Happy Find… F— This Website

There’s just something about that four-letter word that I just love.  It could be the way it rolls off the tongue.  It could be that the sensors in the brain deal with pain merely at the utterance of the word.  I’d like to think that it is the most cyclical word in the world.

Two people fuck and then say “fuck” when they find out there’s a little fucker on the way that they can’t say “fuck” in front of anymore.  (In theory, anyway.)

Is it poetic?  Perhaps not, but as I mentioned already, I love that four-letter word.

Which is probably why I enjoy websites that make use of the word in their URL, like these sites.  And this one.  Don’t forget about this, too.

Imagine my glee at the discovery of Fuck This Website.  It’s purpose is as simple as the expletive.  Stickers are posted over existing signs, photos are taken, and images are posted.  It’s not FUCKet science.

More proof that smoking is bad for you.

More proof that smoking is bad for you.

Drunken Recollection… Return Of The Hangover

On the taxi ride from Tom’s Restaurant back to East Village, Steve passed out quickly, and not soon after, I followed suit.  Tim bid us farewell, and I remained awake for our ride back to Midtown.  The taxi that narrowly missed crashing into the backseat where I was sitting probably helped…


Upon reaching our final destination without reaching the final destination, Steve decided he wanted some more food.  I think I agreed.  We remembered seeing a Taco Bell on our way to the pizzeria the day before, so we ambled forth in search of late night seasoned beef and cheese and tortillas and rice…

The next morning, after awakening in our dirty Snuggies, we tried recalling the run for the border.  We remembered that it was more like a regular deli that had a Taco Bell in the back.  The Taco Bell was closed, yet the front remained in business.  Weird.  Steve didn’t think he purchased any food, and I cannot confirm or deny that fact, but I do know he inquired about it.

Steve – “How much for pizza?”

Worker – “$3.50 a slice.”

Steve – “I’ll give you three for a half.”

The rest is fuzzy, and so was Steve.  He wasn’t feeling too hot on the morning of our ride home, whereas this time, I felt fine.  Upon learning of my faux pas regarding the hot dog joint/secret bar, we made the decision to seek it out properly before leaving.  We had to know if it truly did exist.

So on the way to the subway station at Times Square, we stopped at this place to get cupcakes:

"No doubt that bakery’s got all da bomb frostins/ I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling." RIP "The Notebook" Love

"No doubt that bakery’s got all da bomb frostins/ I love those cupcakes like McAdams loves Gosling." RIP "The Notebook" Love

While outside enjoying “da bomb frostins,” we bore witness to a scene straight out of Police Academy.  A short cop was surrounded by tall European women,  in their late teens to mid-twenties (with an elder or two over-seeing them), and he was posing for pictures with them. 

There were well over a dozen of them (a baker’s dozen?), and he had to make sure there was variety in his stylings.  When Steve and I walked into Magnolia, he was letting them put on his hat and hold his night stick.  When we were eating, he was fastening handcuffs on one of the girls.  I just imagined that if he was called for an emergency, he’d leave her behind locked up.

From there, we took the subway to Union Square, and met up with Tim and Mike again.  Tim was excited and had this to say:

I’ve finally made a union with someone at Union Square.

Anyhotdog, our final mission before leaving NYC was to locate this secret bar.  It was not far from our point of departure the night before, and here’s what we found:

Not too be confused with Mark's Place.

Not too be confused with Mark's Place.

Once inside, I stared at the counter of the narrow establishment seeking out the phone booth that would lead us to the bar called P.D.T. (Please Don’t Tell).  I turned left, and there it was:

Get Smart... or Superman?

Get Smart... or Superman?

I pushed open the door, and the guy behind the counter told me it didn’t open until six.  Bummer city.

Lift the receiver and wait for approval to enter the secret bar.

Lift the receiver and wait for approval to enter the secret bar.

We ordered some dogs.  I had mine made Seattle-style, in honor of this upcoming weekend’s trip.  (It’s cream cheese on a hot dog in a bun.)  From there, we made our way back to Madison Square Garden and Penn Station.  And from there back to Newark, and then back




Happy Find… F— You, Penguin

If I was Clint Eastwood Dirty Harry, and I said to someone, “Go ahead… make my day,” and they pulled out their mobile phone with TripleDoubleU access (carefully) to show me this site, I’d let them go (y’know, because they made my day).

The site?  Fuck You, Penguin.  The reason why?  See below.

Now I know it’s from another blogging community, and believe me, I’m not cheating on you my beloved WordPress.  But I believe it is part of my duty to go out and explore, and return like Uncle Traveling Matt with news of my discoveries.  It’s similar to how Detroit has better access to Canadian music, then shares it with the rest of the U.S.  (As a Canadian may say, “Sore-y aboot Nickelback, eh?“)

SIDENOTE: On St. Patrick’s Day, the radio station Mix 96.7 was giving away an Elmo DVD to the first caller that could name the biggest movie star to ever come out of Ireland.  Two people in row answered Mel Gibson.  (There’s so many things wrong in just two sentences.)

But I digress… back to Fuck You, Penguin.  (Not to be confused with my other Happy Find, Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling!)

Some samples:

In regard to this, the Baudet de Poitou Donkey, and there only being four hundred of them, FUP said:


"You better find a mate and start knocking boots, Donkey, so you can start sprouting up like American Apparels. I don't understand how you can be such prudes, seeing as you are French. What, are you saving yourself for the right donkey?"

 Then there’s his tirade at a Porcupine in a tree:

"Very clever, Porcupine. You want me to catch you, don't you? You might have cute little teeth and a furry belly, but you've got giant quills all over your back, and if I come any closer, I'm going to be in a world of pain unmatched even by what your little porcupine paws are doing to me."
“Very clever, Porcupine. You want me to catch you, don’t you? You might have cute little teeth and a furry belly, but you’ve got giant quills all over your back, and if I come any closer, I’m going to be in a world of pain unmatched even by what your little porcupine paws are doing to me.”

I think the stuff is funny as shit poop.  (Ever notice how most words double-o’s are funny for some reason?  Poop, boobs, food… okay maybe just poop and boobs).  You may not.  And if you don’t, I’ll just call you a penguin.

Happy Find… Mad Xzibs

This may give Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling! a run for the money, and kick Heck Yeah! Taylor Swift! to the curb (please don’t touch her… she’s an angel).

It’s called Mad Xzibs, and it goes a little something like this:

SUP DAWG, WE HEARD YOU LIKE(D) ______, SO WE _______ ______ IN THE _______ (SO YOU CAN ______ WHILE YOU _____).

I guess it’s been around for awhile, so much so that there’s a controversy over using “SUP DAWG” and “YO DAWG,” but I just found about it from an old Urlesque article, so here it is.  These are two of a few that cracked me up.  The Urlesque page is the better of the two since its condensed, but the Encyclopedia Dramatica article is not without its humor in explaining more of the history.

A few of my favorites:

Alvin Joiner & Xzibit



Happy Find… F— Yeah! Ryan Gosling & Anne Hathaway!

Duh-duh-DUHDUH!  Introducing a pair of lovely sites, Fuck Yeah! Ryan Gosling! and Fuck Yeah! Anne Hathaway!

Gosling’s is a bit Fuck Yeah!-ing-ier than Hathaway’s, but you may think differently.  The basic premise is this – take LOLcats, get rid of the cats, add the respective “Hey girl/dude” tagline followed by normal English, and eliminate the stupid LOLspeak.  Voila!  Some samples:



I feel the creators of these sites are missing out on some other celebrities (although I do love Orson Welles’ quotes on each home page).  For example, what about a Fuck Yeah! William Shatner!


…or even a Fuck Yeah! George Clooney!


…or especially a  Fuck Yeah! Julie Bowen!


And then there’s always this guy:



(via Filmdrunk)