Throwing Bitterness to the Wind Friday Giftures

This week when we went on a walk around the neighborhood and it was a typical Seattle day.  50 degrees. cloudy and raining lightly.  I’m not a fan of weather watching…at all. If Global Warming were the Super Bowl and the most watched event ever, I would be like, I’m over here watching the reruns of the Office, I could care so little.  I wouldn’t even watch it for the commercials or the halftime tornado.   But that day, I observed something about Grey Cloud Town, USA(and I’m not talking where all your pictures uploaded to).  I said to my wife, “This day right here, cloudy, 50, rainy, could have happened in any month of the year here.  January, March, September, even July.”  That is how bitterly consistent that kind of day happens here.  I remember July 4th a few years ago, where I wore a jacket and long pants to observe the fireworks.  Sometimes it even gets windy here. And when it does, you need to throw caution and bitterness into it. Just like I’m throwing these Gifs and my caution into the wind.

 

Can this weather…

...just stop? Signs point to....no.

…just stop? Signs point to….no.

 

Caution isn’t the only thing…

...

…being thrown around here.

 

I hate to burst your bubble…

...but I'm going to.

…actually no I don’t. 

 

 

 I’m gonna throw caution…

...like a cancle in the wing.

…like a candle in the wind.

 

 And I gonna throw this girl…

sfdf

…under the bus.

 

 

I’m gonna set the bar really low…

dfdf

…and still not reach my goooooooooooooooooooollll!

 

I will get my revenge…

...with something really

…with a drive by donuting.

 

If you want to see me, I’ll be in my booth… 

 

not right meow? Okay.

…not right meow? Okay.

 

 

 I tried exercise once…

...

…it really hurt.

 

 Now I’m really gonna throw caution to the wind..

 

 

...and throw on some sweatpants.

…and throw on some sweatpants.

 

 Or perhaps something…

...

…more delicious. 

 

 And rush…

...right into my dream emporium.

…right into my dream emporium.

 

 

And that is enough excitement for one week.  I’d talk more, but like I said, dream emporiuming right now. Dreaming of more ways to be bitter.  Now go.

ARRRGGGHHHHH

Bitter Cautionary Tale Ben

 

Funny Blog Friday

For your Black Friday Funny Bitterness Gifture pleasure. Not really.

For your Black Friday Funny Bitterness Gifture pleasure. Not really.

Make sure you check out all the Funny Business that is going on all over WordPress today…

 

The other Funny Blog Friday bloggers: VISIT THEM!!  (And if you love us, tweet using hashtags #FBF and #FunnyBlogFriday)

Alanna of White Girls Be Like…

Jamie of Fits of Wit

Jessie of Jessie Reyna

HE Ellis of HE Ellis

Ben of Ben’s Bitter Blog

Jenn of Properly Ridiculous

Alice of Alice At Wonderland

Lisa of Buddhaful Britt

JC of JCS Bloggery

Sarah of No Cry Babies

Elke of The Pretty Platform

Jack of The Things I see Up Here

Chicks A & E of Too Funny Chicks

Charly of Crazy Life

Kevin of Trailer Trash Deluxe

Karilin of That Nameless Color

Arthur from Pouring My Art Out

Gina of Endearingly Wacko

 

Restless Bitter Syndrome

 

were

…bleeding ulcers or death. 

So you’re going along, watching you favorite TV show, when all of a sudden, the subject changes.  Instead of it being a discussion between Jeff and Abed about the difference between pillow forts and blanket forts, some other weirdo starts talking about “a serious disease and how it can be cured, with only minimal side effects like a bleeding ulcer or death”.  I don’t remember a narrator, or the meadow people having a picnic being part of the show.  I was complaining about it last night and my wife told me there is this thing called commercials.  I’m still very confused why they interrupted the show or why they were talking about weird diseases, because I ignored it and hoped it would go away.  Later another non sequitur came on about something called Restless Leg Syndrome.

My legs every day.

I do my Restless Leg Syndrome sitting down. 

My ears perked up because, I was like, hey that’s that thing where I bounce my legs constantly like I’m running a marathon that annoys the heck out of my co-workers.  It said there was some pill for it, that will help calm my gams down, so I was like, sweet maybe I will not use that.  I think the bouncing keeps my legs skinny and I love that because then they have to suffer to hold up the rest of the pear shaped thing above them.

While there is a cure for Restless Leg Syndrome, there is no cure for Restless Bitter Syndrome, bitter known as RBS.  RBS is a disease where your brain is constantly bouncing ideas around your head about bitterness.  While I have always had RBS, it didn’t become a full on disease until about 3 years ago when I started this blog.  My brain would jet from one bad idea to the next, only rarely committing fully to doing a post.  It started manifesting itself everywhere.

Why do railways keep running into me?

Why do railways keep running into me?

In traffic: Why is that guy’s rear bumper always running into my front bumper?  Why does he keep putting a blinking light on the right rear side of his car? What do the red lights mean and why do they always coincide with him slowing down?

On Facebook: Why does this Accept Friend Request button keep popping up on my page? It’s kind of annoying so I just keep hitting it so it will go away.  Why is that person showing me pictures of their surgery? I don’t even know who that is.  What are these quotes about positivity? Why do they make no sense? Why does that stupid red number keep appearing over the world symbol? Is that how many people are going to be crushed by a meteor today?

On Twitter:

Laying on the couch: It’s Monday at 10:30 am.  Was I supposed to be somewhere? Why do we keep getting calls from my work? Why is there this constant beeping when I’m trying to remember this dream? What is this burn in my heart? All I had was a pizza sandwich, some tortellini and a heap of chips and salsa.  Who are these tiny people that keep talking to me and getting in the way of the TV?

Listening to music: When we went inside the grocery store this song was playing.  Now, 15 minutes later, it’s still playing? I didn’t know they played 15 minute songs on the radio. Why does some weird guy with a deep voice keep interrupting the music and talking about the traffic? First my favorite TV show, now my least favorite radio channel? Why are the meadow people interrupting the music?

ARRRRGGGHHHHH

Bitter Restless Ben

Micro dream bitterness

How most of my dreams end.

Why I forget most of my dreams.

You know when you are nodding off at work because you stayed up all night doing an important paper for school or taking care of a sick child or getting a phone call from a friend who was in the hospital and you visited them to make sure they were alright? Yeah, me either.  If I’m up late it’s for video games or a repeat of The Office that I’ve already seen 36 times, and I’m still holding my breath hoping that Angela and Andy are going to get together.  Just kidding, I already know they end up together.

When I do fall asleep at work it usually isn’t for too long.  In fact, most of the time, I’m hyper-vigilant in my noddings so that they only last maybe four or five seconds so I don’t get caught.  Though when you add up all the times I have 4 or 5 second dreams, it usually adds up to abouuuut 8 hours.  Does anyone else have what I call  microdreams? For some reason, I can fall asleep for 4 seconds and have a full fledged dream, usually cooler than the ones I have while sleeping in a bed or on a couch.  It’s the weirdest thing, but it is real.  All I know is that in these microdreams, I get the answers to all the questions of every quiz and test I’ve ever taken and failed at, the blueprints for 40 new inventions, and the key to understanding women.

There is always the bitter side which is, of course, that I can’t remember them 2 seconds after they happen.  If I had a recording tool of some sort, like maybe a pen that wrote down those dreams, or a recording device that went into my brain (in fact, I had a microdream about something that would do that very thing)  then I would be a straight up, full on, Scrouge McDuck billionaire, except for bitter and not a duck. I would be raining haypennies down on the general public for no other reason, except that I could. You would all be scrambling to follow me not only on this blog, but on the sidewalks, desperately hoping to catch a spare haypenny or two.  I would probably stop on a dime, though, so I could pick it up and make you all jealous that you didn’t have one, because you only have haypennies. I would have a vault full of 100’s made into fluffy pillows that I would sleep on.  I would also make remote controls, couches and televisions out of my Benjamin’s and take pictures for all of Instagram to see.

Get ready for a rainstorm of these bad boys.

Get ready for a rainstorm of these bad boys.

But I digress.  You could probably be an almost billionaire like me too, if you had microdreams, but you are all too busy getting 8 hours of sleep at night, and dieting correctly and staying home from work when you don’t get enough sleep. Because of that, you are stuck in your sane lives, having good relationships, enjoying your regular good paying jobs and not having to visit a psychiatrist every Tuesday at 7:00 pm.

Since you are mentally stable, you probably have big dreams like retiring to a ranch or starting your own business.  But I dream much smaller than that.  I have micro dreams that I want to fail miserably at. (Little things that will make your life like you know, 1 times better). Things like:

Someday I hope to be able to spell rhrythm without spell check or Guugle.

I hope to figure out the correct amount in my head on how much to stiff someone on a tip.

I hope to someday figure out how to get trees to stop littering leaves all over my lawn.

I want to figure out how Microsoft has figured out how to make such great products, like Zune, Bing, and Internet Explorer.  Though they do have missteps every once in a while like Windows and Microsoft Office (remember those relics?)

I want to know the reason why people prefer toilet paper rolls to go under instead of over.

I dream of someday figuring out why there are so many rainbows with no pot of gold at the end.

I want to know why Hawaii hasn’t invited my to be its ambassador of laziness.

I'm ready for a nap.

I’m ready for a nap.

Microdreams really do come true.  If you hope and believe and try hard enough, they will all come true.  Actually, none of mine have come true, so if I’m to believed, none of them will come true, but if you dream hard enough, you will get lots of sleep.  But unfortunately, microdreams only give you 4 seconds of sleep which isn’t near enough.  Even if you do it all day long.

ARRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Sorry just nodded off for 4 seconds again.  What were we talking about?

Bitter Asleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep Ben

 

A Bitter Endorsement from my Famous Friends

Need sleepy.

Need sleepy.

I know that none of you are used to being woken up before noon on your day off from your jobs (unless you work on Saturday, in which you have an entirely different reason to be bitter) and your blogs.  Well, I’m not used to being woken this early either, thank you very not at all.  There is a reason I’m up early, though and it’s a really bad one, and I blame among others, the Bloggie Awards.  It looks like I’m desperately trying to get you to vote for me on this last full day of voting, and you would be right.  Coming in second place is vitally important for not only for me, but for humanity.

It's all very scientific, but if there aren't at least 23% bitter in the world it won't rotate right.

It’s all very scientific, but if there aren’t at least 23% bitter in the world will rotate into the sun.

The world is in a bitter imbalance that is keeping it rotating at like 23 degrees and if anything such as me getting third place or worse or winning the whole thing, our world will be doomed.  You should know I’m not totally against the whole apocalypse thing though.  The streets might be destroyed and whatnot for a little while and fires will reign down upon the earth, so it will be a little warm.  But think about if you survive it.  You would get a few days off, cause you know, your boss’s house, car and dreams would be crushed, so there might be a few mandatory, “Meteor shower” days.  And while there would be a lot of construction on the roads, there would also be a lot less traffic.  Also less work to do, unless you are a doctor or nurse.  And you could always call in a “zombie day” when you just aren’t feeling human.

Besides the whole word ending thing if you don’t vote for me, there is also the celebrity endorsers who have come out in support of my second place victory.

Vote for Ben.

Vote for Ben?

Remember Pedro? The current student body president of Preston High School? He has been a big supporter of my campaign since yesterday.  Hear what he has to say.

“Who is this guy, again? Hey, get out of here! I don’t have time to talk to you about some random guy! I’m busy running a school, dang it!” – Pedro, Student Body President, Preston High School

I get so bored when it's not about me.

I get so bored when it’s not about me.

Kim K. is also a big reader of the blog.

“Ughhh, this guy is sooo lame.  Does he think I sit around all day reading his blog? Oh, he does? Well, okay maybe I do.  Butt, But have you seen how few times he has written about me and my fabulous life? I’m kind of a big deal.”

Oprah (Winfrey, she does something, um..I don’t know.  My agent said to include her.)

“Why would this guy have any reason to be bitter? Doesn’t he have his OWN network, his movie deals, an orphanage in Africa, billions of dollars and people catering to his every needs? Oh, wait that is me. What were we talking about?”

I vote for...me.

I vote for…me.

Tony Stark

“I am Iron Man.  Jarvis, can you build me a new house and skyscraper? I kind of destroyed them saving the world from some guy I pissed off in high school and I have to do this congressional hearing thing with Hydra. What was the question again? Oh, I don’t do interview with anyone but hot female reporters.”

Mark Zuckerberg

“Yes, I invented the Facebook, but I’m giving 6% to Justin Timberlake because he told me to remove the the.  That’s worth like a billion dollars right? Bitter Blog? Oh, I don’t read anything on the internet that competes with Facebook.  Besides, leave me alone, I’m coding right now.”

Yeah, right. Superman is Clark Kent? And I bet Santa isn't real too.

Yeah, right. Superman is Clark Kent? And I bet Santa isn’t real too.

Superman

“Bitter Blog? I have nothing to be bitter about.  I have all the powers and a great reporter girlfriend. Just because I have two dead dads, 1 dead mom, and responsible for destroying all of Smallville in the last movie, doesn’t mean to I’m bitter about anything.  You know what his next blog should be? About Kryptonite.  Every one hates that stuff right? Oh and traffic.  I can’t stand when I actually have to drive to work at the Daily Plane, uh I mean fly to save the world on the other side of the world.  I mean, can planes just get out of the way?”

My dead parents...

My dead parents…my billions of dollars…

Batman

“Sometimes, after I defeat the Joker for the 5th time of the week, I like to sit in the Batcave, thinking about my dead parents. Yes, I’m a little bitter. I mean, dead parents, am I right? Plus, having to manage with inheriting billions of dollars and a good name?  Do you have any idea how hard it is to only be a part of Wayne Enterprises in name only and not be involved with the day to day plans? I mean I do have busy knights sometimes.  Oh and I don’t read that blog because I don’t get Wi-Fi in the cave.”

So there you have it.  Some completely not made up ringing endorsements from some big name people telling how you should vote for Pedro, I mean me.

The details ONCE AGAIN, because you haven’t seen them before.

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. I’m at the end under the Weblog of the Year. Voting ends this Sunday, March 22nd at 10 pm EST so if you know what is good for you, you will vote for me.  A VOTE FOR ME, IS A NOT VOTE FOR SPIDERMAN BECAUSE HE IS ONLY A WEBSLINGER, AND DOESN’T HAVE A WEBLOG.

 

ARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH

Bitter Second Place Dreamer Ben

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bitterly Swinging for the Fences Friday Giftures

Yesterday, I was outside because some kid wanted to play baseball in the backyard.  Because I was a master of bitter hitting, where I would either hit it straight into someone else’s glove or I would completely whiff in embarrassing fashion, he thought I might be able to teach him something.  Baseball there is not a subtle sport.  Sometimes, if you are really lucky you might see someone hit a foul ball, or bunt.  Every once in a while someone might even get a base hit. It’s all really exciting, and so random.  You just never know if you might be awakened from a nap, if someone hits a really long fly ball.   The difference between someone who makes a million dollars and someone who makes a quarter of a billion is about .03 percent batting average.  I should have been a baseball player, because do you know how little you have to do? Ugggh.

 

It’s as easy as doing…

...a high five.

…a high five.

Other times it is as hard…

 

...as letting go.

…as letting go.

 

There are pressures though…

...complicated hand shakes.

…like learning complicated hand shakes.

 

Then there is the subtle art of…

...

…not striking out.  In swinging, and in high fiving.

 

It is always important to stretch…

sdfdf

…but not to overstretch.

 

When you stride up to the plate…

dfd

…make sure you bring all your swagger.

 

When swinging the bat…

...don't get gunshy.

…don’t get gun shy.

 

Make sure you are simpatico…

...

…with your teammates.

 

You’ll find that when you do…

...

…there will still be slip ups. 

 

There might also be some slip ups…

...dfdf

…on the hand signals….

 

And some might be a little too eager…

...

…to get started….

 

But if you work hard enough…

...

…you will get a chance to screw even this up.

 

I know you are tired of hearing about this, but this my third to last chance to appeal to all those people that didn’t hear it the first 70 times.  Or the people that are too lazy to go visit a website. Not only do I not care that you are tired of hearing about it, but I have reason to believe that you need to go do it right now.  The NSA and I have been watching where you go on the web and quite frankly, let’s just say…you should go quickly to the website below and vote for me, or…your mom is going to find out where you go, and she’s not gonna like it.  So…do we have a deal? Yeah, I think we do have an understanding.

Soo…

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. Voting ends this Sunday, March 22nd at 10 pm EST so if you know what is good for you, you will vote for me.  REMEMBER, A VOTE FOR ME, IS A VOTE FOR YOU GETTING YOUR PRIVACY.

ARRRRGGGGGHHHH

Bitter Swinging Fences Ben

 

Credit Bitterness

 

Helping kids cry since before the millenium.

Helping kids cry since before the millennium.

All day long at work, I am Santa Claus. Or, more accurately, Bitter Claus. I enter credits. I reign money down upon undeserving corporations like rain comes down on Seattle. I go down people’s virtual chimneys and leave the present of credit in their email boxes.  Even though most of these corps are naughty, I deliver something nice.  Credit passes hands, and I am the delivery boy.  Except unlike Santa, I deliver 265 days a year (Bitter Clause doesn’t work weekends, fools) instead of one. Since I am so practiced at giving credit, and you know what they say, you gotta give credit where credit is due, I am going to give credit to some other people, places and things today.

I’d like to give a credit all my bosses, teachers, civic leaders, government authority, wanna be mentors, etc. for thinking it was okay to boss me around, or tell me what to do.  This helped me come to the bitter conclusion that I am don’t heart authority.  Thanks for making me realize how to be bitter in so many ways.

Yeah

Yeah, I hate the news too. 

Here’s a credit to the media.  I’d like to thank them for their endless search for the “truth” no matter how over the top, unnecessary, or unwatchable it is.  Your obsessive need to report about the biggest idiots to the smallest crimes lead you to report all things bitter.  Ebola, local murders, national murders, mainstream murders, bad weather storms, government laws, tax raises, street awareness, car accidents, crimes against humanity and worst of all crimes against my interest.  It’s because of these things, that I avoid you.

I’d like to give credit to every mosquito that bit me, every ant that annoyed me, every bee stung me, every invisible spider web that made me look like a mental patient, every mouse that wandered our pantry, every bird that woke me up in the early morning and every bear that ate me at night for helping me not like nature.  I don’t come in your forest, don’t come in my house.

A clinic on how to ball hog.

Now THAT is how you ball hog!

I’d like to credit sports, for teaching me about team selfishness.  Basketball taught me the fundamentals, like how to be a ball hog, how to dribble a lot between my legs, how to take the ill-advised contested three and how to look at the stat sheet instead of the final score.  I give credit to baseball for teaching to swing for the fences, instead of getting on base, that three strikes and you’re out. I’d like to credit soccer for teaching me how to be bored, whether it was being a goalie or watching it or paint dry.  I’d also like to thank all those sports for my bad knees, bad shoulder, bad back, and lack of riches they didn’t provide me while missing being a pro by this                                                                                               much.

I’d like to credit restaurants for teaching how quickly I can get full.  A little soda, a lot of appetizers and some really big eyes have made for some very good looking leftovers, a cramped stomach, and pants that need some hemming and a button that can be easily unloosed.

I’d like to credit phones for teaching me how to react just like Pavlov’s dog every time I hear a ring.  (I’m talking like a caveman now.) Phone ring, must answer.  Caller ID say number might be friend, it telemarketer.  It might be day off, but answer call in case it emergency and it just boss asking to work extra shift.  It might be 2 in morning, but answer call, cause might be emergency, just parents calling from Hawaii, forgot time change.

This is one way to get through traffic.

This is one way to get through traffic.

I’d like to credit traffic for teaching me the most inefficient way to get home, how to waste the most gas possible, and a more efficient may to spread rage.  If you are angry at work or home, you can only affect a few, but if you rage in traffic, you are a mobile rage transporter.

I’d like to credit my elementary school cafeteria for teaching me how to fight for the first spot in line, my high school cafeteria for teaching me to fight with other kids, and my college cafeteria for showing me how to fight with food.

I’d like to credit Walmart for teaching other people how to fight for a $99 TV that is already broken, for teaching me how to only open two of the 24 registers, how to stuff as much stuff in the aisles so there is only enough room for zero people to walk in them, and how to appreciate Target so much.

I’d like to credit all my followers for…following me where ever I go.  In the grocery store, in my car, at home.  It’s all a little creepy.  Can you just not? Okay, I gotta go.

I know this sounds like a farewell speech.  No, I’m not dying.  Unfortunately for you, and fortunately for me, I’m not going away.  Not now, not next week, maybe in a couple of weeks, but after that, never! Until never seems like too much work.

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. Voting ends this Sunday, March 22nd at 10 pm EST so if you don’t want that Boring Science Website to win again, vote for me.  IF YOU VOTE FOR ME, YOU WILL GET EXTRA CREDIT

 

AARRRRGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Extra Credit Ben

Storage Unit Bitterness

"I know how to fix it!" Get a new one!

“I know how to fix it!” Get a new one!

There is the younger and shorter individual in my house that has a philosophy about junk that is broken.  You take all the hard earned money of someone else, preferably someone taller and older and you brow beat them into submission until they buy you a new one.  If I did happen to like trees and I took a tiny speck of gold from a piece of jewelry made of a speck of gold and buried it the backyard and if that tree were nurtured by rain (which we have plenty) and didn’t need too much sun (which we have very little of) and if that tree grew to maturity (which I have none of), and if that tree grew branches that had leaves, and if those leaves were made of solid gold bricks, and if those solid gold bricks could then be made into seeds that would produce more solid gold trees, which could then be converted into solid green $100’s, then the younger and shorter person that lives in my house would have a solid philosophy.  But since we don’t have one of those things yet, we have to find a bitter way to deal with junk.

dfdf

This is what you waste every month on your storage unit.

Some EPA philosopher decided the “replace with new” idea wouldn’t work for everyone, so they came up with a “clever way” to deal with junk by giving us three words that started with R’s.   Reduce, reuse, recycle.  That was too many letters for me, so I decided to come up with my own philosophy. Obtain a storage unit, and put all the junk somewhere else.  This is a much more efficient, creative and lazy adult way to waste money. You only waste $50 a month, you can go into denial about thinking you may need an item by storing it away(out of sight, out of mind) and someday, if you are lucky, your locker may appear on a reality show, where you can be embarrassed in front a maybe a million or more people(plus repeats).

It’s a win win win win proposition.  You get to continually pay $50 a month for the rest of your life to store things you will never need again. There is a peace of mind knowing that you could have spent that money on something way more valuable like a potato gun for your next white elephant exchange, a foam finger, dance lessons on groupon that you will never actually use, or $50 a month on your 401K that you will waste at a later date.

This is what people hope is in the safe in your storage unit.

This is what people hope is in the safe in your storage unit.

Then, there is the satisfaction of knowing that someday, you will lose the locker, because of not paying for it for several months.  Then, you get the satisfaction that some idiots on a reality show will that buy your “locker” for several thousand dollars more than they should have, because they saw something in the corner, a safe, that had nothing in it.  But they didn’t know that.  Your idiocy of buying a $1500 safe without having anything of actual value to put in the safe, has prepared you for this moment.  A moment on national TV, where the bidder had to admit they were taken by the hope of the safe, and at the end of the show, in the summary, they were the big loser, because they banked on your storage unit.

The best part of all though, is telling that shorter, younger individual that you couldn’t afford to buy a new Nerf gun because you only have $50 at the end of the month and you haven’t paid your monthly storage unit fee.  He doesn’t need to know that you haven’t been paying that for months and it has been seized and your storage unit is now in the possession of a reality show guy that is getting mad about it right now.  All he needs to know is that we don’t have enough money for the Nerf Gun.  He also doesn’t need to know that I will be buying a new $50 video game that will be in our future storage unit.

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. A VOTE FOR ME WILL BE ONE STORED IN YOUR STORAGE UNIT OF FAVORS I WILL NOT PAY YOU BACK FOR.

ARRRRRGGGGHHHH

Bitter Storage Ben

Wasted Friday Giftures

 

I see you none of you missed me on Wednesday.  No one sent a get well soon card, a stuffed crust pepperoni, or a thermometer.  Remember when I stayed up all night when your blog wasn’t feeling well and your computer had some sort of virus and you wanted me to watch it?  Yeah, well I guess it doesn’t go both ways.  Must be nice when you aren’t feeling well and someone acknowledges you. Don’t worry though, I’m not bitter.  So yeah, not that you care, but I decided to take a sick day on Wednesday, not because I felt like staying home and being lazy (I would have preferred to be at work on Wednesday, because of other people’s kids), or because I was planning a Bitter Ben’s Day Off (Like Ferris Bueller’s but way more bitter) but because I was actually sick.  The worst part of all, was that I had to take a sick day for actually being sick.  Now I’m down to only 586 hours that I can use to guilt my co-workers into doing stuff for me.   What makes me even more bitter is that all this real sickness prevented me from getting “fake” sick yesterday.  You know, what us lazy people call a “long weekend”.  Talk about a waste. In the meantime, I’m gonna leave these wasted gifs right here for everyone else that wasted a sick day, or forgot to send a stuffed crust.

 

Look at all the wasted…

 

fdgfg

…energy Star Wars People spend on their swords when they could have just used Jedi Mind tricks.

 

What a perfectly good waste…

sdf

…of a human this bike just threw off. 

 

Talk about a waste…

...

…there was a perfectly good bowl of Cat Chow at home.

 

You wanna know what isn’t a waste? 

...

…This gif.

 

 

Most Jedi swords are a waste…

...

…unless you include a corkscrew.

 

Besides Kayne singing upside down on the floor…

....

….biggest waste of the 40th Birthday. 

 

 

Just wanted to remind my blog friends in the east coast and the Midwest to remember that you had this constantly this winter…

...

…while we had none. 

 

I mean, I might as well have been…

dsfd

…getting dogpiled this winter as warm as it was here.

 

But I’m sure you’re not mad...

dfdf

…or vengeful.

I assume you aren’t going to tell me to have a nice trip..

...and see me in the fall.

…and see me in the fall….

 

Or get jealous…

...of my pool.

…of my pool.

 

That’s good.  So I won’t need to worry…

...about you killing me in my sleep.

…about you killing me in my sleep, right? Cause that would just be a waste.

 

Speaking of waste, I’m glad I could do that to your time this morning.  If there is any other way I can waste your time, please…hesitate to ask.  There is definitely stupid questions and way stupider answers so feel free to not ask any questions, no matter how smart you think they are.  And have a bitter weekend wasting away your life until you have to come right back here on Monday and read another bitter post.  Unless, I’m sick in which you won’t care.

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. A VOTE FOR ME WILL BE A WASTED VOTE FOR FIRST PLACE.

ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Waste of Time Ben

The Bitter Body Betrayal

Beware the Ides of March.

Beware the Ides of March…

There’s a little day coming up in the not so distant future which often gets overlooked in the pantheon of days of March.  There a lot who would think that St. Patrick’s Day is the only holiday worth celebrating in March despite that fact that no one actually get to take the day off.  If the mail carriers, banks and schools don’t get it off, then we might as well not even celebrate it.  The holiday I’m talking about is the Ides of March, which is the 15th, and is a celebration of Julius Caesar getting betrayed, by getting stabbed in the back.  There are worse ways of getting betrayed though.  Like for instance, how my body is betraying me.

No, not a stabbing at Little Caesars...

No, not a stabbing at Little Caesars…

I don’t know why my knees think it is okay to be sore all the time, but they are.  For some reason, they think it is acceptable to make it hard for me to walk.  I’ve treated these knees like the 15th Man on the San Antonio Spurs.  Rarely do they ever have to do any work.  They sit on the couch at home, or on a seat at work, only rarely having to do any work until I have to get up for the occasional drink, or I have crawl on the ground to get the remote control.  Every once in a while at a doctor’s appointment they have to get tapped and act like they do something.  But for the most part, they are living a sunny day at the beach.  They think they are going to make my life a pain forever, but what they don’t know is that someday, they will be laid off and replaced by some shiny metal.  Right now, they are arrogantly sitting below my desk, propped up, sitting without a care in the world.  What they don’t know is that it is pied piper time soon.  Revenge WILL be mine.

...or taking Aleve whenever I want to.

Always getting on my nerves nerves.

Wanna know who else betrays me on a daily basis? Mister Back himself.  He lays back there, Mr. Invisible, covered up by fancy logos from T-shirts and chairs and always facing the walls, hiding in the shadows.  Meanwhile my back is talking with all kinds of dark forces back there, Darth Vader, Lord Voldemort, and Master Shredder, to name a few, to figure out how to Force Choke the rest of me, by getting on my nerves nerves.  They are teaching him some masterful skills in the art of torture despite the work I do for it, (or actually the lack of work I do, ie laying down, not moving).  My back may look innocent enough, but he’s trying to kill me.  The Back’s day will come though.  He doesn’t know it yet, because he can’t see anything right now (he’s facing my chair), but I’m going to take down his reign of terror by visiting his arch-nemesis, The Chiropractor.  Someday when I get around to visiting The Chiropractor, it will be goodnight to you, Back Pain.

 

I can't take him anywhere.

I can’t take him anywhere.

Then there is the horrible, terrible controlling Stomach.  This guy is the worst.  He is constantly asking for food and water.  He is the biggest jerk though, because he tortures everyone no matter what.  If you give into his demands and give him what HE wants; water, vegetables, brussel sprouts, fruits, kale and other healthy terrible thing things, it is torture for your mouth and esophagus and taste buds.  “I promise I will be quiet and behave if you just eat healthy,” he says, knowing full well that we will all suffer the terrible taste of healthy food. “No more Kale!” the rest of us protest loudly.  So he is down there going, “Okay, feed me whatever you want, but if you do, mass chaos down here. There will be rumbling and bumbling and wailing and moaning and I will reject everything about your pizza and pasta and candy and soda.  The taste buds and mouth may like that stuff, but you are gonna pay for it.  And I will grow and take over, if you send that good tasting stuff down. Eat a salad…or suffer the consequences!”  See how he puts me in a no win situation? Pure betrayal.

All I know is if Caesar could see the utter betrayal going on here, he would welcome the ole Brutus stabbing him in the back.  In fact, Caesar should be thanking Brutus. Brutus got Caesar’s back to shut up.  And Caesar became famous for becoming the only thing that could make a salad tolerable.  Caesar dressing.

 

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. A VOTE FOR ME IS FIGHTING BACK AGAINST YOUR BODY.

 

ARRRRGGGHHHHHHHH

My Back

Bitter Betrayal Ben

 

A Bitter Three Year Old

You know which song you does this to you.

You know which song you does this to you.

You know how when you hear a terrible song, and you just can’t seem to get it out of your head?  Or a jingle from a stupid local car commercial and you want to punch the commercial in the face? You know that three year old kid you see in the store that just won’t stop being annoying, listen to his mom or dad, or sit still in their cart? Well, my blog is now that annoying three year old.  On March 8, 2012 this blog was born and it came crying, screaming and ignored into the world.

Your annoyingly bitter 3 year old blog everyone.

Your annoyingly bitter 3 year old blog, everyone.

Even on its infant first day, this blog was trying to annoy.  Three years later it is still that annoying terrible, yet catchy song in your head that you just want to leave your brain.  It is still the local jingle that you want to punch in the blogs face.  Today is its three year old anniversary, and it is still just as immature, self-centered and irritating. It screams and whines just like a three year old.  To paraphrase what that weird guy Mcbeth Shakespeare guy said once, this blog is told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, but ultimately signifying nothing.

Like that Macbeth Shakespeare guy said, This blog signifies nothing.

Like that Macbeth Shakespeare guy said, This blog is full of sound and fury, but signifies nothing.

On this day where most of us in the US have to set our clock forward, and lose an hour that we will never get back, I have written this blog post, which will probably take you an hour to read and one hour you will never get back, we look back on a blog which whines about stuff that signifies nothing.

To celebrate, you should go out and do something productive like eat a pizza, sit on a couch, don’t open your eyes, go out and don’t make a change in the world.  Be the same that you always didn’t want to be.  Follow your lazy bones.  Use this day to reflect on how you will do nothing better in the next year.  Use this day as an anti-resolution day.  Don’t have cake, don’t move forward, don’t invite your loved ones over to celebrate, don’t send them a Facebook congrats, celebratory text, or call.  Signify nothing.  Be a terrible song that can’t get out of your friends heads.  Act like a three year old.

WWWWWWAAAAARRRRGGGGHHHH

Bitter 3 year old Blog Ben

Defiant Friday Giftures

Teens have a history of rebelling against society.  Hunger Games. Divergent.  100’s of other dystopian novels that have become all the rage these days.  But last night I was watching a classic from the 80’s that most of you weren’t even born when it came out.  The Breakfast Club is a group of 5 random teens at a school that end up in detention that over the course of a Saturday, end up rebelling against not only the oppressive principal that is their prison guard, but against the stereotypes that they all carry coming into the detention.  At the end, (no spoiler warning) 4 of the 5 couple off and show just how “rebellious” they are.  All of these things couldn’t hold a candle to how I defied society last night.  When my internet and phone service went down, thus crippling my family of having any sort of connection with society and the world almost ending, I called from a phone that wasn’t my home phone and told them to fix it, or I would be very bitter with them.  They said it was some stupid power plant and that it wouldn’t be fixed until 1 am, but because I called, they fixed in less than an hour.  Take that Comcast Xfinity whatever you are! I defy you. On to the giftures you are really here for.

I will not stay…

 

...stay in your oppressive mouth.

…in your oppressive mouth.

You cannot keep…

...your sugary beverages from me.

…your sugary beverages from my stupid mouth.

You will not repress me…

...me from rising up against you.

… from rising up against you.

 

You can’t hold me down…

...from going Footloose.

…from going Footloose.

 

You can’t keep me from…

...or taking Aleve whenever I want to.

…taking Aleve whenever I want to.

 

Or…

anigif_enhanced-buzz-10089-1387398990-6

…panicking whenever I feel like it.

 

Or…

...entering whatever world I want to visit.

…going to Disney World if I want.

 

Or…

...drinking with my feet.

…drinking with my feet.

 

Or…

...starting my own kingdom.

…starting my own kingdom.

 

Or…

...refusing to learn math.

…refusing to learn math.

 

Or using the bathroom…

...whenever I want.

…whenever I want.

Or…

...play in the streets if I want to.

…play in the streets if I want to.

 

Now get out of here and go against the grain.  Fight against society.  Vote for someone you know won’t win.

Like this guy pointing his two thumbs at himself.

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year. A VOTE FOR ME IS A VOTE AGAINST SOCIETY.

ARRRRRGGGHHHHH

Bitter Defy Guy Ben

Bitter Extreme Makeover

Time to blow this thing up!

Time to blow this thing up!

It’s time. I can’t take this blog anymore. It’s gonna get blown up to bits and pieces and rebuilt from the bottom up to be a much bitter blog.  Wow.  Really? You thought I was going to do any work at all on this thing? Come on.  No. I’m not changing this blog. That would be what nice people call that volunteering.  Bitter people call that NOPE! If I remodel this time it’s gonna be done by Ty Pennington, of the old Extreme Home Makeover’s show.  I think they stopped that show because every home in America had already been done except mine.  Thanks a ton, Ty.  Everyday I have to drive by all these stupid houses that you build because my neighbors had a need.  Some had a stomach ache. Others couldn’t stand the color of their wallpaper.  One guy down the street had a hangnail and they rebuilt his house.  He’s never even there! Why? Why?

Step aside people.  We need to cut this thing down for some coupons!

Step aside people. We need to cut the world’s tallest tree for some coupons!

Then last night I’m watching, wait for it…yes Extreme Couponing.  This is a thing.  Do you know what a coupon is? Someone knocked down a tree(thanks by the way, they were blocking my view and littering on my lawn) beat the dead skin into a bloody pulp, smoothed it to a 1 weight, decide that piece wasn’t good enough to be resume paper and discarded into the trash.  Some hippie pulled that thing from the trash, put it in recycle where its “supposed” to go, and it got beat to a pulp again.  Then with some smoothing and buffing this piece of paper shined. It was given a sheen so shiny that it could almost reflect the ugly face of the person who dug this thing out from a Tuesday newspaper from the trash.  All this so it could be used by some crazy person who thinks that they need 800 bottles of Gatorade, for $.30 so it can it in their stockpile.  Yes, a stockpile. Apparently if the apocolypse comes, they will survive on Gatorade and paper towels.  If I were them, I would use the Gatorade to repel the zombies.  No one looks watered down electrolytes.

All this extremeing got me thinking.  We can do way better and way more extreme. Snap into a Slim Jim Extreme.  I have a bunch of ideas, but keep them secret please.  I don’t want desperate executives of Network Television knocking down my door, arresting me for having an idead, putting me under an EXTREME spotlight, and giving me a reality show detector test.  So here are my super secret ideas.

Except with another kid jouster.

Except with another kid jouster.

Extreme neighborhood kid bike fights – This one will set the world on fire, at least I hope it sets my neighborhood kids on fire (metaphorically of course if homeland security happens to read this). We build two huge opposing ramps up, set some rings on fire, and have ourselves a modern day jousting tournament.  Last kid standing gets to never come to our house and ever bother us again.

Extreme texting wars – In a world (imagine my movie trailer voice), where a bored teenager must be hit send to release a useless jumble of letter and emojicons from their phone, shot up in light speed to a sophisticated billion dollar space satellite, then returned at warp speed back to earth, to another bored teenager sitting right next to them to tell them that their phone sucks and they are so bored in the least amount of fingerstrokes and effort wins the Extreme Texting Wars.

Extreme tape taping – Do you think you have what it takes? I SAID, DO YOU THINK YOU HAVE WHAT IT TAKES? To get your Scotch on?  To be the fastest tape dispenser in West Covina?  Are you a tapeslinger of epic proportions? Have you been perfecting your five finger tape stick technique to a matted shine? Are you obsessed with the even strips and the perfect equidistanting of tape across the four corners of a present? Then you may have what it takes to be the Next Extreme Tape Dispensing Master!

Extreme internet trolling – You may think you can make fun of people on the internet.  You may think you have what it takes to frustrate and incense people on their blogs, websites, forums and internet search sites.  But your jaw will drop when you see these amazingly annoying trolls incense even a three year old with no experience in the getting mad.  You will despise watching them, but you just won’t be able to look away.

Not to be confused with Doodle Jump.

Not to be confused with Doodle Jump.

Extreme Wackadoodling – For far too long, this extreme sport has been a ghost, an underground phenomenon, a vapor, even more secret than the Fight Club itself.  Our brave host and cameramen, at the risk of their very lives, film and expose this dangerously wacky, eccentric group of overzealous grandma’s and grandpa’s as they extreme fight their weirdness.  This gritty and dangerous world will make you gasp, will light a fire to your senses and melt your brainwaves.  Tune in, if you dare.

I apologize to any viewer who might be offended by the EXTREMENESS of these ideas(my lawyers say I have to say that, but I don’t really have to mean it).  I know you don’t have the guts to watch any of these reality shows because you don’t have the EXTREME GENE that I do.  But I welcome you to try.  That will be amusement to me and trust me, that will be filmed and become my next reality show.  So BRING IT ON!

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year.  GO VOTE IN AN EXTREME MANNER!

ARRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH

Bitterly EXTREME Ben

 

Bitter Business Bureau

The dentist will see you now.

The dentist will see you now.

It seems like everytime I turn around, some idiot is setting me up with a dentist appointment.  As you might have just surmised, I set a dentist appointment for today.  A lot of people I know would brush extra hard and floss just right today, but I don’t.  First of all, is any amount of brushing done today (or flossing? nah, hurts too much) going to reverse all the damage and neglect you’ve been doing for the last six months? Maybe, if you are an extra good brusher, or a super famous flosser, something different will happen today.  But you are not, and the same thing will happen.  The dentist will writhe in pain as he looks at your 6 cavities, and will gasp at the gums you’ve so carefully ignored.  Besides, by the time the “dentist” comes around to check your teeth the hygienist has picked at you like a miner looking for cavity gold, they’ve flossed you until your gums literally bleed, and they’ve drilled you with industrial strength excavator looking not only for your plaque but all the plaque that has ever been created by mankind.  Now that I think about it, why do I only set a dentist appointment every six months? Why don’t these guys and girls just come to my house twice a day if they are so concerned about my teeth being in such great shape? If they don’t, I think I might just report them to the the Bitter Business Bureau.

Alright, go ahead and tell me again, cause I wasn't listening.

Our motto: “We can hear you, but we aren’t listening.”

You know the Bitter Business Bureau.  The organization run by yours truly, whose motto is, “We can hear you, but we aren’t listening.”  We are an agency that is dedicated, even obsessed about both businesses and the consumers the busy them. We are there to make sure that the highest possible amount of misunderstanding takes place in every transaction.  Is a local business in your area showing you the level of disrespect that you crave? Was there some kind of customer service done well that you want changed to your dissatisfaction? Well, give us all call, and go through our multi-treed menus to nowhere.  If you need us there right away, text us and we will not be there, right away for you.  If a Fortune 500 company is out there looking out for your needs, fax us.  We have live robots right next to the fax machine ready to shred your complaints immediately after you send them in.

Pssst.  I'm wearing Khaki's.

Pssst. I’m wearing Khaki’s.

Is Jake from State Farm calling you at two in the morning, whispering creepily to your husband about his khakis?  Is Flo from Progressive Insurance hanging out in alleyways trying to give you some device give your car some “unfair advantages” or “performance enhancing” fuel? Is Burger King’s King staring in an inappropriate way so he can offer you a free delicious Whopper?  Or is  Ronald the Clown from McDonald’s following you around trying to extra as-salt your fries?  Register a complaint with the Bitter Business Bureau and we will be on there…at our desks, napping and drooling because we just ate a delicious pizza, from the creepy Little Caesar’s guy wearing a dress, some leftover garland on his head, and a trident he borrowed from Aquaman to spear pizzas.

Dude, you don't have to dress up.  Just get us a bacon pizza stat.

Dude, you don’t have to dress up. Just get us a bacon pizza stat.

The Bitter Business Bureau is there to fight for your case…of soda.  We are on your side…of beef.  If you are uncomfortable, we are really comfortable.  If you feel neglected, we feel like we had a big part in that.  If you feel used by the system, we feel like we built the system customized to meet your every use.  Just like with your neighborhood kids, we are there to hear what you are saying, but we are extra carefully not listening to you.

We can’t wait to ignore your every need!  Please remember to call, phone us, dial your phone, or ring your telly.  Also fax us, email us, text us, or come visit us in prison, person.

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Remember to visit the Weblog Award Page and help me meet my goal of second place finish in the 2015 Weblog of the Year.  Cause those other pages are sooo boring.  And cutting down others will always make you look bitter, better.

ARRRRGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Ben’s Bitter Business Bureau

Bitter Blogger of the Year

Make me your second place! (or first loser)

Campaigning and complaining for your second place vote. (or first loser if you prefer).

Hey bitter blog followers.  Remember way back in like, January when it was all snowy in the North and East and stuff and people were bitterly complaining about how much snow there was? Remember how bitter you were and you woke up that morning and saw a post of mine called “Help Me Become Number 2?”

This is how closely I want to lose by.

This is how closely I want to lose by.

It was a post about these award thingys they hold every year that are way more prestigious than the Oscars, the Grammys or the Nickelodeon Slimmy Awards, called the Bloggy Awards.  Anyways, I did a campaign and asked that all of my followers vote for me so I could get second place, a bitter person’s favorite because we are just this close(imagine my finger holding a little space between it.)  Think of all the bitter second place winners, the San Antonio Spurs of 2013, the Silver Medalist USA Basketball team of 1972, the 2015 Seattle Seahawks.  Bitter crushing losses.  And according to Nike or some other slogan writer who probably doesn’t even get credit, second place is the first loser.  See how important it is for me to get second place? So I can be bitter for my whole life, knowing I was that close and just didn’t win by one vote. Do you know how much that could mean for my bitter self esteem?

The feeling I want to experience.

The feeling I want to experience(the middle guy of course).

So my rambling has no point except for somehow enough of you nominated me to become a finalist in the Weblog of the Year(whatever a weblog is). It is now your duty to visit this link and also pass along the word to your followers to vote my second placedness.  Do it for all bitter kind.  You could be the difference between me being normal bitter or me being a legendarily bitter person.  Go visit the polls today…or I will hunt you down….

ARRRRRRGHHHHHHH

Bitterly Secondary Ben

Tricky Bitter Giftures

This has been a weird week because not only have I had to do stuff at work, but also when I got home I’ve had to do stuff.  You know those times I’m talking about.  When you can’t go home and immediately change into you sweats and melt into the couch with the remote and a pizza?  You know, when you kids have things and stuff?  Yeah, it was a tricky week for me and one that gave me bitter headaches and crazy nightmares every night.  How am I expected to do like two things every day?  I know I don’t have multitask them, but two things? That is too much for me mentally.  It’s like juggling two things in the air and that is just way too much.  I just wonder how people do two things at the SAME TIME! It must be exhausting.

 

This guy not only candled his head…

dfdf

…but held a bowl.  See how doing two things burn you? 

 

This guy was trying to play…

poo

…two many kinds of pool. 

 

Standing on a stage AND performing…

standing

…has never been a piece of cake (or pie) for me.

 

Tabling and staying upright…

sdfdf

…are not real stabling for me.

 

There’s just so much pressure…

anigif_optimized-8262-1424430179-4

…I mean to live up to expectations…I mean in this water gun.

 

 

 

I’m so smart…

anigif_optimized-11454-1424731038-3

…that I can do two things well. Throw stuff at the wall and fall down..

 

 

I get so frazzled…

dfdf

…when I have to predict the future. 

 

Now throwing stuff at others…

dfdf

…and laughing when they fall? That is two things I can do at the same time.

 

This kid can do more things at his age…

this

…than I’ve done my entire life.

 Walking and…

sdfd

…avoiding attack from Sub-Zero? In my dreams…

If I can stand still enough…

Se

…I can avoid my 36th arrow.

And worst of all…

..DO NOT make me have to raise the corners of my mouth.  That is just cruel and unusual.

..DO NOT make me have to raise the corners of my mouth. That is just cruel and unusual.

 

So that is my thing of the day.  Don’t expect me to do anything else today.  Except scarf some pizza.

ARRRGGGHHHH

Bitter Tricky Ben

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Bitter Time out for Adults

Get to bed, bitter underling.

Get to bed, bitter underling.

 

I’m getting a little tired of telling my kids to get to bed.  Tired of telling them to eat their ice cream for dinner and tired of telling them to shower once a month, tired of telling them to bring me the remote control over and over again.  I’m tired of them making me go outside and move around.  I’m tired of telling them to put the seat up, and I’m tired of telling them to cough on people on not into their hands or arms.  Clearly, I’m a little tired.  Mostly, I’m tired of telling them that they are in time out, because why should I have to count down the minutes they should be there?  More importantly why can’t I be in time out? Oh right, because that would be a reward.  You know who needs a time out? Adults.  But not a time away from society.  We need different punishments. Like perhaps:

Quit fighting.

Quit fighting.

Celebrities.  In the adult world, these are the two year old spoiled brats that think the world revolves around them.  They have evidence that it does, because they assistants bring them the sun and show everyone how it revolves around them.  For that, they are getting a time out.  We are taking away your phones, Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, your website, your swag bags, and your make up.  In addition, you are grounded from your agents, publicists, lawyers, assistants, posse and make up artists. None of them can come over and play for two weeks.

Stop oversharing.

Stop oversharing.

Your Facebook friends: If they don’t stop oversharing, putting up stupid quotes, liking every post, putting hashtags on every word, relinking every story on Buzzfeed, sending me requests to play Candy Crush, your posting privileges will be revoked for two weeks. In addition, you will have to start an online journal called a blog on Blogger so you can make some new friends.

Politicians: If they don’t stop lying to everyone, then Momerica is going to take away their allowance for four years.  No fund raisers, no illegal bribes, no salary, and no budgets.  They will have to figure out how to keep their promises living the same way all their friends live.

No allowance for you.

No allowance for you.

Weathercasters: Al Roker and all his local cronies better stop bullying us into thinking we can wear a short sleeve shirt when it actually snows or telling it to snow all February.  He also better stop taunting us with Phoenix and Hawaii weather in the winter and California weather anytime.  If he doesn’t stop he will suffer the same time out that Bill Murray did.  The Groundhog Day punishment.

Stop telling us the wrong weather.

Stop telling us the wrong weather.

Commercials: Stop being acting so bad.  Stop annoying your sister with S.A.M. in your pants or your uncle about how he can save on car insurance in 15 minutes or less, or Rob Lowe with his cousin poor decision making Rob Lowe.  If you don’t stop, then we are taking away your TV privileges.

No more TV.

No more TV.

Telemarketers: If you don’t stop calling people late at night, your phone privileges will be revoked.

No more phone for you.

No more phone for you.

Car Salesman: Quit annoying everyone that comes to your room.  Just because they stop buy to look at your cars, doesn’t mean they want to buy one.  If you don’t stop, I’m taking away your driver’s license.

Your driver's liscense is revoked.

Your driver’s license is revoked.

Refrigerator: If you don’t stop taunting your family every time they walk by, you are going on a diet.

Doctors: Stop making people wait in the waiting room just so you can tell them that there is nothing we can do or prescribe the same medicine you have already been taking, or we are taking away your waiting room.

Movie concessions: If you don’t stop charging an arm and a leg, we aren’t going to let you go out to watch any movies with your friends.

Bitter Ben: If you don’t stop being bitter, cranky, or sarcastic, we are going to make you come out of your room and talk to people.

NOOOOOOOO! I would rather die than come out of my room! I’m not coming out! Do you hear meeeee!

AAAARRRRGGGGHHHH

Bitter Time Out Ben

The Bitter Owner’s Manual

bosh_avengers

Like a Bosh through a portal, out pops the dreaded “Owner’s Manual”.

 

Some people I know like to build Legos.  Or rebuild engines.  Or fix computers.  Or put together furniture. Or mend relationships. For some reason, when they do these things, they think it brings some sort of order to the universe.  It doesn’t.  What they don’t know is that it brings something evil screaming into the world like Loki brought the Chitauri into the portal on earth.  The unholy and evil Owner’s Manual.  These wretched spawns are supposed to be a step by step process of how to build, fix or repair something.  Some of them are just a list, some are pictures and some are lists and pictures.  But the one thing that is universally included in all Owner’s Manual’s is something that will make even the smartest, sanest person alive as destructive as Wreck-It Ralph.  Missing steps.  In the Owner’s Manual program in colleges, they teach this as a necessary step. There is no owner’s manual to becoming bitter, but I do have a list of a few things that will help along those lines (and there are also some missing steps, per the traditional owner’s manual).

Fail to plan, so you can plan to fail – Everyone thinks it take so much dedication and planning to become bitter like this, but it doesn’t.  It takes a lot of things, but planning isn’t one of them. Bad manners maybe.  Unrealistic expectation, certainly, but planning never.  Do you think I sit around writing steps on how to avoid work at work all day? No.  It’s just a spontaneous thing.  Will I read other blogs? Will it be ESPN that day, or IGN.com, or will I take long breaks in the break room.  You can’t plan these things.  Things come up all the time that can get in the way of your “plan”.  You just have to be ready for anything when it comes to avoiding work.

Focus on your Failures – A lot of good things can happen during the day.  You might get a raise, a promotion, or your boss might be gone for the day or week or month.  Some people might find those things to be really great and that is just not something that will help you be bitter.  You must learn to find the bitter in things.  For instance, you got a raise? Awesome, now you have to pay more taxes, more people are going to want money from you, and now you will have to buy a Lamborghini that is even less fuel efficient than your current stupid car.  And that will make it so you get to work earlier.  Who wants that?  And a promotion? Why would I want to do more work again?

Looks good, but get's you to work too early, has bad gas mileage, isn't the Batmobile.

Looks good, but get’s you to work too early, has bad gas mileage, isn’t the Batmobile.

Don’t Finish Things – If you have an owner’s manual, this might cause you to finish something. How is that good? If someone knows you are good at finishing things, then they will depend on you. Then more work comes your way and something way worse.  Trust.  And the only thing that comes with trust, is pressure to always be there for someone in their times of need.  That means less time on the couch, sharing your pizza, and “listening to someone’s feelings”.  Seriously don’t have time for any of those things.

When you are in the zone, take a break – You know what it’s like to be in the zone right? Ideas are flowing, brush strokes are flying, the video game controllers is practically molded directly into your hands, all your dreams are coming true(you better wake up, you’re late for work).  And you think that the “zone” will last forever, so you take a break.  I don’t need to write those ideas down.  I’ll just put the paint brush down for a little.  I’ll just push pause on the game to “listen to family members” talking about something.  I’ll just wake up and completely remember the codes to the bank vault.  And when you come back the zone will completely come back right?

You're in the zone, taking pictures, then you take a break...

You’re in the zone, taking pictures, then you take a break…

Take shortcuts.  They key to unsuccessfulness in bitterness, is to take shortcuts.  Walk on people’s grass instead of their sidewalks.  While driving, don’t come to a complete stop, roll on through.  At a long red light, cut through that gas station to get to the other side.  At work, cut out of meetings for “an appointment” or “you have to go to the bathroom”.  When buying clothes, claim there is tiny hole and get a discount.  When learning how to fly, you don’t need an airplane, just a really good catapult and a set of something that kind of looks like wings.  When becoming a basketball player, just be really good at sitting on a bench, fake clapping encouragement, and work on your towel waving ability.

Buy Expensive things that have fatal flaws.  – Buy super nice computers that just have bad motherboards.  Buy expensive refrigerators that have ice makers that fail instantly.  Buy an expensive car that has automatic everything that is controlled by a computer run by Windows.  Buy a smart phone that has a dumb battery and that allows phone calls.  Buy a blog domain that includes the name bensbitterblog.

Passive Aggressiveness – Passive aggressiveness is good for no one.  But just because it isn’t good for anyone, doesn’t mean it isn’t my standard operating procedure.  Sarcasm is my favorite use of passive aggressiveness.  I use it to tell someone how much I can’t stand them, and the idiots that I use it with, don’t understand sarcasm, so it accomplishes nothing.  I won’t ever stop using it on them, and they won’t ever learn that I am totally tearing them down.  Bitterness personified.

See how useless owner’s manuals are? See how useless my advice to you is? See how much time both you and I have wasted going through this whole process? I will never get the 20 minutes back that it took to write this and you will never get the 5 seconds back that you wasted looking at the title of this blog and moving on very quickly.  It was a waste for all and a cause for bitterness.

 

ARRRRRRRGGGGHHHH

Bitter Owner’s Manual Ben

Glutton for Punishment Giftures

Every afternoon, I leave my crazy job for a little bit and go to the break room.  I grab my smart phone and turn on the big screen TV and I watch that game show called Let’s Make a Deal.  You know, the one where people dress up like deranged lunatics on Halloween so they get a minor chance to get a minor prize. Winning a prize like a car is about the same chance as winning the lottery, but with the additional burden of having to pay tax on the car.  Obviously, I prefer when people get Zonks, the life equivalent of getting to stay in a nice hotel, only to be kicked out in the middle of the night.  Somehow, despite the fact that I enjoy seeing people get too greedy and then lose it all on a Zonk, there is constant screaming on this show.  Any time somebody mentions money, or car or who’s my next contestant, the crowd goes into a frenzy like they inherited Bill Gates massive fortune and they will be swimming in his money vault right now.  I know that in order to make it on the show they are told they have to act that way, but I can’t stand screaming people.  And yet, here I am, everyday watching this crap.  I must be a glutton for punishment.  Today, I think we should view some other bitter people like me that are gluttons for punishment. (By the way, this post is dedicated to Jamie of FitsofWit. She thinks every week, I put gifs on here that don’t show the conclusion.  Here you Jamie.  All of them show the disaster happening. And I’m not talking about this blog disaster.)

 

This guy wanted to video bomb so bad…

This

…that he hit the wall. 

 

According to the Chinese Lunar Calendar this is the year of the sheep…

...

…not the Ram.  

 

This guy is starting his Mardi Gras off in style…

dfd

…and on fire. 

 

This guy needs to make like a tree…

dfd

…and get out of here.

 

This guy is taking a crash course…

dfd

…in Karma. 

 

 

This guy is just…

dfd

…a pain in the glass. 

 

This girl has a…

dff

…pretty explosive fastball.

 

This is what happens when you…

df

…party like a Hulk star.

 

Guess after this stunt…

dfdf

…he got fired.

 

 

This is why…

sdf

…I don’t exercise. 

 

This one is a…

dfdsf

…catastrophe.

 

This is why…

dsf

…I have avoidance issues.

Speaking of being a glutton for punishment, a fellow blogger of ours, Samantha over at Flowers and Wanderlust wanted to interview me for some reason, and did.  If you want to support her in her glutton for punishmentness, you can go over to her blog and check it out, and if you are a glutton for punishment and want to read about what I am like in real life, check out her interview with me.  I apologize for this in advance.  Not really.  Now get out here and go get gluttonous for punishment this weekend.

ARRRRRGGGHHHH

Bitter Glutton Ben

Clothes need to start doing more

Smartphones just a few steps from replacing your brain.

Smartphones are just a few steps from replacing your brain.

Smart phones are useful because they do like more than one thing.  They actually do like 3 things.  They text (with your permission, of course) they run apps, and they run the internet like a mini-boss.  If you have a cool smart phone and don’t depend on it to ignore people on a regular basis, you should be stripped of you smartphone privileges and sent to Nokia jail where you may only use your phone only for making a calls, which as you know, nobody picks up.  You may text, but it will be painful.  You will not be allowed to use the fancy touchscreen method that everyone else uses, but forced to use the alphanumeric buttons just to get one letter.  And you will be forced to do that until you can figure out how to despise other people.  Phones aren’t meant to be used like Graham Bell intended, but the way Jobs intended.  They are supposed to be everything but the kitchen sink, because who wants to do the dishes with a phone? Point being the phone was stupid until Jobs came around and made it useful.

I am going to be the Jobs of clothes.  On the scale of 1 to Smartphones, clothes rank below useless.  Yes, they do prevent me from being arrested in public by the E! channel’s Fashion Police, if I was famous, but I’m not, so they don’t even do that. Clothes are boring and lazy, and that isn’t acceptable, because those are my jobs.  If they were real people, they would be a bane to society and people would be telling them to go get a job, hippy. They suck so bad, that as soon as I don’t have to, I’m like:

When I get home...

The second I get home…

It’s time for two smart people with e’s in their names, an entrepreneur and an engineer, to come to me for some ideas on how to make clothes a little more interesting and versatile and me less bitter about them.

Are you listening E & E? I propose the following ideas:

Clothes should fit.  Cause duh…Yes, I know, a groundbreaking idea. Just this last year, the Spurs won the championship.  I was excited and immediately went to the NBA website to pick out a shirt I could wear in the next few weeks to show off the fact that I played 35 minutes a game and was the difference maker in them winning.  But when I went to find a shirt, none of them had my size.  I don’t ask for much in a shirt, except for it not to be a belly shirt.  I want it to fit.  Does the NBA only think that skinny people wear their shirts, because how could you like a sport if you had a bitter gut? l don’t ask much clothes, but for you to fit.  So E&E, invent clothes that change and expand to your wearer’s.  If I find a shirt I like, I don’t want to have to worry about the size.  Not a one size fits all, but a shirt that changes with you.  Is that such a hard thing to do?

Medicine dispenser – I sometimes forget to take my medicine at night because it isn’t always part of my routine.  But every single day, I make sure to have clothes on.  So clothes need the medicine feature.  Give me an automatic reminder, store it in the clothes somewhere, just make it so I don’t forget.

If a Toy Story Lego can tell the time, then clothes certainly should be able to.

If a Toy Story Lego can tell the time, then clothes certainly should be able to.

Tell the time – I could count on my fingers and toes at least two things out there that tell me the time.  My smartphone and my watch.  I haven’t worn a watch for a millenium or so (1999?) but at least it could tell me the time.  If you want to keep up with the Phones’s, you need to at least be able to tell me the time.  Even Flavor Flav as completely out of his mind as he is, could  tell me the time.

Hydrate and Nourish –  Nike and a few others have taught clothes a little lesson on keeping moisture out of clothes, with that dry wick stuff, but how about keeping me hydrated and nourished? At work, any time I want to get something to drink, I have to get up from my chair, walk all these steps to a break room kitchen, get a cup, put some ice in it, then push another button to store the water in the cup.  Then I have to walk back, grab the cup and hold it up to my face hole and drink it.  In the process, all kinds of things can happen.  I could spill the ice, or the water at any point in this process (and believe me, I have).  Let’s eliminate the middle man and just make the clothes do it directly.  Then, we can fire the middle management.  And you wouldn’t believe how much time it would save for me on the food part.

Yes like that Adam.

Adam Sandler had the right idea. 

Music Player – You’ve heard of the Ipod right? Yeah it is too big, I agree.  But have you heard of the Ipod shuffle? How hard would it be to incorporate a music player into the clothes? And for the player to read my mind when it came to what kind I want to be playing everytime? When I am walking in slow motion with explosions behind me, I want the music to be blaring the appropriate, “Wow, that guy is cool” music behind me.  When I am feeling emo and bitter, I want to music give people just the right “go away” vibe I’m looking for.  And when I am driving home, I should only have to be distracted by my phone, not my Ipod.

Self cleaning – All the above ideas probably wouldn’t make sense if this feature weren’t included.  And I feel bad for Tide and Maytag and all those people who love doing laundry, but we will be laying you off soon, so just update your resumes.  For all the nothing that clothes do, they are so much work.  We wear them once, we then have to throw them on the floor, then eventually pick them up, then put them to stink next to each other in a laundry basket for a week.  Then we have to sort them, then pre-treat them, then put them in a washer, then put a sheet in with them so they smell like a summer day, then we have to iron them, then fold them, hang them up, wear them once and the cycle starts all over again.  All this for something that barely does anything for us.  I should be able to throw them on the floor and in 10 minutes they are clean and folded for me, so I can re-wear them to an important business meeting.

Nobody has time for this...except my pants.

Nobody has time for this…except my pants.

Do math – I don’t like math and neither do you.  If I want to have a job creating video games, I need to know math.  Or more importantly, my clothes need to know math. So I can do important things like inventing monsters to stalk the victim hero.

We are sick and tired of your crap, clothes.  Stop being such a menace to society, and start stepping up your game.  If not, I’m going to stop wearing you, and nobody wants that.

ARRRRRRGGGGHHHHH

Bitter Clothing Horse Ben

Bitteraffirmations

 

If there is a picture behind it, and quotes somewhere, it must be real.

If there is a picture behind it, and quotes somewhere, it must be real.

I don’t know if you’ve heard of this phenomenon called Facebook, but it’s what they call a Social Network where you and some people you call “friends” become even closer as friends by connecting through a computer box.  Here is what happens.  You go to this website http://www.facebook.com and you fill out all kinds of invasive questions about yourself that would make even a doctor blush, like your name, your home address, your cell phone where you can be reached at all hours of the day, and where you went to freaking high school.  Then Facebook continues to help you feel invaded by asking you share these intimate details with OTHER people.  People that you know.  Like your mom and your dad, your brothers and sisters, and then really close friends, like that one guy you went to high school with.  You know that pipsqueak freshman you made fun of that is now a pro MMA fighter? Yeah, now he wants to be “friends” with you so he can hunt you down and beat the crap out of you.  Luckily, Facebook is perfect in every other way and doesn’t get people wanting to rage quit every other day, because of all the things their friend of a friend of a friend overshares everyday.  It also allows you to add pictures so your friend of a friend of a friend can stalk you and figure out where you were on vacation, so they can rob and plunder your house. All these great things pale in comparison to the best part of Facebook.  You MUST find a friend or 20 that posts Inspirational Quotes 40 times a day, so when you wake up, you can find purpose in your day.  Like a goal…of wanting to hunt them down and tell them to stop posting them.

Just like some people like to live tweet events, (tweeting what they think about the Oscars, or Super Bowl), I’m going to live Facebook some quotes right off my feed this morning.  I’m going to take these quotes and show you how bitter they can easily become. Let’s hope that my lame friends don’t disappoint (don’t worry, they will) and give me the cheesiest of quotes that I can twist around and use to give you some Bitteraffirmations this morning.  I’m sure you won’t thank me later.

Liam Neeson is coming for you.

Liam Neeson is coming for you.

Facebook Quote #1: “Fact: The first person you think of in the morning and the last person you think of at night is either the cause of your happiness or the cause of your pain.”  Bitteraffirmation: Let’s hope that didn’t just see Taken, Taken 2, or Taken 3 right before bed.  Because Liam Neeson doesn’t know who you are, but since you kidnapped his daughter, he wants you to know that he has a particular set of skills…

Facebook Quote #2:”It’s not about who is real to your face.  It’s about who stays real behind your back.”  Bitteraffirmation: What is someone doing behind you, anyways? Are they trying to see what you are up to on your computer? Are they stalking you on the way home? Are they trying to see the worst part of your profile? Stop being sneaky in the back and annoy me to my face…

Facebook Quote #3: Historically, there is a saying in the scientific community, that every great scientific truth goes through three phases. First, people deny it.  Second, they say it conflicts with the Bible. Third, they say they’ve known it all along.” Bitteraffirmation:  Can’t be true, because as we all know, Twitter IS science, and on there, first people say it, second they regret it, and third they move on because, “Squirrel!”

Squirrel

Facebook Quote #4: “It’s not wrong to be upset. It’s not wrong to cry. It’s not wrong to want attention. It’s not even wrong to scream or throw a fit. What is wrong is to keep it all inside.  What is wrong is to blame and punish yourself for simply being human. What is wrong is to never be heard and to be alone in your pain. Share it. Let it out.” Bitteraffirmation: I don’t know who’s mother told them it was okay to throw a fit, but that is not okay.  And who is the chump that ever solved any problems by sharing them with others? Don’t they know that the best way to overcome problems is to sweep them away in the dark recesses of your brain and keep them there until one day you can use them for revenge in the exact moment you need them?

Facebook Quote #5: “My mother always told me if you can’t say something nice, don’t say anything at all.” Bitteraffirmation: Well, you know what your dad would tell you if you were my son or daughter? If you can’t say something nice, make sure you say it behind their back to all their friends and help them lose all credibility.

Facebook Quote #6: “Nothing is permanent in this crazy world, not even your mistakes, failures, or troubles. So laugh at the confusion, live consciously in the moment, and enjoy your life as it unfolds. You might not be exactly where you had intended to go, but you are precisely where you need to be to take the next best step forward.” First of all, yeah that stain in my shirt is pretty permanent.  I’ve tried oxyclean and not even that could get it out.  Second, I’m not precisely where I need to be to take the next step forward because I’m sitting right now.

My favorite quote of all comes from the Bitter Philosopher Ben’s Fortune Cookie: “If there is any way possible, fake sick and go back to bed.  This is the only way you will enjoy work today. And your unlucky number is 1,7, 21 and 42.”

ARRRRGGHHHH

Bitter Bitteaffirmationalist Ben