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Archive for the ‘Random Thoughts’ Category

Chipotle Cravings or Bathroom Breaks

A gentle breeze rustles me awake. I know not how long it has been since I made my way into the archives, I only know that my stomach grumbles in protest of my unintentional fast. As the wind rustles the cobwebs from the doorway, I catch the scent of Mexican food and my body begins moving involuntarily. Almost as if drawn to my destination by it’s own free will, I set out to find the source of the magnificent aroma and stumble into..

If this means nothing to you... get out.

It’s kind of like a craving for Cheez-Its or Sprite. Once you get it in your mind that you need a crispity, crunchy cheesy cracker snack or a thirst-quenching lemon-lime fizzy drink, simply nothing else will do. People may offer you a box of Cheese Nips or a Sierra Mist Free to subside your cravings, but those people should be banished to the far corners of Agrabah for all time for their treachery.

Seriously, don’t offer me CHEESE NIPS. Or tell me they taste the same. They don’t.

However, a craving for Chipotle is a unique thing. You know exactly what you are getting yourself into, you may not even be hungry, and yet it’s almost like there is an evil llama forcing you to make way to Chipotle.

EXTRA MEAT! Baphomet commands it!

You have mentally and physically prepared yourself and accepted the consequences that come with a burrito. There is an entire emotional rollercoaster that comes with a journey into the Mexican grilled paradise. This blog is a chronicling of such.

Parking Lot: There it is, shining in the darkness. The only part left of your pre-Chipotle journey is to cross the parking lot and breach the glass doors where, held inside, awaits the mixin’s, fixin’s, and desire that fuels a Chipotle. Take a step into the building, close your eyes & take a deep breath, soak in the sounds and smells and open your eyes to see…

Inner Doorway/Line:

I gotta wait how long...?

A line. Yeah, if you manage to get to Chipotle and end up getting your Mexican delicacy without playing any sort of waiting game, go get a lottery ticket because that just plain doesn’t happen. Part of the Chipotle game is seeing how long of a line it takes to make you say, “Screw it, I’m getting Chinese.” The line moves fast, but when you walk into the store only to be standing half in, half out due to overcrowding, you may have to re-think things. In a blur of toppings and rice, you suddenly find yourself at the…

Cashpoint:


“My inner turmoil in video form.”

The following cannot be said lightly. It doesn’t matter if they have it wrapped, ready to go, drink set up, chips on the house with a side of guac: the time between finishing your burrito, and paying/receiving your burrito WILL feel like an eternity. All you can do is barely mumble out a thank you or a half-assed apology for acting like a crack head as you are overpowered with anticipation for your soon to occur consumption. The only thing that matters is you getting your lips around that tortilla and ripping it to shreds. But first, some Sprite in a water cup because nobody cares; this is between you and the burrito now. As you sit down at the…

Table: A sigh of relief escapes your quivering lips as your monstrosity sits before you. It’s like staring out into Middle Earth before you take your first steps to Mordor; you’re afraid to start, because you know you won’t be able to stop. Worse than a can of Pringles, the “can’t stop” side effect of a Chipotle is a powerful force to be treated with caution. Many have fallen in it’s wake of destruction. We mourn their passing by spilling a drop of tobasco in their honor. Sometimes you can feel sick, or full to the point of explosion…

Immediately after devouration:

I didn't even know they came in that size, Merry.

A combination of shame and pride washes over you as your body shudders in response to your massive attack of south-of-the-border amazingness. You will find yourself shocked with your ability to perform even the simplest of functions with three pounds of warm Mexican goodness lumped into your stomach. As your innards relocate to find room for remains of the rice based onslaught, your consciousness creeps away and your find yourself slipping into a…

Chicoma:

Big booty bitches.

Chicomas strike at any time. Be prepared with a travel rug.

Here it is. This is, arguably the best part of Chipotle minus actually enjoying the food. The Chicoma is: “the state of uncontrollable relaxation one experiences immediately following consumption of a Chipotle product. It is unavoidable.” Challenged only by the slumber that follows a hearty Thanksgiving dinner, a Chicoma is a force of nature that spares no man or woman. It moves rapidly, quickly ticking off the moments until you finally succumb to the power of the burrito, waking up confused two hours later with the television blaring repeats of Home Improvement with Tim Allen. That is not something to be proud or ashamed of, that is simply how things work out from time to time. Tool Time, that is. Perhaps we shall discuss the Chicoma in greater detail in future Fwaah posts as it deserves much investigation. Once you wake from your ricey slumber, you have approximately negative five minutes to get to the…

Bathroom:

The face of Chipotle regret.

Unavoidable, shameful, remorse is the only emotion allowed post-Chipotle. As you curse the food gods for raining down hellfire of poo, you wonder if Cal’s up to grabbing a quick burrito bowl… you know he is.

P.S.

Also, here’s the coolest thing you’ll see today. Hands down. If you see something else that is cooler, post in the comments because I just don’t believe ya buddy. Wind!

http://hint.fm/wind/

fwaah.

-a

Things that Taste Better with Time.

As I come to terms with the fact that the Grinsell Archives have claimed me as my own, I find myself becoming more and more comfortable with my surroundings. As time marches on, I find that the bitter taste of hopelessness and the discomfort of my surrounds transforms into a Stockholm Syndrome of contentment in the dark passageways.. time heals all wounds.

Here at WTFwaah, we like to discuss things. This may come as a shock to you, but it’s true. We are meant to confuse and enlighten, as well as force our opinions upon you because we have the power. Here’s a list of things I thought of today that are simply better after time has it’s way with them.

Jimmy Fallon: When Jimmy Fallon first took over for Conan O’Brien, I was unsure how he would hold up when compared to the king of late night weird. I personally thought that Fallon only had a small handful of sketches on Saturday Night Live that he really contributed something to beyond giggling off-screen and managing to break character every other line. Since his departure from the show however, his popularity has risen significantly, and he is remembered fondly for his performances during some weak years of SNL.

But after the initial awkward period, Jimmy Fallon has really started to shine on the late night talk show host circuit. This isn’t a very large circuit, but a circuit nonetheless. Late night entertainment has turned into a battle of the Jimmy’s as Fallon and Kimmel face off night after night. Fallon has secured the collegiate crowd, with his goofy likability, young age, and relatability to the tech savvy young adults. Plus he has the Roots as a house band. Who does that?! The Roots are beyond incredible, and I am constantly blown away by their versatility on the show.

Seriously, stuff like this is gold.

Old School Hip-Hop: Easy segue from the Roots. You know what every Outkast fan’s favorite thing to say is? “Ohmygosh! You love Outkast?! I love Outkast!!” Which works out extremely well for me, since I love Outkast. But, this is not an exclusive perk to Outkast, as whenever people talk about hip-hop these days, without fail someone will say “I like how rap used to be…” and discuss the lyrical splendor that is Illmatic, The Low End Theory, and It Takes a Nation of Millions to Hold Us Back.

You're telling me you like Notorious BIG over Pitbull!!?!?

Wine: I don’t have much to say about this section, I just had to include it for all our highbrow, snobby, wine loving readers who would expect such an inclusion. I would hate to get those condescending looks from the upper class. Forgetting about “aged wine” is like seating a child in front of Sid Viscious and Johnny Rotten on a plane. Oh wait…

That little girl will never be the same. Today is the day she becomes a man.

Krispy Kreme donuts: Krispy Kreme donuts are a heavenly fat blob of sugary fried dough goodness. That was actually their slogan before they came up with “Krispy Kremes: Diabeetus. We aren’t kidding.” Seriously though, a baker’s dozen of these bad boys will cause your body to halt insulin production faster than Gigli passed through the theatres.

We are not above Gigli jokes here.

However, Krispy Kreme donuts fall to the mercy of the “cold pizza” rule: Although the meal is undeniably delicious when hot n’ fresh, the next day leftovers are just as good if not better than the original. If you manage to rip into a box of Krispy Kremez and restrain yourself from scarfing down the entire order, you are in for a treat. As your vision fades from you and you slip into a diabetic coma, relish the fact that you’ll have a bunch of cooled sugary snacks waiting for you when you rise. However,  be careful, Krispy Kremes follow a strict timeline, which is as follows:

One Day Old: stellar. Just real pristine baked goods.

Day Two: Still alright, perhaps a tad stale or crunchy if not handled with care.

The Third Day: Put those away, now it’s getting weird.

The Fourth Rising of the Sun: Seriously? Gross. All the donuts now turn into Gremlins. You had it coming, you shlemiel.

Nostalgia: This kinda goes along with old school hip-hop. Were the 90’s as amazing and truly incredible as we all remember them? WAIT! Let the following photo answer that for you.

The answer is no, they were not.

But as time goes by, suddenly all those terrible things like actually memorizing phone numbers, and making plans with someone a month in advanced because you can’t just send them a virtual message the day of saying, “Ayo, you freeeeeeeee,” fall by the wayside, and the nostalgia begins. Captain Planet, Orange Soda, The Dancing Lobsters, a child’s inability to build a monkey statue, and a girl who’s “just too cool for seventh grade” become highlights of a time when (if you’re in my age range) you were at mercy of a minivan. Even the writers here at WTFwaah suffer from nostalgiaism, with good reason. Nostalgia is awesome. We love to feel connected the people of our generation, as it gives a real sense of camaraderie and union as we all share unexpected “I was there too!” moments with the ones around us. Before we could just “Share” with a click of a button, we call upon the youthful memories of the little and big things in life that brought us moments of joy. How sappy.

This is here to break up the sap.

Crappy cars: Everyone’s first car should be a total piece of junk. F’real. That way you are that much more appreciative when something better comes along and you can upgrade to a totally fresh set of wheels brah. But, the longer that you have that crappy junker, the more you start to love it for its defects. Sure you have to enter in from the passenger side, and the key only turns in the ignition when you have the brakes on, the wipers to medium, and the hazard lights on, but the car has character. Rust spots become marks of affection, earned through time spent together, memories made on the side of a country road, or waiting for the light to turn green. A crappy car almost becomes an extension of your being, as you alter your driving habits to accommodate the car’s personality. When you pound on the steering wheel cursing the heavens that “this stupid piece of junk has crossed you for the last time,” it feels like you’re sharing that moment with an actual person. An automobile person.

Automobile people are real cool chaps.

Broken bones: I’m not a mind reader, so I can’t say if this train of thought is shared by everyone, but when I broke my toe throwing my friend Spencer into a pool a couple years back, the first that went through my head was, “Well goodness me, that is one unpleasant feeling in my mosey-wosey-toesies.” This was almost instantly followed by, “This will probably be a funny story someday,” and it is. Like most things, time heals wounds. Today, it may seem like a horrific accident that will forever scar the landscape of your psyche. Two years later, sitting by the poolside with the cast just a stiff shell of signatures and lame inside jokes, you’ll chuckle about that one time you were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and suffered the consequences. And it’ll be hilarious.

Road trips: The beginning of a road trip is a magical thing. You have a full tank of gas, more candy and trail mix than you know what to do with, and an optimism for adventure that could fuel a trip to the moon and back.

Orange-Mocha Frappuccino!!!!

Feels something like this.

Now the remaining 1-∞ hours of the road trip can either be one of two things. Either, a time of connection, personal growth through self-reflection and introspection, and a memorable journey celebrating our youth and environmental variety, or an uncontrollable descent into madness, depravity, and self-loathing. This really all depends on whom you choose to be the fellow members of your caravan. Choose wisely, as once you are on the road, it’s very hard to get rid of someone in a legal, ethical way without having to bring a shovel. Problem is, nobody brought a shovel, but everyone brought half a pound of peachy-o’s. Gummy treats make for awful tools.

Showers: Although I fall into the crowd of people who don’t mess around when it comes to their showers, (bang-boom-zip, I’m outta there in four minutes tops.), I can appreciate a good soak. Coming home after work to a torrent of hot water is about as heavenly as it gets. When I am down with my shower, the amount of steam that pours forth from the bathroom rivals a foggy London morning. Plus making shapes on the mirror is like the best thing ever.

Fog is just the world's loading screen.

Is there anything else that goes over better when it takes a while? Something significant I missed? Hit me up below and lemme know! Also, here is the greatest thing you’ll see today.

fwaah.

-a

This is the pits.

I wandered into the Grinsell Archives. There were no security guards. Just a sign that read “Beware of Dog.” The only thing close to a dog was a man  just chilling playing video games. He looked like a mixture of Karl Marx and Shaquille O’ Neal. I struggled to find a light, but only found cobwebs, an old oil can labeled “Crocodile Rock”, thousands of lost souls, and Rick from Pawn Stars. I fell down a pit and into the abysmal archives. I’m still here. I have been sitting on a skateboard and whistling Andy Griffith’s theme song for two weeks. My fate rests with the hopes that someone will find their way through this negative space. But this whole ordeal brought me to a thought:

Pits:
Let’s just get this ball rolling.

Ball Pits
Ball Pits are basically the revitalization of religion to kids. Ya know what? If Ball Pits weren’t cluttered in the smog of terrible stories, I’d totally belly flop one of these suckers. Who doesn’t dream of buying a huge ball pit and swim through them like Scrooge McDuck does to his piles of money. (Pretty sure coins coupled with gravity would create a pretty dense product. Think about it. That guy should have straight up broken his face. If not, at least strangled from the weight. You just don’t think about these things when you’re a kid.) Who hasn’t heard a story that sounds like this, “Oh yeah man, I heard that this baby lost his diaper in that ball pit.” Classic baby move. There’s just a pile of feces, throw up, and sweat in these things. That’s why I want to open a Ball Pits 4 Adults store. Like Dave & Busters did to Chuck E, but we’re going to add the ball pit. Or… a Ball Pits 4 Cal store. Y’all can visit. Just no pooping, bro. Weak.

If you look hard enough, you can see a party of cockroaches having a barbecue.

Video Game Pits
Whether it’s Crash Bandicoot or Mario or Lara Croft, these things are cool. Undoubtedly, the most over used obstacle in gaming history, these pits have killed thousands of characters over the years. These murderous mayhems are still straight up the most frustrating ordeals in your daily video game life. …Besides that one schnozzle on CoD. How did he know I was there? Amiright? …More discussion worth bringing up: Where do all the dead Marios go? Or just how far does Crash fall before being spawned back to safety next to the TNT boxes?

Arm Pits
They smell bad, sweat uncontrollably, can turn white shirts into green shirts. They suck. They get all hairy. Arm Pits can go burn in a butt. No analyzing needed here. You all have these moldy guac tubs.

Spike Pits
When I say Spike Pit you might think of Indiana Jones or Mortal Kombat. Maybe you don’t… My mind works weird. But these are classic examples of Spike Pits. You don’t wanna fall in one of these. Because… It’s kill you. Or worse… Stab you. Stabbing and not dying sounds worse to me then just death. Have you guys seen Hot Fuzz? Do you get my reference? Don’t watch this, but here it is:

Peach Pits
They are messy. Get stuck all up in your face. You gotta eat around them to enjoy your tasty healthy snack. Just another example of a bad pit. Peach pits are basically a rock in your snack. Or, an even better metaphor: A kidney stone in your urine. See also, cherry pit.

Got this when I google'd "peach pit." Seems relevant.

Mosh Pit
A dancing group of boys and brave girls where the goal is to physically punish the person next to you for enjoying the same band as you. What is the point of this? Who cares. They’re fun. Jumping on a trampoline doesn’t make a whole lot of sense, but that’s fun too.

Mosh Pits are stupid to look at.  I recommend you jump in one at a metal show near you.

PIT
Pittsburgh. Big Ben Roethlisberger and smelly exhaust. Another terrible pit. If you’re from Pittsburgh, we’re sorry. Not for saying it’s a terrible city, but more so as condolences for your loss. Also, strong Amish population live in PA. And there’s an Ikea there.

Pit Bull
If it starts with the word ‘pit’, it still counts right? The dog and Cuban rapper think they are relevant. But, really, Pitbull talks through an entire Dr. Pepper commercial and I’m pretty sure he doesn’t say a single word. For some reason, I feel like you should know this.

Pit Stop
Why are you still reading this?

Brad Pitt
The last pit(t). Also, the most beautiful. He’s in Benjamin Button. Have you guys seen this movie? I think John Maynard Keynes, Milton Friedman, Adam Smith, and I could play seven rounds of Monopoly before that movie ends. Also, Fight Club is awesome. I would also like to point out that Brad Pitt was in Troy, which made some money, but I have never seen it. And Brad Pitt dumped one of my favorite celebrities, Gwyneth Paltrow, for one of my least favorite, Angelina Jolie. I find her incredibly ugly? Am I the only one? I think my two least favorite actresses are Michelle Rodriguez and Angelina Jolie. No one cares about this. I was just bringing up that Brad Pitt is totally a pit. And therefore gets mentioned.

This isn't even gay.

I swear. I can write blog posts on the dumbest things. See: above
Did I miss some pits? Lemme know in the comments. I swear, the community here at the Fwaah Comments is straight up the coolest community on the webs. Wait… No… It’s actually pretty pathetic.

Fwaah, Cal

Island Rules or LOST Without Your Uncle

As we delve deeper and deeper into the Grinsell Archives, we find that nothing is as it seems. Rights are Ringos, Lefts are Louies, and people brush their teeth while drinking orange juice. It’s a mad mad mad mad world. Still really dark too, the interior decorator had no idea what to do with all this negative space. Boo.

Do you remember that one uncle you didn’t know you had? No. Of course you don’t you silly goose. That doesn’t make any sense at all. However! You definitely remembered him when he kicked the bucket and left you a bunch of stuff you didn’t even know you needed, like exotic animalsexotic money, and sunscreen. Initially, this may overwhelm you, as you have no place to put such exotic things, but your uncle wouldn’t leave you hanging!

The dude left you an island. Yeah. An island.

Let that sink in... You have an island.

Now that you have your own little sandy outpost in the tropics, you are the coolest dude in school. If you are a girl, you are still the coolest dude in school. It’s just simply how the island thing works. Deal with it, or don’t own an island. You’re going to go with the island, and we all know it. With great tropical retreat comes great tropical responsibility. You’re going to need island rules if you want to avoid a Castaway-Lord of the Flies situation every other Thursday.

Which brings me to another classic WTFwaah Guide to Life and Living: My Rules for My Own Tropical Island.

1. If and When a death occurs, we will not immediately mourn, but celebrate the life that our fallen friend experienced. Fireworks, speed boats, Froot Loops, and tiki parties will commence as soon as the news is spread.

This is how we begin the grieving process.

Following the death celebration, we will have a life memorial, where we all reminisce on the good times we had together, and the deceased is shot out of a cannon.

2. There will be weekly water wars set up something like this.

Props to r/trees for masterminding this... thing.

Each person will get a pair of the American Gladiator Q-Tip batons with which to do battle. The winning team gets a dinner prepared by the losing team, and the losing team gets a house party hosted by the winning team. We’re all winners. Isn’t that nice?

3. The main source of transportation around the island will be the Pokémon Snap car.

If this means nothing to you... I am sorry.

Logically, the Island will be full of Pokémon, roaming free enjoying the sunshine with their human companions. Only Safari balls please, as we want to preserve the beauty of Pokémon/Human camaraderie! Seeing as how Pokémon Snap was the most out-of-the-blue amazing Pokémon game, it seems only right that we honor its legacy in our sunshine wonderland.

4. 

It's exactly what you think it is.

Girl Scout cookies are a year round dessert option. When I say they are a dessert option, I mean the cookies are to be devoured with reckless abandon anytime your heart desires half a box of Tag-a-longs or Thin Mints. Okay, a whole box. Who the heck eats only half a box? The eating guidelines for Girl Scout cookies stick to the rule of threes: Eat a box now, save a box to be eaten tomorrow night, and freeze a box to eat during the Girl Scout famine.

Sidenote: Girl Scouts are the perfect example of American capitalism and a supply/demand relationship. The mark-up on those things has to be at least 8000%.

5. Education is free and freeform. Simply because student loans suck, 400 person lectures suck, and in this country we all share the pain.

My son... you have been misled.

Subjects to be taught get voted upon by the island’s population, then the most respectable teaching guy in that field of study gets flown out for a crash course.

Sidenote!

Pictured is our resident professor, with resident sense of humor. He's tenured or something... whatever.

6. Happy catacombs.  That’s right, fun indoors and underground is possible if the sun is not your best friend. Catacombs get a bad rap cuz they are usually all haunted by some thousand year old curse, but I’m talking about an entire underground paradise where every room is full of whatever strikes your fancy. Ball pit bath-tubskoala hugging rooms, and places for the best of the best family vacations. Basically, if you can dream it, we can do it. The catacombs are where your dreams are no longer dreams, but realities. Minus the whole “creepy labyrinth of tombs” thing.

Silly kitty! CatAcombs, Not cat combs!

7. Billy Mays. He never died, he just went home. That beard cannot be defeated. This version of Billy Mays is done taking calls and selling detergent. He organizes an all-island paintball game on the first Wednesday of every month. Those tornado sirens you hear are actually Billy’s hair follicles shouting their war cry. The teams are: Billy Mays in Blue, everyone else who’s going to lose in Red. But he’s a good sport about it.

He gets really into it. The dude is seriously intense.

So there it is! There could easily be another twelve points, but perhaps those will be saved for another day. And since you were all wondering, the name of my island is: Moderation, Because everything is better in moderation.

Happiness will abound in Moderation, Sexy people roam free in Moderation, and No tears will be shed in Moderation, unless you are someone who was given an all-powerful, all-knowing island that warps time and space, knowing your every thought and carefully watches over you, and you still manage to screw it up, causing anger and riots from the most loyal television fanbase ever.

Yeah Jack, we're all sad. But it's okay, you can come play on my island.

Fwaah.

-a

Super Bowl Post!

Super Bowl Sunday! It’s finally here, and while not everyone is happy with the participants (myself included). The Super Bowl is here and ready to rumble. Super Bowl Sunday is comparable to Christmas for some and a hemorrhage to others.  This years matchup is between the Flew Flengland Flatriots and the Flew Flork Fliants. The Beautiful Bom Trady and the awkward and clumsy Peli Panning. The Baboon Butt faced Tom Coughlin 

Eerily Similar, eh? And the even keeled Bill Beeeeelichek

This was his face in every picture I saw

That was his face in every picture online.

But enough about this years Super Bowl.  Today I want to talk about my favorite moments of the Super Bowls that have occurred in my lifetime.

1. 

This was one of the more spectacular moments in FCC history. JT flippin’ some boobage into America’s respective eyelids. While the Patriots beat the Panthers in an extremely good and close 32-29 game, the halftime show was the talk of the world. Thank heavens Twitter wasn’t a thing yet.

2.  Peyton Manning finally winning the Big One, and beating the Bears in the process. It took him 8 years of dominating everyone, but he finally did it. Hopefully young buck Eli doesn’t steal too much of his thunder after today’s game.

3. Kurt Warner to Larry Fitzgerald hooking up for a lead taking 64 yard touchdown catch against the vaunted Steelers. Unfortunately the Cardinals shaky D couldn’t hold on for the win but the play was fantastic none the less.

4. Kevin Dyson being tackled at the one yard line, allowing the Rams to hold on to victory. A fan of neither the Titans or the Rams, this play was crazy to watch even as an outsider to the teams. I can imagine the Titans feeling something like this guy:

and Rams fans feeling like this: 

5. The Green Bay Packers beating the yucky gross Pittsburg Steelers 31-25. There isn’t a team in the NFL that I hate more than the Steelers. As a lifetime Vikings and 49er’s fan seeing the Packers do it was a bittersweet feeling, but sweet is the key word in that whole ordeal.

You’re welcome. Another quite hilarious point in this game was the half time show, in which the Black Eyed Peas performed, of whom my fellow Fwaaher Cal covered exclusively in his post here.

The Fwaah’s superbowl pick? Everyone has one, here is ours: Doritoes will have the best commercial, and Tim Tebow wins the MVP. For reals though: Patriots: 34 – 24

-Fwaah, Cole

Cal Mader. President.

As the Presidential elections come closer, and without a clear Republican leader. I got to thinking… I could be President. I think most people would like to think they have what it takes to be president, and likely they really don’t have the skills and political savvy that is needed to be the President of the United States. However, what I have that no one else has is that I have an amazing set of changes. Like, sure, some of them seem absurd. I realize that it probably isn’t in the best interest of the country for most of these rules to be implemented. But, when you see my final rule change… I think you’d all agree that the vile rules are worth it for the possibility of what is to come.

Rules that I will implement as the President of the U.S.

1. All first born sons must be named Cupid or Buttbutt.

…We’re off to a great start here…

2. We will bomb every country that begins with a specific letter. The letter will be determined by a Bingo Lottery System lead by the Cleveland Cavaliers owner.

Sure thing Mr. President, I'd be happy to let you assert your power over Earth.

3. I believe that evolution needs to be taught to all children. However, they will be taught that we, as a human race, evolved from Benjamin Franklin who gave birth to Moses and Charles Darwin.

Darwin! My bro.

I furrow my brow at you, Moses.

4. Our official language: Meow.

5. Chairs are banned. Including wheelchairs. They now be Wheel-stools.

6. Our military will be lead by whoever Ashton Kutcher is dating.

This guy picks our military command? Makes sense to me. He's totally hawt, broseph.

7. Orangutans are the only legal pet.

I smell like poop. Do not bring me in your house.

8. Cars must be painted to look like me.

8. Cars must be turned into scrap metal. For everyone to have Airplanes.

8. I get Airplanes.

9. Everybody will have to learn how to pogo stick, ride unicycles, or fit into small cars for the first ever Nationalized Clown Force. Similar to the Army.

10. If I win, there will be a free Dippin Dots day.

This picture is basically porn.

I guarantee victory.

That’s how good Dippin Dots are. All these things would probably not be in the best interest of anybody but Adam’s parents. They hate chairs. But come on… Dippin Dots! They’re glorious. You would vote for me for free Dots. Don’t even lie to my face about it.

Who's gonna be voted President in 2012? This guy.

Sopping

You know the feeling. The sinking, wet, cold, awful feeling of wet socks. Nobody hates wet socks more than I do. Not even you, guy who says he hates them more than me.  The number of gross-to-hear, cringe inducing words affiliated with describing wet socks is endless.

This poor sap just bounced into a pair of sopping wet socks.

Wet socks cause many an issue to the commoner: discomfort, cold feet, and general unhappiness. Wet socks are the unexpected pickles on my burgers of clothing catastrophes.

This adorable baby and his feelings on warm dry socks.

This topic needs no further coverage.

-Fwaah C