Onlyfans Ruined This Kid’s Life

Onlyfans is awesome. Whatever. No other way to put it. Can you imagine going back in time and explaining this concept to a teenage boy in the 70s. Yeah in 50 years there’s going to be a machine in your pocket where you can see naked pictures of celebrities whenever you want. Sometimes, random hot girls in your town will be on it too. If you’re lucky, some random not-so-hot girls from your high school class will be on it too, which is equally entertaining. Sounds harmless, it’s not. 

My little suburban town was lucky enough to get one of those random not so hot girls on onlyfans. Which might sound harsh, but she wasn’t a very nice person so calling her “not so hot” is the least I can do. I don’t find find her attractive at all.  

Moving on. I’m not sure which pioneer found her account but it spread through the town like wild fire. Good for her, make that money girl. It started out simple enough. Sending your buddy her nudes in the middle of the night just for fun. Having a laugh at feet pics that looked like cross crossed talons. Good ol’ fashioned nudie fun. Then it happened. 

She fucked some kid from our town up the ass with a monster strap-on. 

I could not believe it. I still can’t. Look, I’m a sex positive guy, you like what you like. Have at it.That being said, you have to have the foresight not to put what you’re into on the internet for a measly $6 a month. You can’t do that and not expect your life to change. 

The video itself is... uneasy. Everyone in the video looks uncomfortable and so is everyone who’s watched it. The strap-on used is an absolute WRENCH. She is not shy one bit, just blows his back right out. I have to imagine this isn’t his first time taking one because there’s no way you agree to do your first ever time on video. With that in mind, that thing still did not go in easy. At all. 

The video is mostly pumping with the reciever sucking through gritted teeth. But at 2:32, the madame in the production pulls out a paddle. At first it’s hesitant and jerky slaps to the back. Then something comes over her and WHACK right in the fucking head as hard as she can. You can see in her face that she knows she went overboard the second she did it. It’s the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. I might’ve watched it 20 times. It ends as abruptly and awkwardly as it started.

This kid can’t go anywhere without someone suggesting that just maybe he should take everything in the room and shove it up his ass. Can’t hide either. A few weeks ago he went to Facebook to voice his displeasure with the Eagles’ performance against the Seahawks. The first comment, “Yeah the Eagles really took it up the ass this week”. And you know what? Couldn’t have happened to a better person. 

This was the kid in high school who would remind the teacher that she didn’t check the homework knowing damn well that 75% of the class didn’t do it. He was the grown up version of Randall from Recess. As we got older he became a volunteer fireman which in his eyes made him the most morally superior person in the room. He was the kind of volunteer who would wear his radio to the bar even when he was off duty. He’d yell at you for smoking a cigarette right outside the bar. Then he’d run his mouth to people who had 100 pounds on him. That’s how he was known. Now he’s just known as the kid who took a hog up the ass. 

Normally I like to end my blogs on a happy note. A glimmer of hope for my subject. This is a tough one. I wish him the best, I really do. I’d never make fun of him for it. Not to his face I mean, I’m not a monster. However I can’t say the same for my townsfolk. Only thing I got is hopefully his royalty checks make it worth it. But I doubt it. 

Why Do Old People Hate Aliens?

Old people do dumb and annoying things all the time without realizing it. Like answering a groupchat to be polite even though the sender clearly put “Do not respond to this text”. But the dumbest and most frustrating is their disdain for anything alien. My test subject for this opinion is my mom. So, sorry old people but you are all now subject to her opinion. She speaks for all of you. 

When the news dropped that a well respected Israeli space security guard confirmed the existence of aliens and a Galactic Federation it wasn’t a surprise for many of us. The smart ones anyway. When the NY Post picked up the story it was all the ammo us chosen few needed to shove it directly in the face of non-believers. Namely, old people. Which is exactly what I did to my mom. 

When I first told her she laughed and said “Come on you’re old enough now to know aliens don’t exist.” Ok, so maybe I ran with the Santa Claus thing for longer than most, but this is different Mom. So I sat her down and showed her the map of our galaxy, The Milky Way. I explained to her that in our galaxy there is roughly 400 billion planets. Then I showed her that picture from the Hubble Telescope and told her that each one of those little dots are whole galaxies that are just as big, if not bigger than our galaxy. I told her this picture goes on forever and ever and the probability that of all the infinite planets in existence that us having the only intelligent life is pretty much 0. 

My mother, that beautiful soul, stared at me for ten seconds in silence looking like she was going to throw up. After a quick twitch and a smile she said “Did you see the pictures on Facebook of your cousin’s new baby?” 

Not today, you’re going to confront this. 

I held strong in the pocket, bobbing and weaving my way through her feinting questions. I showed her my saved Tik Toks of obvious alien activity, UFOs, etc. Until she finally snapped. “WHY DO YOU WANT THIS SO BAD?!”

Um how the fuck could you not? Mom explained that  she’s afraid that aliens could murder the shit out of everyone including her children and grandbabies, fair I guess. Her other gripe is that it doesn’t bode well on her Catholic faith. 

Ok ok, I can work with this. As far as your faith, Genesis 1:1, literally the first line of the Bible “In the beginning God created the heavens and the earth.” Says right there earth wasn’t the only pit stop. As far as the whole our brains being harvested thing goes, the way I see it there’s only two options. Either aliens will invade and kill everyone OR they’re so advanced past the idea of warfare that they just want to invite us into their avant-garde way of thinking and living. Clearly they’d be more advanced than us and maybe they can even fix grandpa’s Alzheimer’s. 

“Oh that’s a nice thought.” 

She wasn’t ready for that. The idea that we’d be better off with aliens. That’s my blueprint so far for convincing old people that we should be welcoming the aliens with open arms. Feel free to use it with your own tweaks and omissions as you see fit for your own old person. Because we need to get everyone on board, figuratively and literally. 

The Porkroll/Taylor Ham Argument Is For Losers

If you ever have been a third party to two New Jerseyans meeting outside of their state and one of them asks the other “do you call it pork roll or Taylor ham?”, you have my blessing to punch them both in the face. Little history for you, pork roll is a popular breakfast meat served on sandwiches almost exclusively in New Jersey. Like if you get a bacon, egg, and cheese in NJ you’re just wasting you’re time. It’s that delicious. Doesn’t matter that my college roommate called it “glorified bologna” when I brought it down to Alabama. He also deserved to be punched in the face. 

It doesn’t take a detective figure out where the correct name confusion comes from. Look at the picture above, it says both. I personally call it pork roll. But that’s not me taking a stance here, I just don’t want to write the rest of this blog writing out “pork roll/Taylor Ham” every time I reference it. 

But we’ve been led to believe you MUST take a stance on your classification preference. And tirelessly defend it. It’s awful, it’s cringey, and I’ve done it myself.

It’s a crutch really. People just don’t know how to talk to people anymore. So we’ve agreed upon these geographical inside jokes with people we’ve never met before. It’s done in hopes that we won’t stand there awkwardly sipping our drinks in deafening silence. A generation who can’t hold a conversation but squirm at the thought of silence. 

When I lived in Alabama, southerners loved introducing me to other people from New Jersey. It amazed them for some reason and they always thought I would wind up knowing the other NJ native somehow. There was a shocking amount of people from Jersey at Alabama, so this happened a lot. After exchanging the initial pleasantries and questions, someone (them or me) would go “Pork roll or Taylor Ham?”. Almost immediately the other person would die a little inside like “we’re really going to do this huh” and then answer with either pork roll or Taylor ham. 

If you call it the same thing you high five and it’s over. Figure out an exit strategy. But if you both call it something different? Jesus. You have to stand there and pretend to care about what another grown adult calls a piece of meat. Then you go back and forth with “no you say it wrong.....no you say it wrong...no YOU say it wrong....” and so on and so forth until you have to go home.

I want to repeatedly bang my head against the wall just thinking about how many times I’ve been in this situation. 

Well no more. I’m done with the charade. I don’t care what you call it. If it’s a delicious meat on a bagel with egg and cheese I’m going to eat it and shut the fuck up. I don’t think anybody actually wants to die on this hill. But if I’m wrong and you’re truly passionate this, kindly please jump in the Raritan Bay with concrete in your shoes. 

We’re better than this as a state, so I’m putting my foot down. I’ll lead the charge to stop pretending to care what other people call breakfast meat. Learn to talk about something else or be content saying nothing. 

Waging War On Italian Food

People find this blasphemous coming out of a native New Jerseyan’s mouth but Italian food is trash. It’s kids menu food. The Italians go-to, spaghetti and meatballs, is littered on every children’s menu in the nation because restaurants know that their undeveloped pallets will actually enjoy it. I’m Irish, sue me. 

Every Italian meal is the same exact thing repurposed to make you think you’re ordering something new. It’s whatever’s in the kitchen, drowned in marinara sauce. 70% of their meals have marinara sauce, the most overrated sauce going. Pasta, chicken parm, calamari, mozzarella sticks, mussels, eggplant, whatever ya got. Smother it in the same thing so everything tastes somewhat similar. Balotelli nailed it, the Italians have a serious diversity problem. 

But what about pasta? Fuck pasta. Anything that I could actually cook in college can’t be that good. Oh you don’t like spaghetti? Try rigatoni, penne, linguine, fusilli, or the bow tie one. It’s the same fucking thing! Changing the shape isn’t going to magically trick me into suddenly enjoying it. 

Right now you might be thinking, well maybe you just don’t like marinara. And you’d be right. So let’s go to the number two ranked Italian sauce and have a conversation about it that I’ll just make up:

“Why don’t you order vodka sauce then?”

“It’s just more crushed up tomatoes isn’t it.”

“Yeah pretty much. We just put a little booze in it.” 

I bet you think you have me with pizza. Don’t even. Everyone knows in their heart of hearts that pizza isn’t Italian food. Even if it once was, it’s been perverted with oil and toppings and extra cheese to fit our disgusting American pallets to the point of no return. Pizza is just as much Italian food as the corned beef egg rolls I had last night were Chinese food. Not to mention, trigger warning, plain pizza is the worst kind of pizza. Specialty slices are all the rage. Buffalo chicken, chicken bacon ranch, fucking taco slices! Does that sound Italian to you?
The best part of an Italian meal is the bread. Let that sink in. How basic does your food need to be that your biggest selling point is the base of literally every culture’s cuisine? Fucking Moses had access to the best part of your food in the middle of the desert. 
By this point there’s probably a lot of sweaty Italian-Americans mispronouncing Italian curses at me. Probably want to attack my hertiage’s food, because like I said, I’m Irish. Go ahead, Irish food isn’t anything to write home about. Yeah I go in on potatoes, but who doesn’t? 
My favorite food, Chinese. I love Chinese food so much that my mom tells random strangers that she ate a ton of Chinese food when she was pregnant with me. She has boundary issues. There’s so many options, so many different flavors on a Chinese menu that I just get lost in it. Chinese is so good that mean/ignorant people started rumors that there’s a good chance you’re eating cat and people were still like “yeah I don’t give a shit, I’ll roll the dice”. Italian could never. 

Moving Out Your Childhood Home Is Weird

I’m selling my childhood home. And by “I’m”, I literally mean me. Despite my 0 realtor experience. My mom used to sell houses before Zillow and quite possibly before the internet. So what started as her being our realtor has quickly turned into me managing the Zillow account. Taking calls, putting up ads in the Staten Island newspaper, the whole nine. It’s bullshit. 

As stressful as it is, selling it definitely isn’t the worst part. It’s the end of my childhood, the end of an era, and the end of a marriage (looking at you mom and dad). We moved there in ‘96 when I was three so it’s pretty much my first and only house.

I gutted my entire room. Closest, under the bed, everything. Nothings left. Found my favorite beanie baby, my blackberry, and valentines card from my fourth grade crush. Lotta memories in that room. Lotta memories in that house. Playing Halo 2 split screen for hours with the boys, listening to Da Drought 3 in the garage with no heat, my first kiss, tackle football in the backyard, my first fingering, two of my dogs buried in the backyard. The list goes on. I’m handling it alright though I think, can’t say the same for the rest of the family. 

My dad makes inappropriate jokes to deflect his emotions, a family pastime. The other day he pointed to a spot in his room and told my little brother that’s where he was conceived. Gross, I’ve walked over that spot no less than a million times. He’s kind of a bozo so he’s not involved in the selling process which is frustrating him. To make him feel included I had him post our Zillow page to his Facebook since he has 4,968 friends. That’s a real stat. If you gave me a whole week I don’t think I could name 4,968 people who have ever lived. He got 201 comments on the post and I shit you not he replied to every single one. 

My mom is just sad. Which is really depressing for a son to see, but she sure does make it easier. She moved out a year ago and coming back to the house makes her cry. The first 10 times we comforted her until she calmed down. After the next 30 it was like alright what do you keep coming back here for. You didn’t need to drive over just to check if the hose still worked, a simple call would’ve sufficed. Plus she loves berating my brother and I for “treating it like a frat house when we’re trying to sell”. 

As far as my siblings go, my brother has a black soul and my sister started her own family in a new house years ago. 

After telling me that they wouldn’t give me any money from the sale I found out my parents were entertaining an offer 50k under the asking price. I begged them to reconsider and worked a little marketing management. Got three more showings booked today. My parents thanked me and said I’d have a hundred bucks coming my way. I told them they just showed their fucking cards and they better split that 50k they were ready to piss away between their children if I get asking price for this thing. Light at the end of the tunnel. 

He’s Here And He’s Perfect!

Our king has made his way back into the headlines. The Rockefeller Christmas tree has bullied the Ravens and Steelers into playing at 3:30 on Wednesday. This magnificent display of nature plays second fiddle to no one. Especially not to two grossly overrated football teams.

I cannot stress how much I love this fucking tree. Raggedy looking fuck. There was a time when these pictures were released that I would search “Rockefeller Tree” into Twitter just to bask in everybody’s whining. And now it’s back. Oh you should hear my buddies down south bitching about how they’re going to miss the game cause they’ll be working. Playoff implications viewed through a gamecast all because some stick figure drawn tree is getting lights put on it up in New York. The Tree has now pissed off football people, PETA cause they kidnapped an owl, tree people I imagine, tourists, and Christmas people on account of its appearance. Who’s left to enjoy it? Me, that’s who. 

It’s just a hilarious tree. Rumor has it that the tree picked was purposely hideous to deter people from flocking to Rockefeller Center during the pandemic. I can only hope that’s true. If it is, whoever made that call deserves a raise. All these wieners crying on Twitter about how their Christmas tradition is ruined. How this Christmas tree was supposed to be their symbol of hope to get past 2020, and this is what they got. Get over yourself. Some people couldn’t go to their family members funeral this year, I think you’ll be ok not taking a picture with a tree. It’s a tree, there’s millions of them. Go outside with your iPhone. 

The shame of it is, this is the first year that I’d actually want to take a picture with the tree. It’d be my Christmas card forever. You can take a picture every year with the same looking tree. This is the one year you can get a picture with a fugly lookin tree. It’a like a baseball card with a spelling mistake, super rare. But alas, even imagining my mother screeching at me for taking the train into the city is enough to make my brain bleed. 

I don’t know, maybe I just relate to the tree. I’m also a depressing looking giant designed to keep people away from me, despite my shocking amount of Christmas spirit. Long Live The Tree.

UPDATE: Apparently they miraculously cured the tree’s appearance and now I have nothing. 

Confession: I Don't Know When Sports' Jerseys Are Ugly

Double confession I don't know how to pluralize "jersey". Jersies just looked wrong. Jerzies? Who cares, the Sixers dropped these new uniforms and it's been all over Twitter. Are they ugly? Are they tough? Who's to say. I have no idea, I never have. It's not just NBA either. Whether it's NFL, MLB, collegiate, etc. I can't seem to get a guage on how Twitter will recieve new jerseys. I can't even tell you how many times I've seen a uniform release and think "thats pretty fresh", only to have one of my snarky friends post it in our group chat with a puke emoji. Then everyone piles on it and I sneak off into the corner keeping my original assesment to myself. For whatever reason my opinion is always on the wrong side of public perception. I'm ashamed to admit that I now wait for the Twitter results before praising or bashing a new uniform. Maybe I can't get a read on sports fashion but I CAN read a room and regurgitate accordingly. I've seen jerseys I liked get dragged on Twitter only to say to a buddy at a bar "You see how gross the new {team name} jerseys are? Lol." My taste in clothing isn't all that bad. In fact, a lot of pounds ago I used to fancy myself a fashionable guy. Which is why I have such a fucking issue every time a team reveals a new uniform. All of a sudden every guy with a Twitter handle has a degree from FIT. Using terms like "color clash" and shit. Well I'm done being afraid of my stances on jerseys. No more will dudes who buy the 4 for $20 t-shirts from Champs with white Air Forces dictate my opinions. The Sixers jerseys are just fine.