GREATEST COMMERCIAL EVER!!!!

A Three part post:

Part I.
Is it OK for an atheist to scream, "OH MY GOD," while having sex? This is an issue which has bothered me for years. If you don't believe in God, why are you calling out his name during fornication? I mean, couldn't you find something else to scream like, "OH YES! OH YES!" Or how about it, "FUCKIN' A! HARDER!" But no, these atheists must always blaspheme the Lord by screaming, "OH MY GOD!" over and over. Darn you atheists, leave my god out of your love making. I know when I'm fucking some random woman on the street, I am not calling out to my God. And I make damn sure she isn't either. After all, you should show respect to the Lord.

Part II.
And while I'm on the subject: Why do women like such shitty music? I mean, what's up with that? Seriously, this one girl I know likes Dave Matthews because in her own words he is, "deep and stuff." Why is he deep? Because he sings boring lyrics while strumming an acoustic guitar? WOW! I guess if you compare Dave Matthews to Justin Timberlake, then he would come off as deep. What's with women and their odd obsession with guys who play acoustic guitars? Every time you see one of the ass clowns at a coffee shop chances are he is surrounded by women who are in awe of his "talent." Then he sings a song about how he was hurt by a previous girlfriend and all the girls are like, "OH POOR GUY! I would never treat him so shabbily." Then he hooks up with some random woman in the crowd and treats her shabbily.

Part III.

I hate musicians! I hate artists! The only good artists are the ones who make low brow fart comedies for the masses and willingly admit that they are doing it all for the money. I respect people who can admit that they are greedy, unlike the true "artists" who don't care about money, but you know are doing it to express themselves, while charging an arm and leg for the public to see their latest unimpressive art exhibit. I can't stand artists!

Ladies and gentlemen, the Bears are BACK!!!!

Now that the Bears have benched that no good Rex Grossman, they are bound to win the Super Bowl with the time tested Brian Griese. Unlike Grossman, Griese has lots of NFL experience. He has played on three other teams: The Broncos, Buccaneers, and the Dolphins. Sure, he's never started in the post-season, but that besides the point, unlike Grossman he will not LOSE games for your defense. His mechanics are solid. He's bound to breathe life into this struggling team. Ladies and gentlemen the Bears will be for real...eventually. Then all us Bears fans can relive 1985 all over again.

Incidentally, Brett Favre SUCKS! I don't care if he tied Dan Marino's record for most TD passes or has the most consecutive starts as a QB, he is not Brian Griese. I don't see him breathing life into struggling offense. He didn't play in the Super Bowl last year...oh wait neither did Griese. But the point is Brett Favre is washed up. His Packers may lead our division, but their days are numbered once Griese takes the first snap. I just watched PTI and Tony Kornheiser seems to be excited that Griese is the Bears starting quarterback, if Tony Kornheiser is excited then it's shoe in that the Bears are going to the Super Bowl. After all, last year he called them a team of destiny after their miracle win against the Arizona Cardinals.

Us Bears fans can finally take pride in our team, not that we ever lost it. I mean, we had our doubts, but with Grossman out of the equation their bound to be good again...I think. Maybe.
What?

I wish my girlfriend wasn't imaginary, because she would be so hot. I mean really, she would really make heads turn, but sadly she is just a figment of my imagination and no one can see her but I.
I remember when I first imagined her, it was a bright Sunday morning, the birds were chirping and then I thought to myself, "It would be so awesome to have a girlfriend." And just like that she appeared. It was a magical moment, almost as magical as that one scene in Mission to Mars in which the guy fixes the space ship with a tube of Dr. Pepper. I said, "What's your name?" She said, "I don't know, what do you want my name to be?" I said, "Sally." She said, "OK!" We went on a long walk and I told her all the heroic deeds I performed playing World of Warcraft. I told her how my Elf character Rackstack killed over 300 ogres single handedly. She was impressed. We then made out on a bench. This old couple passing by gave me an odd look, I replied, "Have you forgotten what's like to be in love?" They quickly ran away. Who are they to judge? Who are they? Fuckin' old timers! Why don't the stick to playing Bingo and leave us young lovers alone? Wait, I forgot my girlfriend is imaginary. DAMN IT! At least she's hot imaginary girlfriend. Or so I think? Actually, she's pretty average, but that's OK! She's like the Spider-Man 3 of imaginary girlfriends, not particularly good, but not bad either.
Wait, didn't I begin this post by saying my imaginary girlfriend would so hot if she was real. OOPS! My mistake!

Fighting the infestation was one of many problems, for there were six of us and we only had enough food to last three days at best. How would we survive? It was decided that in order to live one of us would have to die. But who would it be? Joe? Terry? Jim? Walter? Alice? Me? Well, it certainly wasn't me, for I am telling you this story right now. It couldn't be Alice, for she was the only female in the group. That narrows it down to four. Joe was a mechanic, therefore his skills might (and did) come use. Terry was a doctor, therefore he was indispensable. Jim was an alcoholic and Walter was an actor. It was decided one of the two had to go. Jim was a rather fun alcoholic, where as Walter was an annoying Method actor, who constantly repeated to himself, "I am a farmer. I am a farmer." It was decided Walter had to die.
Now how to go about doing it. We told Walter that we desperately wanted him to recite a scene from "Hamlet." He got in the corner, rubbed his temples, and started repeating to himself, "I am Hamlet." Then I crept up behind him and chopped off his head. Of course, after doing so, I learned that the infestation of giant rodents had been defeated, thus making Walter's murder absolutely unnecessary. Then again, no one seemed to care that he was gone.
Walter used to ramble on about how he got rave notices for his portrayal of Will in the high school production of "The Great Easter Egg Hunt." He would ramble about how all the woman fell in love with his sensitive depiction of a love torn intellect caught in a town full of hicks. He also bragged about his ability to improvise, like one time he forgot his line, so after stuttering for a full thirty seconds he came up with this gem, "Have you seen my wallet?" It got a huge applause from the audience or so he said. I later ran into some one who actually saw the play and she said that no one laughed at that line, rather every one in the audience groaned. Which begs the question, what good are actors? Why do they feel there work is so important? Why good are they accomplishing? I could understand acting as a hobby, but as a career? What the hell? Thankfully, Walter could no longer bore us will his long winded soliloquies or horrible slap stick routines. He was as dead as a door nail, just like the greedy Jacob Marley.
Meanwhile, after having successfully survived the giant rat infestation I decided it was time for me to propose to Alice. I popped the question at a Brewers game and she responded by shoving a hot dog in my face and kicking me in the groin. She broke my heart, but all the pain went away after seeing the Brewers destroy the Pirates 12 to 3. It was a great game. Well, great for all the Brewers fans any ways.
I was leaving the stadium in a drunken haze, when I noticed something in the corner of my eye. I looked to my left and ....gasp...saw a giant rat scrounging through the garbage. I realized that this was my moment to shine. I took tip toed to my car, buckled up, turned the ignition key, and slammed my foot on the gas petal. I was going to run the mother fucker down. Unfortunately, I left my car in park and the damn thing realizing what I was up to ran away. I had failed, much like Charlie Brown did when trying to pick a Christmas tree. The only difference is that in the end Charlie Brown didn't really fail after all, and the tree turned out to be a beautiful one once it was shown a little love and caring. On the other hand, no love and caring would make a giant rat beautiful. Or would it?
I bought a huge block of cheese from the local grocery store and proceeded to search the streets for this giant rat. My hope was that he would be lured by the scent of the cheese block and come to me, that way I could show him that I cared for him. Maybe, just maybe that lousy rat would respond to my kindness. All seemed lost, when I heard footsteps. Hark! It was the giant rat. I held out the block of cheese, it slowly came towards me. My hand started to shake. What was it going to do? Would it eat the cheese? Would it eat me? Would it bite off my hand? Well, it didn't eat me? It ate the cheese and my hand. It was about to devour the rest of me, when two gun shots rang out, dropping the rat dead in it's tracks. For it was my ex-girlfriend Alice, she said she had reconsidered and would marry me after all. What a glorious moment in my life. Not only had I successfully helped dispose of the rat, but my girl would marry me after all.
Later on, she left me for a country singer named Bob, but that's another story.