Do you know when an animal or a baby is so cute that it actually maxes out the cuteness scale? And the next step off the scale is just pure unadulterated violence. You find yourself so overwhelmed by its sheer adorableness that you can no longer express it by cuddling, petting and talking about how cute it is. You see a little puppy and sometimes it’s literally just too much to emotionally handle. And you have the compulsion to rip it apart and chuck it with all your might against a wall, breaking every bone in it’s tiny body, because it’s so fucking adorable there is no possible way to express that….No?Just me?

 

So here’s the thing. I’ve literally found the cutest puppy on this planet.  And I know what you’re saying “Wow, that’s a big claim, I’m gonna need evidence.” So here we go.

 

My close friend just bought a puppy named Curtis.  This dog is so fucking cute, I wanna bite off it’s head and drink it’s blood through a straw..THAT cute.  So he’s taken all these pictures of Curtis just living life, playin, running through fields, and has been sending them to me.  I also took pictures on my phone a couple weeks ago, and it’s the background of my computer as well, so needless to say I love this dog. So this weekend I’m at an after hours party and it’s around 3 am.  I have my phone and start asking if anyone wants to see the cutest  dog imaginable. One of the guys I was with had his girlfriend there and the conversation went pretty much as follows.

 

Me: Who wants to see a picture of a puppy so adorable you might have to murder it?

Girlfriend: I don’t know, Brandon found this puppy that he’s been sending me pics of, that might be cuter.

Brandon: It’s true, I’ll bet this dog is cuter than yours. I can’t take it. I’ve sent pictures to everyone I know, and I check the dog’s Facebook incessantly.  He’s smiling in one of the pictures! SMILING. I’m unhealthily obsessed. I found him on this website.

Me: Ok, well I’ll bet this puppy is cuter. Take a look and be the judge.

(I hand the girlfriend my phone and she starts flipping through pics)

Girl: Oh my God. Wow, Brandon, this looks exactly like the puppy you’re obsessed with.

(Brandon now grabs my phone, and looks through the pics)

Brandon: Holy fucking shit, this is the dog. THIS IS THE PUPPY.  CURTIS!  I found him on cuteoverload.com.  I can’t believe it!

Me: Wait, what?

Brandon: This is the cutest puppy on earth, I want him. He’s my computer background. This is the same God damn dog.

 

 

So yes, it turns out people told my friend Sean to put pictures of his puppy on cuteoverload.com and since then he’s developed quite a fan base from it. He’s even going to be in a promo on the Game Show network. By sheer coincidence we were all obsessed with the same little guy.  Ok, now get ready to projectile vomit everywhere from your body not knowing how to physically react from such precious wonderment.

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you’ve just signed up for Classmates.com, I’m gonna say odds are you aren’t someone I ever wanna reconnect with.

 

 

Has there ever been a time in all of history, when someone starts or ends a sentence with “No offense” and actually means it? Those two words are in actuality to drill in the fact that “Just in case you weren’t sure if this was an offensive statement, just to be absolutely clear, you should definitely take this personally.” It’s like an added sarcastic bonus thrown in to give you a metaphoric slap across the face.

 

“No offense, but I’m not about to take relationship advice from you, I mean your romantic history is like Dawson’s Creek on the fucking Titanic.”

 

“ Wow, your wife looks kinda like Charles Manson and Roseanne Barr had a baby, no offense.”

 

“I’d rather you not make me a mix CD, cause your taste in music is like super shitty. No offense.”

 

It’s also fun to mix things up and just add “no offense” to really generic statements to make people wrack their brain as to how the fuck it has anything to do with them.

 

“Did you hear about that 400 pound man in prison who lost like 90 pounds and is now suing the prison for malnutrition…No offense.”

 

Wait, what?

 

 

The car I just bought has all manual locks and windows. Somehow I didn’t notice this until I took it home. It took a lot of getting used to. Manual door locks makes it really hard to be casually prejudice. There’s no smooth way to lock my doors. I always end up leaning across to the passenger side, as my seatbelt pulls in the most obvious way possible and it looks like I’m about to take a fucking nap across my car. How am I supposed to protect myself from what looks like some sketchy Mexicano gang member who happens to be on the market for a stellar 2003 Toyota Echo? I mean really. Manual windows are also a fucking Amish nightmare. They make the art of car flirting a whole lot douchier. It seems like these guys always pull up to my passenger side, so again, here I go reaching across my car horizontally to roll down my window at a red light. By the time it’s halfway down I’ve managed to light the city of Fresno with the wind power I generated, and the light’s fuckin green…great.