid shit and tell her about podcasts to listen to!” I’m such an asshole. Got a problem with it? Talk to Mom!

SURPRISE!

When we were in high school, my dad fell asleep on the couch in his tighty-whiteys. This feat was not abnormal in itself. Howmever, he fell asleep in a very weird position like a sexy lady laying across a grand piano

^like that.
And my brother and I found it to be HILARIOUS.
So naturally we took a picture.
This was the early days of digital cameras so the pic had to be uploaded onto a special drive and then onto a disc or some other storage device.
Dad had this thing that you could plug directly into the TV.
And he was super proud and excited that this thing was so cool! So he always showed it off to his friends or mom’s friends or my friends or Jym’s friends or ANYONE who entered the house for ANY reason.
So like a month later we had forgotten about the sexy dad pic we took while he was sleeping.
And he had some people over and immediately started showing off this amazing photo sharing thing…
And up popped the sexy undies pic for everyone’s amusement!

ASK UNSAVORY AMBER

Dear Unsavory Amber,

I had a longtime friend coming to town to visit me this summer. I took time off work to entertain this guest and her family. I bought special groceries for meals I planned on preparing. When they landed at the airport, she texted me “What’s your address? We’re on our way.” She texted me about twenty minutes later that she would be staying in a different town and her excuse was “Must have been a miscommunication.” Should I be done with this friend forever?

Furious in Fargo

 

Dear Furious,

I understand being upset. First things first… Immediately prepare all the meals you had planned, plate everything beautifully down to the goddamn garnishes. Then take pictures, add a professional filter, tag her in them, and post them to all forms of social media, Facebook, Snapchat, Instagram (duh), Twitter, LinkedIn, Grindr, etc. Make sure to include a shit load of hashtags like #keto #vegan #fitness #farmtotable #foodislife #blessed #lovemylife so that she knows what she’s missing out on. I mean, what is the reason for hashtags other than to make people jealous? #killingit. Dump the contents into the garbage and laugh; it’s the American way. I mean, you could take it to a homeless shelter but that’s just unpatriotic. Enjoy your 4th of July.

Yours truly,

Unsavory Amber

 

Dear Unsavory Amber,

How old is too old for sexual activity? Thanks in advance,

Horny in Horace.

 

Dear Horny,

Is that your real name? Is it a family name? If so, that is gross. What is wrong with your family? Also, any age older than 73 is too old. Take a cold shower and do some gardening like a normal granny, fer Christ’s sake. But, if you insist on being a sexy beast, then enjoy Grandparent’s Day safely. Use a condom, I don’t care if you’re postmenopausal. STIs still spread no matter how wrinkly your genitals.

Yours truly,

Unsavory Amber

 

Dear Unsavory Amber,

I’m the director of human resources for a small firm and I recently heard a rumor that one of the staff in the office has been faking a serious illness in order to do less work. I am unsure if I should confront him. If he is truly sick, he would most assuredly be upset by my questioning, but I can’t let him get away with malingering.  I just don’t know what to do!

Concerned in Casselton

 

Dear Concerned,

The first thing you should do is stop using exclamation points because it makes you look like a douche! Next, call him and pretend you’re from the local hospital and tell him you’re confirming his upcoming appointment. Now he’s going to react in one of two ways. He’s going to either A) be super confused that someone from the hospital is contacting him, or B) tearfully admit he has cancer. There are no other ways he will react.

If it’s reaction A), hang up immediately. Call an emergency meeting of all your best work friends in the break room. Huddle up and explain the situation. Slam some shots of the peppermint schnapps you keep in your desk drawer. Grab some paper from the printer and roll it into a cone and light one end to make a torch. Grab some pitchforks from the office pitchfork closet. Storm into his cubicle and demand answers. Call him a warlock and demand a pound of flesh.

If he is actually sick, resist the urge to call 911. Just look in his file, find out his emergency contact person’s number. It is your responsibility in human resources to contact that person and give out the information that he is probably not going to make it until the end of the day. On your lunch break, go to the deli and pick up some chicken noodle soup. Bring it to him and just as he reaches for it, pour the soup onto his desk. Tell him “THAT’S FOR MAKING ME LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE.” Enjoy boss’s day!

Yours truly,

Unsavory Amber

 

Dear Unsavory Amber,

Help! I’m seventeen and I’m worried I’ll never get asked to prom. I’ve never had a boyfriend and I’ve never even had my first kiss. Help me land my dream date.

Worried in Wahpeton

 

Dear Worried,

Listen… I never had a boyfriend in high school and I turned out fine! I work ridiculous hours, live paycheck to paycheck, and my teeth are rotting out of my gums. It’s so overrated. However, this isn’t about me. You’re in the market for a great guy to escort you to the traditional human trafficking auction that is prom.

Start by doing some landscaping of the garden that is your filthy human body… I mean body… I’m human too… I’m definitely not a robot programmed in the future to travel through time and end humanity.  If you were lucky enough to be born with a third arm, try to tuck it into the waistband of your pants but be careful not to cut off the circulation. You may want to buy some bigger pants to accommodate the circumference of the arm itself. Elastic is another option. Use your imagination and have fun with it. If you’re blessed with a vestigial tail, try a skirt with crinoline. A romper is a modern twist on hiding extra appendages.

Next, you can have your unibrow removed. I think the easiest way to go about this is to use a long strip of duct tape, press it against the prominent ridge, and just rip the whole shebang off. After your forehead is clear of any hairs at all, you can use a brow pencil or felt tip marker, whatever is comfortable for you. Whatever you do, don’t chicken out halfway through and end up with a big mess of scraggly hairs dotting your brow ridge. People might think your head is on upside down… scraggly hairs belong on the chin (and in your cleavage).

Now that you’ve got the look which youngsters find desirable, it’s time to get that date.  It’s gonna be as tricky as wrapping a corpse in an area rug, stuffing it in your trunk, taking it to the river, dumping it, going over to your mom’s house to create an alibi, making a show of grieving, and lying to the cops… I heard from a friend. There are several archetypes of last-resort prom dates. To make this easier to understand, I made a little table to help you in your journey.

 

OPTION	PRO	CON
Cute teenage cousin from a different town	Will make people jealous Age appropriate Guaranteed parental approval	You will not get laid (unless that cousin is freaky too) Your friends might know this person, therefore blowing your cover Awkward family reunions
Gas station clerk who can buy beer legally	Can buy beer/cigs/chew legally Sweet employee discount	Not age appropriate Missing teeth Parental approval questionable
Your best friend’s weed dealer	Has extra cash to treat you right	Boring Has enemies Has too many cell phone numbers May or may not be age appropriate Parental approval questionable
Imported Japanese sex doll	Never argues with you You’re always in charge No extraneous conversation necessary Parental approval a non-issue No prophylaxis needed	Can’t dance Won’t be able to pay for the meal or pick you up

I think the results of this graphic speak for themselves. Imported Japanese Sex Doll it is!  Enjoy your prom!

Yours truly,

Unsavory Amber

Goals

Write daily they say

A little each day

 

Sounds easy enough

You love doing this stuff

 

Wednesday went by

Now Sunday is nigh

 

Not a single thing yet

Just literature debt

 

No tales or essays

Not a single word stays

 

Squat diddly jack shit

Down a literary pit

 

Fifteen minutes at a time

Listen, I’m doing just fine

 

At least that’s what I’ll tell

Writer’s group

When God Closes a Door

Trigger Warning: If you’re saved, save yourself the stress of reading this heathen propaganda. No disrespect intended to those who are believers. It is just not for me.

Prequel: Let the record stand that the defendant is a godless commie.

Prologue: I am not interested in joining any religions. ANY. Not a single fucking one. They are all 100% complete insanity. Mormonism=Catholicism=Islam=Buddhism=Scientology. Invented by madmen to control frightened poor people.

Chapter one: Once, about 10 years ago, I heard a knock on the door of our apartment; a casual knock, a “shave and a haircut, two bits” knock; the knock of a friend. Expecting a visit from a friend, I shouted “come in!” from my cozy position on the couch. The door slowly creaked open and it was a troupe of young adults in suits. Clearly a religious faction of some sort, probably the prosteletizing kind. I shouted again: “Wait! Nevermind! Don’t come in!” and they closed the door… THEY SHUT THE DOOR IN THEIR OWN FACES! Success is a sweet sweet fruit, my friends.

Chapter two: A recent rash of drones have been attacking my neighborhood without heed. They swoop in, ring door bells early in the morning, and expect you to engage in a civil interaction with them about whatever lunacy they’re peddling. Not one person is home on a Tuesday at 0900 unless they’re sleeping. Either they’re night shift people or hungover and either way- Jesus fucking Christ let a girl get some goddamn motherfucking sleep on her day off.

Chapter three: Aaron told me that he had a early morning guest, bible-oriented pamphlet in hand,  It ws a young lady, skittish, like a deer, standing in the middle of the road, with a pamphlet.  He politely told her that he wasn’t interested and implored that she have a good day. He mentioned that we should get a no solitation sign for the doorway. Then we forgot to get one.

Chapter four: The next one showed up at 0930 about a week later. This Jesus lady had the misfortune of ringing the doorbell on my day off. I knew it was one of them Christ peddlers. Nobody else rings the fucking doorbell at that time of the day. Even the postal people have the good goddamn sense to just leave the shit on the fuckin step unless it requires a signature. Braless, hair in a haystack configuration due to swimming the night before, a screeching mandrill of a woman, I stumbled to the door, generic store brand sparkling water in hand. Confronted by the bright sun and a woman dressed professionally with beautifully coiffured hair, I glared a dark, dark, NASTY glare.

Chapter five: This lady gets up at 4:30 in the morning to do a quick cardio workout and then gets the kids up for homemade organic fruit and instant pot yogurt smoothies topped off with freshly squeezed kale juice before they go to figure skating practice. Rink time is at a premium so you gotta get up early! She laughs, wouldn’t trade it for the world! HASHTAG BLESSED.

Chapter Six:

ME: Are you selling something?
JESUS JANET: No!
ME: Is this some religious bullshit?
JESUS JANET: Yes... well, I was just gonna give you this pamphlet and-
ME: I'm not interested, go fuck off down the road.

Chapter Seven: I really laughed to myself as she said, cheerily “Okay! Have a nice day!” as a response to being told to fuck off. She was turning the other contoured cheek. Walking the Jesus walk… Good job, Janet.

Chapter Eight: I still haven’t gotten a gotdamn “no solicitors” sign. I think I just like yelling at people.