Fun with bathroom scales

If you're a typical beer swilling, rare steak eating, bear wrestling man, odds are you don't see much use in buying a bathroom scale. Watching your diet, trying to exercise regularly, and monitoring your weight is for wimpy little fags. Any guy who actually tries to keep tabs on his weight will never get an accurate rating because their girdle, tiara, and tampons will throw off the number.

One time I noticed my ever-expanding beer gut and started to legitimately worry about my weight. I didn't worry enough to do anything crazy like make any sort of significant change to my lifestyle or habits, but I did decide to drink a bottle of rum with Diet Coke instead of my usual regular sugar-packed soda. It's like when I get a fried chicken BLT with extra ranch dressing with large fries and a Diet Coke at McDonalds. At this point I'm content to use Nutri-Sweet to kill myself at a slightly slower rate. Anyway, I realized what a homo I was being with my diet coke and immediately took three shots to make up for it. Then I ripped three beer cans in half with my teeth and smashed my head into a brick wall while fucking three chicks at once that I'd just met.

That's a completely true story, except for everything that came after me drinking Diet Coke. However, I can in fact rip a beer can open with my teeth. The problem with doing so is threefold: first there's the obvious issues with damaging your teeth. The second is one you might not expect. When you stand in front of someone to do it, there's a pretty good chance you'll end up spraying your audience with the 90% backwash and 10% beer cocktail left in the can. Finally, there's the small matter of the inevitability of CUTTING YOUR FUCKING FACE WITH JAGGED METAL.

Where the fuck was I? Oh yeah, bathroom scales. Anyway, it's a proven fact that a real man has no use for a bathroom scale. However, I think I've found a use that will make you run the hell out to Kohl's to buy one right now. First, buy a nice digital bathroom scale that measures to the tenth of a pound, like this one:


Holy fucking shit, that thing looks like a landmine from the year 3146. I have a feeling the military invention that saves mankind from extinction at the hands of a robot Holocaust will look a hell of a lot like this.

Now that you have your bathroom scale / robot exploding superweapon, follow these simple steps to see why this new appliance will become completely fucking indisposable in any home where three or more guys live in close quarters.

1. Step on the scale
2. Read the number that is displayed
3. Sit on the toilet
4. Take a huge shit
5. I mean really, really huge
6. Step on the scale again
7. Subtract the second number from the first
8. Marvel in awe because you've just calculated the weight of your shit

From now on, there will be no more debating about who took the biggest shit. There will be no more discussions about how long it was, how many times is coiled around the bowl, or how consistency factors into the assessment. All questions will be put to rest by the cold, hard dildo of mathematics.

My girlfriend's parents gave her a digital bathroom scale a couple days ago as a birthday present, and I used it specifically for this purpose. Pre-shit I was 218.5 pounds, and post-shit I was 217.5. It's not particularly big, but I wasn't aiming for a record, I was just testing it out. Then she told me that our scale only goes by half-pounds, and it just rounds to the nearest one, which means the shit I took wasn't one pound, and was actually somewhere between 0.76 and 1.24 pounds. We're in the process of fixing up and moving into a new house, and while I haven't invested much money in the house yet because I'm poor as fuck, you had better believe I'll spare no expense in making sure we have only the most advanced future landmine that can accurately measure my shit to the nearest milligram money can buy.

Up: A RMP movie review

Up is the tenth movie from Pixar, the studio that continues to dominate the animated film market, and let me tell you that their winning streak continues with their latest. From the story to the writing to the visual artistry to the pitch-perfect voice acting, this is a movie that's firing on all cylinders. This is the end result of masters of their craft who still have a youthful eagerness to tell a great story and outdo themselves on every level. This is the most heartwarming fucking movie in years.

But what is it that makes this goddamn movie so fucking touching? First, let's start with the characters. The way that the relationship grows between Carl, the 78-year old man, and Russell, the pudgy boyscout is powerful and believable as fuck. I was so delighted as they grew to become friends and learn from each other that I just about shit myself. Their goddamn fucking interactions awoke my inner child, made me leap for joy, and proclaim, "Fucking this is the shit, cocksucker!" You won't see more goddamn fucking well-developed chemistry in a theater this motherfucking year.

The story is wonderful as well. Seeing Carl take matters into his own hands to fulfill his lifelong dream made me want to achieve the impossible too. Right after I saw this movie I tried to bend over and suck my own cock. Terminator: Salvation never made me want to suck my own cock. The Dark Knight made me finger my own asshole a little bit, but not until Up has a movie made me want to go down on myself. How the fuck can this fucking motherfucking movie be so fucking good?

And then there's the visual artistry. With every subsequent Pixar movie, I always think there's no room for improvement on a technical or artistic level, and I'm always proven wrong. Up proves yet again that nobody can cold-cock you in the face with a blackjack and rape the living shit out of your eyeballs like Pixar.

In the end, I strongly recommend the fucking shit out of Up. It made me feel like a kid again, and you can expect to love it just as much as your shiteating little bastard spawn cocksucking children will.

Miss Scarlett

For our next modernized update of Clue, I give you the new and improved version of Miss Scarlett, the venerable glamor girl of the Clue games of old.

Miss Scarlett - Now she's Denise Scarlett, a young hippie activist who now goes only by the new name of Furious Rose


As a relatively normal high school student in Topeka, Denise Scarlett was always a hungry overachiever whose main driving force was the one-upmanship of her peers. When she heard that a friend's report on the King Cobra was 5,000 words, she saw to it that her report on Sea Otters was 5,500 words. When the school's quiz bowl team made the state semifinals, she tried out for and won the Jeopardy Teen Tournament. When rumors surfaced that Tiffany DiMarco made out with the science teacher after school, Denise marched straight to the administrative office and engaged the assistant principal in hard animalistic fucking during sixth period.

Her desire to outdo her friends never left her. After graduating from college in 2008, she and her friends found a job market with no fucking jobs to speak of. Most of her friends found low-paying menial jobs to tide them over until the job market picks back up. After listening to friends swap stories about how poor they are, with their avalanche of student loans and $350 a week pay, Denise knew she had to one-up them all and out-poor them by destroying all of her possessions and joining a hippie commune. She assumed the new name Furious Rose and immediately swore off personal hygiene.

Despite being a part of a community that favors peace and love and emphasizes being happy with what you have, Furious Rose's overcompetitive spirit remained as strong as ever. After overhearing a regular LSD user brag about how hardcore he is, she out-hardcored her foe by mixing together a cocktail of Drano, PCP, four unidentifiable industrial solvents, some RC Cola, and heroin-spiked battery acid. When someone asked her if she was really going to drink it she replied, "Of course not! Drinking all of that stuff would be ridiculous. Only a pansy would drink it. I'm so hardcore I'm going to ingest it vaginally!"

The other hippies would fight one ridiculous cause after another, and overreact in an increasingly silly manner. First they protested completely safe genetically engineered crops that could feed billions. Then they dumped red paint on a woman wearing synthetic fur. Then they attended Live Earth because Ludacris flying in on a jet to perform Move Bitch, Get Out The Way somehow helped fight global warming.

Furious Rose knew she had no choice but to out-stupid them in order to top them all. She succeeded by shooting a sunflower seed entrepreneur three times in the head, and setting fire to his entire field. At the scene of the crime she left a series of video tapes in which she passionately condemns the act of selling sunflower seeds that could have grown up to be beautiful sunflowers as no better than abortion. Authorities quickly found and arrested her and she was sentenced to 40 years in prison. Activist groups everywhere are protesting for her release.

Clue: Discover the Secrets

This is the box art for the 2008 board game Clue: Discover the Secrets. Parker Brothers made it as a more modern and hip reinvention of Clue. Here is a list from Wikipedia of descriptions for the six new updated characters. Holy shit, these guys are rad.

• Miss Scarlett becomes Kasandra Scarlett, a famous actress often featured in tabloids.
• Mr. Green becomes Jacob Green, a go-to guy "with all the ins".
• Colonel Mustard becomes Jack Mustard, a former football player.
• Professor Plum becomes Victor Plum, a billionaire video game designer.
• Mrs Peacock becomes Eleanor Peacock, a manners freak from a political family.
• Mrs White becomes Diane White, an ex-child star seeking the spotlight.

This is how you make Clue cool for the young crowd? Hey kids, look! A football player and a video game designer! You kids like that stuff, right? As for Jacob Green, what the fuck is a go-to guy with all the ins? He has all the ins where? The record industry? Wall street? Pagan orgies? Why would they even bother giving us the backstories of these characters? All it really does is further point out how ridiculous the idea is that ex-child stars, prim and proper members of the Kennedy family, video game designers, and fucking football players would just spend a weekend at the mansion together.

Even more ridiculous is that they'd try to solve the mystery themselves like they're the goddamned Scooby Doo gang when somebody turns up murdered. I'd imagine the (ugh) Go-to guy and the video game developer would call the cops, the two actresses would be delighted to be in the tabloids, and the chick from the political family would have more than enough money sitting around to bribe everyone involved into not implicating her. And as for Jack Mustard, it's a well-known fact that not getting in trouble for being in the same room while a murder takes place is part of the official job description for NFL player.

The point is, this whole idea sucks. If you really want to make a truly modern game of Clue, you need to create avatars that fully delve into the sordid, sick psyche of 21st century America instead of just paying lip service to things that the kids on the OC seem to like. I'll show you how it's done.

Colonel Mustard: Now Ernest "Shitstorm" Mustard

Clue's venerable military man becomes an altogether new fighter for peace. Shitstorm began his life with humble beginnings as Ernie Mustard, working 70 hours a week at a McDonalds in Fort Thomas, Kentucky. A loyal supporter of America's military actions after 9/11, he suddenly felt a strong urge to join the army after accidentally seeing a 5-second snippet of cable news during a lazy Monday afternoon of channel surfing in search of a rerun of Charmed to jerk off to. In the news report, flamethrowers were used against American soldiers. He spent the next week's worth of grill cook shifts ebulliently shouting, "I'm leaving 'cause the ragheads are burnin' our people alive!" to any 15-year old coworkers unfortunate enough to be present.

Once in uniform he quickly clashed with his commanding officers over the use of what he referred to as "Penis-splitting axe chops" to obtain information from enemy prisoners. He was dishonorably discharged after renting the first four seasons of 24 on DVD, under suspicion that he was watching the show specifically to copy interrogation techniques from Jack Bauer. These suspicions were confirmed when he was overheard shouting, "DAMMIT!" every 18 seconds during a particularly brutal confrontation with an enemy combatant.

Mustard was glad to leave the army, as it was full of, in his words, "Cockscraping donut fucking turdsniffers who'd rather rub the terrorists' pussies than SAVE THE GODDAMN COUNTRY!" Before leaving he turned to his drill sergeant and shouted, "You're all a bunch of queefs! You know what a queef is? IT'S A PUSSY FART!!!" His former superior officer thanked him for the clarification.

Ernie immediately joined with Blackwater as a mercenary, looking to kick ass, and possibly even take a name or two in the process. His training far exceeded what he learned from the military, as he quickly upgraded the number of ways he could kill a human with a spork from three to sixteen. He earned the nickname Shitstorm from his comrades for a particularly effective and creative interrogation technique he implemented. You can probably guess what happened. I'll give you a clue: he didn't read poetry to them.

Shitstorm has many fun hobbies, including but not limited to country music, hackeysack, playing touch football with his friends, hitting the bars, poker, origami, movie trivia, and experiencing bouts of temporary insanity in which he flips out and slaughters Iraqi civilians. He also has a neat retro video game collection.


More to come...

The Angry Whopper

Holy shit, Burger King! Scale it back a little, wouldya?

Crapstick Doodle: Episode 12

You know the drill. I post a cartoon and I say ten things about it. Don't shit me and pretend you don't know.

1. With this video I tried taking these cartoons in a very different direction. I've enjoyed making all of the videos, but I don't think the characters and the overall situations were moving in a direction that I wanted them to. I wanted the characters to naturally grow and become more hilarious as more is revealed about them, but things had become stagnant and predictable, and trying to keep up some sort of narrative and establishing a universe made my comedy kind of boring, so I decided to make something insane and outside of the previous narrative so that I could be as ridiculous as I want, and to cleanse the palate.

2. In keeping with the theme of changing things up, I did away with the title screens this time, and there's a very good chance they'll be gone for good. They don't really add to the videos, other than possibly getting someone important to see my real name. The idea behind the titles was to give the series a sort of distinct opening credits sequence like a TV show, but I think it just makes them longer than they need to be, and it hurts a video's chances of going viral because it will only confuse someone who sees one for the first time.

3. I don't know why the fuck that picture of hot mostly naked Brendan Fraser exists, but it was amazing and I had to use it for this video. You can't tell from this video, but in the original picture he's dressed up as an ungodly sexy and seductive sea god beckoning to you, and on the side a caption reads, "Adonis Calling: The Sexiest Immortal Alive." The innate hilarity of the picture is only enhanced by the redundancy of the caption, because if makes a point of the immortal being alive. If they were fucking dead they wouldn't be an immortal.

4. I know that isn't really a picture of Don Cheadle. I searched for an equally hilarious picture of Don Cheadle but couldn't find anything. Dignified, talented black men ruin everything, apparently. I was in despair that I couldn't find a funny picture of him because if I couldn't it meant I would have had to re-record dialog, and then I had a brainstorm to include an iconic picture of a black man who obviously isn't Don Cheadle, because thinking they all look like is racist, and I find most instances of racism (except for the ones where people get killed) hilarious.

5. This is actually a video adaptation of a project I made for my beginning audio class in college.

6. I thought making a video that makes fun of Crash would be dated since the Oscar win was four years ago. Then, I saw an article which states that Crash, despite being a semi-old movie, is still the number one most requested movie on Netflix. I was simultaneously glad that my video is still somehow relevant, and repulsed that people are still beating down the doors to see this piece of shit.

7. Actually, I take that back. My disgust with that fucking horrible movie, my hatred for any stupid white asshole who calls this turdswish a powerful treatise on race, and my indignant shock that this bag of horse semen would be nominated for Best Picture, let alone win the fucking award, in a move that almost makes Rocky winning Best Picture over Taxi Driver look fucking sensible by comparison, completely and totally sinks even the tiniest bit of happiness I could take in knowing that my video is somewhat relevant.

8. FUCK CRASH AND FUCK PAUL HAGGIS IN HIS WHITE CANADIAN ASS!!! YOU KNOW WHO I TURN TO WHEN I WANT POWERFUL AND INSIGHTFUL STATEMENTS ON RACE RELATIONS IN DENSELY POPULATED URBAN AREAS OF AMERICA? FUCKING WHITE CANADIANS, THAT'S WHO!!!!

9. If you're a movie buff, you know that the music used in this video is the music that plays on the mall speakers in the original Dawn of the Dead. What you might not have noticed is the track that I use actually has the faint sound of zombies moaning on it. If you listen closely in my video there are a couple points where you can hear it. If you're a movie buff you also know that Crash is worse than AIDS.

10. I hope an asteroid hits Paul Haggis in the balls.

I love you, Rachael Ray

Is this bottle of cooking oil that has Rachel Ray's picture on it an officially licensed and effective product for making your kitchen all that it can be, or is it an all-in-one masturbation kit? Methinks the latter.