Dear sweet blog-baby,

You have done NOTHING wrong. It’s not you, it’s us. We’ve been too busy to fill you with goodness and cynicism. I promise to feed you very soon.

Love, Us


Here’s the thing…

Some big changes are coming pretty soon. Pretty big and important changes. Such big changes that they warrant a totally independent blog from AGAF though your purveyors of useless garbage (Paperzombie & Elektro Girl) are the individuals this big change is smacking across the face. “But, why don’t you just update about that here?” You ask. “Shut your fucking whore mouth.” We respond. “It’s for your own good.” AGAF differs greatly in everything from the style of writing and topics to the basic information that will be updated on our new blog. But don’t fret, you may still come back to dear ‘ol AGAF for new articles and such. I even added an RSS feed FROM said new blog to the top left of THIS blog. Check out that fuckin’ shit fuck. Ladies and gentlemen…I bring you…

The Epic Saga of Paperzombie & Elektrogirl

My Mother

(My cell phone rings. It’s my mother.)

Me: Hello?
Pam: I was thinking…what child of mine would enjoy this the most? Of course it was you…
Me: Uh oh…what?
Pam: I’m sitting behind this big ol’  black SUV and they’re watching TV in the way back seat.
Me: …okay?
Pam: And it’s PORN, Douglas…they’re watching PORN!
Me: Are you shitting me?
Pam: No! I am watching the porn that these people are watching in traffic!
Me: My mother is watching porn.
Pam: Yeah.
Me: Are they…doing anything?
Pam: Nah, they’re just watching. I have to call your sister, bye.

Presumed Assumptions & Biased Acquisitions On a God

Listen, I know this is Cthulhu - but really? Who says God has to always look like Socrates?

Dear Hideous Space Monster,

It has come to my attention that if you do, indeed, exist then you have decided to take a shit in my life.  No, that isn’t a typo.  You have taken a massive dump inside of my life and buried it so deep that I can’t seem to dig it out myself.  You suck, Hideous Space Monster.  You suck hard.

The week before Halloween I was returning from a friend’s house and was held up at gunpoint by two men and forced to give them my backpack (with several textbooks, notebooks, movies, and a hoodie), iPod, cell phone, wallet, and house/bike keys.  Was this part of your master plan, Stan?  If you do work in mysterious ways, as your minions have suggested, what was so mysterious about having my life raped?  You don’t sound very mysterious.  You sound like an asshole.  You sound like a lazy asshole.  Being traumatized for the next few months ensues.

The next week I purchased a brand new bike lock from Target because the last needed to be clipped do to the keys being stolen.  From Target I went directly to the Dollar Tree to pick up a few things for school and, what do you know?  My bike gets stolen.  $30 bike lock…bike…gone…  Hilarious.  You’re hilarious, Hideous Space Monster.  There is absolutely no mystery or plan you’ve attached my life to.  It’s just your refusal to extend your hairy tentacles from the netherworld to flick these assholes into Hell where they belong.  You’re a lazy mother-fucker.

And on another note, if you are everywhere…then why are you nowhere?  Did you just watch me from across the street while two guys jumped, beat, and robbed me?  What kind of douche just watches and pretends they didn’t see anything?  When the police asked if there were any witnesses I had to say no because I know your douchey ass wouldn’t show up for the court date.  Probably too busy with that “mysterious” shit, eh?  Cocksucker.

What Living With Girls Has Taught Me

1. Periods.  I know all about them, now.  Too much?  Who knows.  I feel educated.  I know all about how “heavy” they can be or “light” or how terrifying they are when they don’t happen at all.  I guess that last one’s a pretty big one.  I didn’t know.  See, I’d be totally relieved if I found myself NOT bleeding out my junk.

2. Cleanliness.  There is no truth behind when people say “Boys are disgusting.” or “Girls are disgusting.”   People are either disgusting, or they are not.  It is completely individual and indiscriminate to one’s gender.  It turns out if someone is a pig – they are a pig.  It has nothing to do with their toilet parts.

3. Patience.  I’ve learned that one bad thing will ruin the entire day, weekend, or entire week.  Being late for work and getting lightly reprimanded for five minutes may be the reason she has locked herself in her room with Moose Tracks.  Losing her last hair-tie may, in fact, be the reason she calls her mother bawling because you, “Just won’t understand!”   But don’t ask though.  Oh God, no.  Never ask.  Which brings me to my next point.

4. When to shut up.  Turns out the humorous-jab lobe in the brain mostly consists of testosterone, which is why that lobe is so much smaller in girls.  It’s science.  Because of this diminished lobe, being told (in jest) that her hair looks skanky may just upset her enough for her to “Never come back here, again!”  Another way I’ve been educated by this fact is by learning no matter how bad YOUR day was, her’s will have always, always, always been worse.  No why?  See #1.

5. She knows more about your other girlfriends than you do.  Don’t question her.  If your girlfriend you’ve had since elementary school is a “Freakin’ bitch.”, she may be onto something.

6. Empathy.  What’s empathy, you ask?  A song?  Male-enhancment product, perhaps?  No.  Empathy is the ability to understand, through imagination, another’s pain.  If her shirt is ill-fitting or the hair just didn’t come out right – it triggers horrid distance, dark memories of days when she was fat, ugly, and nobody liked her.  You think being beat up on the playground is tough?  These little bitches wrote ENTIRE notebooks on other girls they hated, complete with diagrams of “Fat Alice” or “Ugly Jane”.  I’d take any kick to the gullet over a diagram of me with drool lines and a comment thread.

To be continued…

Fucking Delicious

Remember these fuckin’ things…

I don’t even fucking know if they sell this shit anymore, but back when I was a kid these sons-a-bitches were the tits around the pool.  I’m not talking about that fucking shit they’re peddling now: this “seedless” watermelon Laffy Taffy bullshit.  It’s candy seeds or bust.  Well just this week I fuckin’ found these shits on fuckin’ going for buttfucking $38 for a box of 12.  Suck my dick.

And this got me fuckin’ thinking.  Remember this asshole?

If this buttfucker wasn’t around, my memories of the Laffy Taffy from my childhood would be a hot bucket of pig shit.  They’re still selling “sparkle” or “glitter” laffing taffingz around the US, so I thought this would suffice.  And while it does fill the empty void of my life that is nostalgic Laffy Taffy – it doesn’t fucking do the job!  I need my candy seeds…

So by this point, I’m pissed.  I have just fucking walked my ass to 7-11 and fucking bought a fuckin’ sparkly asshole, walked back home, ate it, and was completely unsatisfied.  Now I know that you’re a bastard, and you’re probably thinking “Shut the fuck up, fatass!  Eat the fucking taffy that is available to you and shut your fucking fat mouth!”  Well fuck you for thinking that, you buttfucker.  Just because you’re okay with sub par taffy, doesn’t mean I have to live in your pseudo-happy fantasy life.  Eat a dick.

I stomp back to 7-11 to find something – SOMETHING – that will bring some semblance of satisfaction to my life.  Now some of you pieces of shit believe in fate.  I do not…usually….but today…

Yeah, thats "True Lies" behind me on the tube. What the fuck of it, slut? That movies is the BALLS. Arnold at his finest.

Sweet fucking dick.  Are you shitting me?  $3?  For two of my favorite things in ONE creation?  Ice cream AND nostalgic candies from good-times-passed?  As I dropped a load in my pants standing in 7-11, a 30-year-old woman stands next to me and looks at me with confusion?  “Are you okay?”  All I had to do it point.  She stood next to me and looked.  “Oh…I didn’t…I didn’t know…”  I opened the freezer door and took 2 out – one for me, and one for business lady.  I sat outside 7-11.  Shit you fucking not.  I sat on the curb and opened up my watermelon ice cream with bastard candy seeds.  I waved goodbye to my new good friend (with both hands) and wept…

Life is sweet.

FOOD FOR THOUGHT: What other candies do you miss?

You know where I NEVER wanna get hit on?

The Taco Bell in Wriglyville wearing a dirty Miami Ink shirt and Adidas sweats.

Today – that dream was shattered thanks to the winner in front of me ordering “Three ‘Number 3’s” sporting a Mickey Mouse tattoo behind the ear.

Beautiful work...