Thursday, May 29, 2014


Florida, the state of false advertising and low IQs, if it was a celebrity it would be Anna Nicole Smith…the alive version of course.

Palm trees, beautiful beaches and gorgeous women in bikinis, only in postcards, because it’s more like horrible drivers, die-hard Republican rednecks and fat people fighting over the last piece of chicken fried steak on the buffet.

Florida is so bad that the South won’t even claim it, they were for slavery back in the day, even willing to go to war over it, but when it comes to laying claim to the state they want no part of it.

I could totally see the rest of the country wearing a T-shirt which reads, “We’re with Stupid” with an arrow pointing down to Florida.

The only thing smaller than IQs down here is the amount of teeth these hillbilly bitches have in their mouth, thinking about it, too bad their IQs don’t match their waist size, because if it did this would be a state full of geniuses.

Most people don’t know this, but Florida is actually an acronym, it stands for “Fat Lazy Opinionated Redneck Ignorant Dumb Asses”, and trust me if you’ve ever lived here you would know this to be the truth.

The people are all dicks down here, which I guess is fitting, considering that the state itself looks like a giant dick.

The weather is so freaking hot down here, on most days it feels as if you’re nestled nicely in Satan’s ass crack, and on other days, it’s so hot it feels as if your skin is melting right off the bone, you’re walking around looking like the Toxic Avenger.

There are also more frivolous lawsuits down here than any other place I’ve ever been to; it’s almost as if it’s a sport, a crazy competition to rack up the most dough by suing the as many people as possible…let’s make a deal scammers edition.

The people, the laws and the politics all run backwards down here, it is as if someone is constantly pressing the rewind button on the remote, making it feel as if we’re stuck in some insane time warp that won’t let us move past the prehistoric times.

The people down here also have their own language, it is like nothing I have ever heard before, and honestly hurts my ears (and head) just listening to it, kind of sounds like a cross between Corky (Life Goes On) and Mushmouth (Fat Albert) with a Southern twang.

There’s more crazy old people down here than at Denny’s during the early bird special, all jacked up on caffeine and as senile as ever, and lucky us, they all have a license to drive.

Who knows maybe I’m being too hard on Florida, but being down here makes me feel as if I’m in some sort of commonsense coma with my only life-support system being a mouse on exercise wheel, and the mouse just happens to be Pinky (Pinky and the Brain).

I know what you’re thinking, if it’s really all that bad why don’t I just move, well honestly I’m too lazy and the overall cost of living isn’t really all that bad down here.

So there you have it, why Florida sucks ass and why I’m choosing to stay down here and embrace the misery.


Monday, May 19, 2014

"Indie Chick’s 2014 Badass Blog Awards Nomination"

Guess who’s nominated in the “Most Likely to Piss People Off Blog” category over at the Indie Chick’s 2014 Badass Blog Awards?

So come on over and show me some love.

Let people know that it’s okay to think outside the box, that it’s okay to go against the grain and that it’s okay to let your freak flag fly high and proud.

There’s no need to be embarrassed and/or lazy, just follow the link below and vote for the Insane Asylum, no one will ever know and I promise you won’t even break a sweat.

Remember, every time you vote for me an angel get its wings, or a devil its horns if you so prefer.

Voting is only open until May 30th, 8:00 pm EST, so get a move on people, and tell all your friends…and enemies; this is no time to be sensitive.


Friday, May 2, 2014

“Working the Pole”

I need a way to make some extra money, preferably something legal because I don’t want to end up in jail as someone’s bitch.

I thought about hitting the pole and trying my hand at being a stripper, but then I thought who would want to see a chunky white guy in Daisy Dukes dry humping the air and smacking an imaginary ass in the process.

Not only that but I’m extremely white, and we all know what “they” say about us crackers, and no I’m not talking about the tiny pee pee thing, because that couldn't be any more of a fallacy…am I right white people **nervously looks around**.

I’m referring to the whole no rhythm thing, which in my case is totally true; I can’t even walk down the hallway without bumping into a wall or two along the way.

I would come to the stage to some sleazy tongue-in-cheek rock song, sporting a name like White Chocolate or Third Leg Greg, something to get the chicks (and the genetically enhance straight men aka the gays) all hot and bothered.

Tassels hanging from my nipples as if I was a fancy chandelier, and gyrating my body as if I was in a spin cycle to make them swing like a windmill, and most likely smacking myself in the eye with them due to my awkward demeanor.

This in turn would leave me stumbling to the pole as if I was Helen Keller, the whole time hoping for a miracle worker, but instead ending up with a performance that was best suited for “America’s Funniest Videos” rather than a strip club.

Then that is where the fantasy would end, I would go to jump on the pole, wrapping my legs on top trying to be all sexy, only to slide down it landing flat on my back.

I would have fallen and not been able to get “it” up **huh huh**, actually that’s not funny, because I would have a hurt back and no dollar bills in my G-string to show for it.

Due of my “big bones”, and loads of body glitter, I would end up looking like a disco ball rolling around the stage crying out in pain, and who in their right minds wants that.

I also don’t know if one could collect workers' comp for falling off of a stripper pole, so why risk it.

So obviously stripping is not in my future, not unless people want to see some fat naked white guy sitting on a chair bobbing his head and tapping his foot to the music while slowly shedding his clothing as if he was a snake shedding its skin.