|The Fighting Avacados!
Last Tuesday I posted the first “Guide to Dumbass Excuses for Missing Work”. I knew that I had covered only a few of millions of reasons to take a day off from your job. There’s one excuse that’ll blow you away when I reveal it to you. It’s also a felony. Let me splain.
There’s this private school in Denver named Escuela de Guadalupe, which is Meskin for “School of Guacamole”. The Gucamole School employs a physical education teacher whose handle is Jennifer Gomes, which is Meskin for “Jennifer Gomes”. Two weeks ago today, on October 17, Senorita Gomes decided that she wanted to take a day off of work and she came up with an utterly flawless idea, and by flawless I mean fucking stoopid, that would not only give her the much-deserved day off she wanted, but everybody (students, teachers, administrators, janitors) at the Guacamole School would get to stay home too! I know you’re thinking, “how could a simple PE teacher accomplish something of such a grand scale?” You dumbass, what else could she do but call in a bomb threat! I.Am.Not.Making.This.Up. It is said that there is a fine line between genius and insanity, well the Guacamole School PE teacher has firmly entrenched herself on the dumbass side of that line.
Imagine the joy and smiling young faces, not to mention the thunderous chorus of “Gracias, Senorita Gomes!”, from the Little Fighting Avacados (Fighting Avacado is the school mascot) when they found out that she alone was responsible for this unscheduled school holiday. On the other hand , the estudiantes will be throwing rancid tamales at the pendeja when they find out they’ll have to make up this day later in the school year.
At any rate, Ms. Gomes is now charged with a felony for making a bomb threat at a Guacamole School, which in this barrio in Denver is a right of passage. I can say this because I have been to many barrios in the Greater Denver Area and I can assure you that not a single one of them will appear on the cover of Better Homes and Garden or on a Top 10 Best Places in America to Live lists, so I am not at all out of el line-o here. Paraphrasing The Bard, “a dumbass by any other color would be as fucking stoopid”.
Besides, Senorita Gomes did it for the children – her little Fighting Avacados.
|Kids Playing in October (!) Snow
Here it is the day before Halloween and we are still under a Winter Storm Warning until this afternoon. We got plenty of snow overnight but the ground was still fairly warm so the snow didn’t stick for several hours when things finally cooled down. I measured the amount of snow on the ground this morning using a highly scientific method called “My Index Finger”. This is an incredibly accurate mathematical method of measurement using units called “knuckles”. The results of this experiment revealed that we had about 4 inches on the ground and my guess is about 7 or 8 inches total. As I mentioned yesterday in this
vomit inducing drivel literary masterpiece, the historical average first snow date in Augusta, Maine is November 17. Why do I feel like this little storm is an omen of things to come? Oh, yeah. I live in New England and it snows like a two-peckered billy goat pissin’ on a flat rock every winter.
It’s Sunday, therefore it’s time to uncover some of those Dumbass Gems from the archives. Since we are picking up new readers at an
alarming amazing rate, chances are that many of you have not had to chance to read some of the older posts on Dumbass News. Then again, it could be that you just don’t give a shit about the older stuff. I shall, however, regale you with the type of articles that, thankfully, are not found anywhere else on the whole, entire internet. Besides, after reading these ‘Golden Oldies”, you’ll want to get as drunk and/or stoned as you can and use a generous portion of Brain Bleach to erase any memory of the horror you just experienced. But, hey, life is punctuated by events that shape us into what we are today – a sad bunch of pathetic dumbasses.
- Hot Rod Mobility Scooters Run Wild! – I wrote this story on Halloween Day, 2010 and it is still being sought out by dumbasses worldwide. These scooters could be the Next Big Thing in motorsports, crushing all other racing organizations in its wake. No more NASCAR. No more NHRA. No more slot cars!
- Dead People Get Gubmint Checks! – I have been fighting the United States Gubmint for my own damned money for about a year and a half down. They have been, up to this point in time, shall we say, non responsive. No, let’s don’t say non responsive, let’s say they have been fucking me over. While researchinhis article, I found a sure fire way to get my money from the Gubmint. All I have to do is DIE! Well, that’s certainly simple enough, but I’d really like to see my 9 and 4 year old daughters grow into women before that happens. But, a guy’s gotta do what a guy’s gotta do.
- San Francisco is Full of McDumbasses – It’s San Francissy. Need I say more?
Week (insert number here) of the 2011 NFL Season is about to begin, so do whatever it is that you do during football games. Like learning the “My Index Finger” method of measuring for first downs.
The World Serious is over and the St. Louis Cardinals are the World Champions for 2011. Congrats to the Cards and their fans. You guys had a magical season in 2011, especially from late August on. What your team accomplished is something extraordinary and you should cherish every single inning of it. St. Louis is a great baseball town and the fans are some of the most knowledgeable in the Majors. Keep in mind that Spring Training is just three and a half months away and every team in the National League will be gunning for the Champs in 2012. Go forth and celebrate your 11th World Serious title, because next year the Texas Rangers will be back and better than ever!
Other than being disappointed about the outcome of the Series, it was a great week here at Dumbass News. For those of you dumbasses that missed out on some of my brilliant writing and unmatched commentary, today is your chance to catch up with the latest in the World of Dumbassery. For example…
- Moonshine and Bigfoot – If the urge to go out into the wilderness and become the first to document the existence of Bigfoot, hooch is a necessary scientific research tool. If you are unable to find Bigfoot, you’ll certainly find Big Hangover.
- It’s Raining Money in Oklahoma – I goof on Okies on a regular basis, but I mean it in a loving way. The people of Oklahoma are some of the finest people you’ll ever meet – Salt of the Earth kinda folks. Hell, Oklahoma has given us Mickey Mantle, Troy Aikman, Garth Brooks and my favorite Redhead, Reba McEntire. Who could hate a place that has produced that group? Not me. BTW, the only reason Texas doesn’t drift off into the Gulf of Mexico is because Oklahoma sucks. 🙂
- Eating BBQ Flavored Madagascar Hissing Cockroaches! – As a former Broadcast Professional (Radio and TV), I can tell you first hand that people will do some seriously stoopid shit in order to win a prize. The bigger the prize, the stoopider the shit they will do. Don’t believe me? Read this post and you’ll want to
projectile vomit immediately tune in to your favorite radio station and see what kind of stoopid shit you yourself will do for a fabulous prize!
- The $25 Million Dollar Dumbass Mistake – Here are some clues: 1.) Ay-rab. 2) 7-11.3.) Dumbass and 4.) Lotto. Go see what I mean.
That’s the Dumbass News Week in Review for the last full week of October. I must now hunker down as we have a Winter Storm on the way that could dump as much as a foot of snow on Augusta (where I live) and the rest of South Central Maine. The average first day of measurable snowfall for us is November 17, so we are definitely ahead of schedule this year. It’s gonna be a long, cold, snowy winter in New England. Why did I ever leave Texas? Because I am a…
|But I wanted a Mega Millions Ticket!
I was just checking out some stats for this blog and found some pretty neat stuff. I won’t bore you with all the numbers, but I will tell you this: out of almost 400 posts since the first one way back in September of 2010. September 19 to be exact. I bring that up because I don’t recall writing a single dumbass story with a happy ending. Today, I shall do so. Not without reaming some poor dumbass out, but nevertheless the story will have a happy ending, even for the Dumbass of the Day.
Have you ever been in a convenience store to buy a soda, snack or whatever and think, “What the hell, I’ll buy a lottery ticket” just for shits and giggles. You patiently wait your turn, standing behind a homeless guy who smells like the north bound end of a south bound mule and stale Pabst Blue Ribbon, and you have made your choice of which lottery ticket you plan to buy. Then, out of nowhere the homeless dumb fuck pays for his Meister Brau 40 ouncer and discovers that he has a dollar’s worth of change and decides to buy your lottery ticket! what are you supposed to do besides stand in line and buy the next ticket in that bunch? fair enough. But the homeless asshole that bought your lottery ticket, scratches the gray crap from it and wins $500! Your $500! Almost. Wouldn’t you feel, instead, like following him to his homeless guy cardboard box and kcikin’ the living shit out of him? I would. But since that’s not the Christian Attitude, I’d just call him everything but a Child of God and let him go about his merry homeless guy way and celebrate his winnings with other homeless guys. PBR for everyone!
I have actually had this happen to me before but insert “my little brother” for “homeless guy” and the story is basically the same. The little fucker (my brother) bought the ticket I wanted and he ended up winning $500, while I wasted my dollar on a loser. Since I am thirty-three years older than my brother and he was about six years old at the time, I decided that kicking his ass was out of the question.That’s just how I roll. But I know I could’ve taken him out.
Fast forward to today. A little old lady in Georgia stopped by her neighborhood c-store to get her weekly Lotto ticket. However, the Einstein behind the counter (named Habib), a former AOL Customer service rep named Bob, rang up a Powerball ticket instead of the little old lady’s usual Mega Millions. Nobody noticed this fuck up ntil the lady checked her numbers and found out that she didn’t win Mega Millions. Dammit! Upon further review, the lady noticed the difference in the lotto ticket and compared her numbers to the Powerball numbers that night. 16? There it is. 41, 42/ Both there. 50, 59 and Powerball 5 were also there! The lady had just won twenty-five million dollars thanks to a foreign dumbass who speaks little English and reads even less evidently. Ain’t that some shit? I am very happy for the new millionaire lady and I am sure she’s as happy as a pig in shit that things worked out like they did.
Just think about it. the lady is rich, the store that sold her the winning ticket got a nice bonus for doing so and the Federal Gubmint now has another wealthy person to tax the hell out of.
|The Other, Other White Meat
I am a Son of the South. Texas to be precise. It pains me to have to report on Southern Dumbasses (except those in Florida. They’re prolly Yankee transplants anyway), but as an unbiased
smear merchant member of the New Media, I have an obligation to you, my fellow dumbasses, to report the dumbass story as it is, then call it like I see it. And by “call it like I see it’ I mean rip him/her/them a new asshole. Hey, it’s a tough job but somebody’s gotta do it.
Some dumbass radio station held a promotion in which the winning contestants would win a free season pass to Six Flags Over Georgia. Sounds like a pretty good deal until you find out what each player had to do in order to win the season pass. The contest hopefuls had to eat something to get their super duper prize. (A lone voice from the crowd calls out:) What did they have to eat Tobe? Thanks for that great question unsolicited member of the reading audience! They had to eat…hot dogs? Nope. Jalapeno peppers? Not this time. The delicacy that would put a season pass to Six Flags Over Georgia in our eager entrants’ hands? Madagascar hissing cockroaches! Aaaaaannnddd, each potential winner had two minutes to consume these little shit eaters. Madagascar hissing cockroaches are the size of Ford trucks. OK, I made that part up, but they are anywhere from 2 to 3 inches long and weigh just a hair less than an ounce. I hear that they taste like chicken. Actually the roaches in the contest are flavored. How about a BBQ Madagascar hissing cockroach? Mexican? La cucaracha, la cucaracha ya me voy a caminar or something like that. My Meskin song memories are a little fuzzy. Like the roaches.
I grew up in the Dallas-Fort Worth area of Texas and in the early 60s Six Flags Over Texas was welcomed to the Metroplex. As a child and a young man I went to Six Flags approximately 8 billion times. Therefore, I think it’s fair to say that if I never see another Six Flags or DisneyWhatever, I will be a happy dumbass. Back then it cost like two bucks for kids to get into the park. I can only imagine what admission is today for a child. $30? Anyone? Bueller? The point is fuck Six Flags. I have no use for them as is and I damn sure would not consume a 3 inch long hissing shit eater to win a season pass to the stinkin’ place. The mental deficient dumbasses who went for the passes and the radio station personnel who came up with and participated in this potential Projectile Puke Fest should be rounded up and summarily covered in honey and buried up to the neck in sand infested by gazillions of red ants. Maybe that’s a little harsh, but a swift kick in the nuts would suffice instead. Only a big, tough, drunk (on cheap beer, of course) male Redneck would even consider doing this. That’s where a swift kick in the nuts comes in. Oh, and a little snip snip in the gazebos so these frakkin’ descendants of the cast of Deliverance can not reproduce.
I gotta run. I hear Dueling Banjos in the background.
|He Made a Wrong Turn at Little Rock
Let’s say that you were taking a leisurely drive, listening to some Merle Haggard on major Interstate Highway like, for instance, I-40 near Oklahoma City. Why anyone would want to be near OKC baffles me, but on one recent day even OKC was a great place to be, despite the large number of Okies and dumbasses (but I repeat myself) that live there. I mean even the saddest Merle Haggard song can’t help you forget that you are in Okla-fucking-homa City, although “The Bottle Let Me Down” is a good one to start with. Jack Daniels is optional. As Joe Bob Briggs, World Famous Drive-In Movie Critic and Redneck Spiritual Guru used to say, “let’s get to the nitty”.
The Nitty: There were a bunch of Okies and poor lost souls who made a wrong turn in Little Rock driving down I-40 when all of the sudden there was money flying all over the place! Real US Legal Tender for cryin’ out loud. Now, even Okies and lost souls who made a wrong turn in Little Rock have an affinity for the good old American Greenback, so they did like any bunch of dumbasses would do if there was cheese (money) raining from the sky. They slammed on the car brakes right in the middle of a major Interstate Highway and jumped out to help Police and Firefighters gather the lost loot to return the cash to the rightful owner. And by helping first responders I mean stealing the money like a hooker snortin’ blow at Charlie Sheen’s house. What happened was that somehow a bag of money (police estimate about $30 Large) was ejected from a car traveling I-40 and a clusterfuck of Okies and lost souls who made a wrong turn in Little Rock proceeded to do their civic duty and become felons by scooping up as much of the errant money as possible. You really can’t blame the Okies and lost souls who made a wrong turn in Little Rock for doing what they did, because the economy sucks. And they are Okies. Not to rag on Okies, but they are kinda like the Lost Tribe of Israel. They ain’t quite Texans and they ain’t quite Kansans, kinda stranded in No Man”s Land. These people weren’t delivered to the Promised Land by Moses, they were dumped in Okla-fucking-homa by Jim Bob Jumpback. Enough said.
I almost fell over backwards, which since I quit drinking would be quite a feat, when I read a quote from one of the EMS Guys at the scene of the whole Episode of the Flying Cash. These words are a direct quote that the EMS Guy made in the UPI article where I found this story. Sit down if you are prone to fall over when you laugh like a sound track to a 60s sitcom. The money quote: “It just kills me to think that somebody lost this thing. What if somebody was taking this to a hospital to pay for their surgery?” EMS Guy said. I did not make that up. Not to cast judgement on my fellow man but this guy is a true Okie. He also needs a little surgery done as well. A little snip snip to his gazebo sack. Voila! No more little Okies from this Einstein. Unless of course he was, at one time, one of the lost souls who made a wrong turn in Little Rock and ended up in the void that is OKC.
|You’re shittin’ me?
My late Dad used to tell me that he wishes he was born rich instead of good lookin’. I face that same dilemma, but it’s a burden that I must carry until I am “The Late Toby”, which I hope is no time soon. The point is that if my Dad had been born rich instead of drop dead handsome (like me), then he would not have had to drive a truck for over 40 years and at least 6 million miles, most of that in Texas. I can tell you this: it was a rare occasion when Dad called in sick to work. Nowadays, people call in sick with some really, shall we say, “creative” excuses for not showing up to his/her job.
While doing my usual
looking for something to steal from another site in depth research, I came across a web site named The Hiring Site. The following list of excuses for missing work are quoted verbatim from that site. My commentary will follow each “excuse”.
This is gonna be good. These are actual excuses used by Liberals, I mean Americans for not showing up for work.
Dumbass Excuses for MIssing Work
Excuse: A cow broke into my house and I have to wait for the insurance man.
Head Dumbass: Three letters: B B Q. Enuff said.
Excuse: A chicken attacked my Mom.
Head Dumbass: Does Mom make B B Q chicken?
Excuse: My finger is stuck in a bowling ball.
Head Dumbass: Since you can’t B B Q a bowling ball and the only good fingers are steak or chicken fingers, let me get my chain saw. Adios finger. Problem solved. Fucking sissy.
Excuse: My hair transplant has gone bad.
Head Dumbass: It ain’t gone half as bad as the size 12 I am gonna put up your ass will “go bad”.
Excuse: My girlfriend threw a Sit-n-Spin through my window.
Head Dumbass: was she on the Sit-n-Spin at the time of this incident? If she was, she’s a keeper. If you know what I mean and I think you do.
Excuse: I was on a boat in Lake Erie and I ran out of gas and the Coast Guard towed me to the Canadian side.
Head Dumbass: Grab a case of “Moosehead”, an OZ of Canada’s Finest and walk across the surface of Lake Erie back to the USA side. I have done this before. With good weed, anything is possible. Eh?
Excuse: My foot is caught in the garbage disposal.
Head Dumbass: Are you related to the chick with the Sit-n-Spin? If so, I hope you are a girl. I’m just sayin’.
Can you believe that shit? I know that many Americans are lazy dumbasses with the ambition of a spit wad, but, really, can’t you stoopid fucks do any better than that? Whatever happened to real excuses for missing work? stuff like somebody stole my weed and I can’t get motivated to work without it. Or…did someone bring a keg to work today? If so, I’m in. If not, I have to go buy one so I’ll be spending the day at home doing “scientific research” on what causes hangovers. There are a million of ’em, but the lame ass excuses above could have come from a guy on a street corner selling “Excuses to Miss Work Today” cards for 10 bucks a pop. The sad thing is that so many Americans would stand in line to get a good excuse to skip work, even if it cost $10. Meanwhile, the guy on the corner selling the excuses is working his ass off and getting rich at the hands of a bunch of lazy Occupy Wall Street pussies who smell like some NFL lineman’s ass after a double overtime preseason game in Dallas in August. It ain’t purty folks. It ain’t purty.