fuck you, nike.

loved those puppet commercials all throughout the playoffs there, great maker of swoosh. unfortunately, the cleveland kid didn't get the invite to the big show. oh well, fuck him. and fuck your marketing campaign that tries to convince us that there are only two players in the nba.

cheers to another year lived in which i have as many rings as je bron lames.

at this rate, je bron, you are never catching up to kobe...you overrated, fascist piece of shit.

billy bad butt is a lucky piece of rat shit.

david reuttiman..and no, i don't give a shit if i'm spelling it right, is a humongous douchebag for even accepting the trophy at this years coca cola 600...erm 335.

you are like that cocksucker that sucks out runner, runner for a strait in poker and then claims that you "knew it all along" or "had a feeling"...feel my balls, you dick cheese.

you earned it...

quit acting fey...morrissey already has that market covered

but no for real...fuck tina fey. double fuck her. the thing is, she pretends to be all not about exploiting her looks and shit because she wants you to pay attention to how not funny she is or some shit, but she just seems so phony, like the only reason she makes her stupid fucking jokes is so that you will think she is cute.

your balancing act is tired...please retreat to suburban sprawl like all the other marginally attractive/talented bitches.

oh...and yours was the worst era ever of snl. and that's saying a lot.

queso por favor

since we love all forms of hate, even the kind that allows us to hate ourselves, can i just ask: does the layout of this blog look like a crappy menu at an even crappier mexican restaurant or what? i mean seriously...it looks like puke.

the helen keller design team.

i hate therefore i am...

the only thing i truly love...is to hate your favorite band right in front of your face. cause they suck with a pompous love for their inflated egos...i'm talking directly to you, fans of the smiths.

later losers

radiohead just got served on later with jules holland. the lunchlady's name was mary j. blige and she blew thom yorke off the stage. fake artistic jerk-offs.

no, seriously...

go the hell away james blunt. your eyes are creeping me out.