How often would you say that you get overly frustrated? More than once a week? Perhaps even daily? More than a few times a day? If you answered “yes” to any of these questions, follow these steps immediately – 1. Take a deep breath 2. Remove your pants. 3. Spread your buttcheeks. 4. Gently insert a chill pill into your anus. You don’t even have to thank me; I know that was magical. Now that everything is nice and copasetic, lets explore the areas of our lives that could benefit from these suppositories.
Depending on where you call “home,” it’s quite possible that dealing with traffic is a part of your life. You’re not alone. There are 315 million people (big number!) in the United States, and a good portion take residence in urban areas. Common sense dictates that living near a major city might involve battling a congested roadway or two. Detroit, Los Angeles, San Francisco, and New York serve as prime examples. Hailing from just outside Atlanta, I’ve seen a fair share of highways clogged up like TerRio’s arteries. But how on fucking Earth can traffic be so annoying for you when you know good and well it is an obvious factor in travel? That’s like a homophobic grandfather ignoring his gay nephew after he came out at Thanksgiving dinner. It has been made clear what is going on, and ignoring it isn’t going to make it any better. Maybe cut the Fifa game off before rush hour so you don’t find yourself thinking of ways to violently bludgeon yourself to death sitting bumper to bumper.
Imagine that you’re standing in a long pre-security screening line at the airport. A frustrated sigh comes from the businessman in the suit behind you. A few minutes pass with little movement. You hear him answer a phonecall on his Douche-Tooth headset. “Yeah Joe, I’m going through security right now. Yeah, total CLUSTAfuck. These people don’t know how to travel.” Alright, pal. You mad? We can all tell that the continuous application of Rogaine to your head has caused irreversible brain damage, but we too have somewhere to be. What do you think we are doing here, just getting fondled by the TSA for the hell of it? Everyone at the airport is affected by the constraint of time when flying. As much as we would all like it to be, airport security is not a smooth and streamlined system. It is not without problems. I cannot stand when the TSA takes my lotion before I get on my flight. You might be late for your connecting flight, but do you know how difficult it is to masturbate in an airplane bathroom at 30,000 feet without my Jergens? It’s my own personal Hell.
People posting on social media too much
Can I address the anger over people who apparently “tweet too much”? I don’t give a shit if your Social Media Broadcast Microblogging Journalism 3000 class told you that there is an “appropriate” amount of tweets to share per day. It must be nice to look at that poster with all the gold stars next to your name when you walk out of class. Way to stay on top of what goes on in the classroom! However, physically stressing over the amount of times that someone else is tweeting is a little over the top. What are they supposed to fucking do? Twitter is geared toward the idea of “share what you’re doing right now” not “share when it’s convenient for everyone else.” Getting all hot and bothered about how many times a day someone is sharing 140 characters to a social media website is a critical waste of energy. Perhaps you could better spend that time doing something more productive, say, minding your own damn business? I think that might prove best for everyone’s sanity.
I have never voted; therefore I have zero credibility talking about the current state of affairs in the United States. I know, I know. I’m a bad American, horrible citizen, and a shithead (actually I think that’s just what my dad calls me). Current affairs aside, is it too “out there” of me to think that come election time everybody who does vote pretty much knows who they are going to vote for? Your call to attention via Facebook to all of those who are “uneducated” on the “issues” makes me want to hurl myself into a woodchipper. Leave me the fuck alone, guys. Let me be ignorant in peace. I have my own ideas about how the country should be run, but I don’t get vehemently upset when someone doesn’t agree with my views. Personally, I think when someone in Congress wants to introduce a bill, every member should be placed in the street and fight to the death. Weapons optional, but not discouraged. The man or woman left standing gets their bill approved on the spot. We would also broadcast this live on Worldstar. I know what you’re thinking. Yes, I HAVE written to the President about this, but unfortunately Barry O and the White House have not gotten back to me yet.
Cracking a phone screen under the influence
“#RIP iPhone screen,” a white girl tweets dejectedly from her Macbook Pro. Last night was “literally not real” and her phone screen got into a fight with some concrete outside the bar and lost. But you’re being so unreasonable, it was an accident Mom! Life is just so unfair. Wait, what? Someone accidentally forced all of that $10 vodka down your throat? You accidentally didn’t want to use your PROTECTIVE iPhone case because it was too bulky and didn’t fit in your purse? You cannot be upset over something that was 150% your fault. “Oh but somebody bumped into me.” Right, because hundreds of people in crowded college town bars are supposed to be able to drunkenly respect personal space. How silly of me. From now on, I’ll just make my way through bar crowds like Jadeveon Clowney blowing past offensive linemen untouched. Shouldn’t be too difficult. I’ve got a fuckin’ MEAN swim move coming off the line.
I’m surprised that “football” is not listed as a cause of hypertension in the United States. Whether it is Pop Warner, high school, college, professional; football is a way of life for a lot of people. I love football just as much as the next person, but there is a line that should be drawn for emotional investment in a sports team. I have witnessed grown men shed real tears over the outcome of a football game. Let me ask you one question (and this is applicable to all sports). When you watch your team lose on gameday, WHAT THE FUCK CAN YOU DO ABOUT IT? You are not a player on the team. You are not the coach. Nothing. You can do nothing. Your glory days as left benchwarmer for the two and a half years you played in high school are over. Spare me the tears, Drake. Do us a favor. Drive down to a CVS, get a diary, and write down all of your precious feelings in it. Get them all out so all of us men can go back to happily drinking until we can’t see our feet. The outcome of a bunch of sweaty dudes pushing each other around on a field for millions of people to watch is not worth ruining everyone else’s time, brah.
I will be the first one to tell you that I have not always been a fan of studying. I made a 16 on an exam once. Yes, 1-6. 16. I have so many Cs on my transcript that it looks like a Crip fucking doodled on it. Many a night I’ve looked at my Calculus book and considered dropping out of college to sell drugs to children. However, here I am still in school, not dealing drugs to kids. As soon as I lost the “this sucks camel dicks” attitude about studying, it didn’t seem worth the frustration anymore. Hey, sometimes it takes losing a $50,000 academic scholarship and getting screamed at by your parents for the ninth (nine was when I stopped counting at least) time to realize that college academia is a means to an end. Sure, there are plenty of bullshit classes that you have to take. Nobody really enjoys a 300 person attendance-required freshman seminar class about creative thinking. However, when you get to the point that you’re constantly reviewing material within your major classes, knowing that you’re going to (presumably) be applying the subject matter to your life’s work reduces that pain a little bit.
The next time you find yourself upset, ask yourself how big of a deal it REALLY is. If you can’t somehow calm yourself down from an 11 to a 3, maybe you’d like to invest in my chill pill suppositories business idea. I think I’ve already got a slogan – “Have no fear, just put it in your rear.”
Jake Alexander is a malt liquor aficionado who spends too much time on the Internet. You can send him hateful messages on Twitter – @callmeshitto
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