Everybody Is Awful_Except You!

by Jim Florentine

  You might think that your beef stew is delicious but nobody else does. There are seventy-five different chef shows on TV and you’re not on any of them. There’s a reason you’re not a fucking chef in a restaurant. You make stew by pouring it out of a can. It’s not delicious.

  Try putting that in a real restaurant and see if people will order it. Your family or friends might tell you it looks good because they don’t want to hurt your feelings. It looks like a bowl of shit and nobody wants to see a fucking picture of that.

  Get this day some butter, it’s on a roll? Are you fucking kidding me? That could be the worst thing I’ve ever read in my life. I’d rather read a post that says I’ve been charged with kiddie porn.

  Cooked shrimp alfredo! LOL! Jealous?

  Cooking shrimp alfredo is not the feat of a genius chef.

  Cooking from a recipe is like a garage band doing cover songs in a shitty bar. It’s me going on stage and telling George Carlin jokes.

  Likewise, it takes zero brainpower to follow directions on a box of shrimp alfredo. A trained monkey can stir that shit until it’s heated. Nobody is impressed.

  If you have a shellfish allergy and end up choking on that plate of pasta that would be funny. I’d laugh at that—lolololol!

  Porky’s Roll

  Assholes that brag about finishing work early are the worst. Brutal! Why do we care? We don’t but that doesn’t stop people like this teacher.

  I just finished grading my tests! Call me a pork roll with egg and cheese cuz I’m on a roll.

  I’ve come across a lot of these that say, I’m on a roll.

  This woman gives it a new twist. I don’t know what a pork roll with egg and cheese is, but it sounds fucking horrible.

  When you write this shit, you’re telling your Facebook friends you did the work you’re supposed to do. Aren’t you fucking impressive!

  This woman is a teacher. Their job is not harder than others. She gives tests, takes them home, grades them, and then brings them back the next day.

  I’ll like your post if you write, “Just fucked 4 students in the last month! Call me a pork roll with egg and cheese cuz I’m on a roll.”

  Compliment Bait

  Bragging about your children or spouse is another shitty way people get validation online. People who do this are using their loved ones as compliment bait. For example, this next post is from a woman who doesn’t really care what people think about her kid, she’s jealous and wants to turn the spotlight back on herself.

  Cooper is such a cutie. He’s already getting all the attention.

  Guess what, the kid gets attention because he’s three years old. People naturally respond to little kids in a positive way.

  When I walk in a room and I see a little kid, I’ll go right over to him. Most of the time my other options are people who are standing around, staring into their phones, gossiping, and talking about a new iPhone app.

  Kids are interesting but you’re not. That’s why he is getting all the attention, you fucking dummy. When you spread your legs that fateful night, you should have known the days of it being about you were over!

  Sounds of Stupid

  Whenever I say the word “cow” my baby makes noises. She’s only one! #SmartOneYearOld #SmartCookie

  Every one-year-old child makes noises you dumb fuck. And what the fuck is a smart cookie? Is that a term they use on that nerd show Big Bang Theory that I’ve never watched because I don’t have conversations on who would win in a fight, Batman or Superman?

  On second thought, maybe I’m wrong. The kid could be a genius. Let’s test that.

  Have her do your taxes this year. Let’s see how that works out for you. Let’s see if the IRS has an issue with forms being filled out in crayon.

  Complete & Utter Horseshit

  This next parent posted a Facebook brag that is super cringe-worthy.

  Tonight, I come to you with complete and utter honesty. My wee one was so completely amazing today, she is such an inspiration, I can only hope she stays on this path. Let’s all have faith that I can continue to be that parent she needs because after all that’s where it all begins. Thank you for this amazing child that calls me Mom!

  Brag, brag, brag!

  Let’s all have faith? Why?

  Faith has nothing to do with taking care of your child. Just make good decisions and everything will be fine. If you’ve been drinking, don’t drive. If the kid is in the car, don’t text. Most of parenting is based on common sense. You don’t need your friends’ prayers to figure out what to do. The only time I ask my friends for prayers is if the condom breaks with some chick I met off of Tinder.

  Looney Tunes Loser

  Disney songs! Drinking! Still up! Winning! Party until tomorrow! YOLO!

  This loser posted this with a picture of playing cards and some beer bottles. Okay, that’s normal. But, who in the fuck listens to Disney songs when they are playing poker? That has to be one of the worst fucking nights a guy could imagine. You need to focus when playing cards. When I think of Disney I think of overcrowding, kids crying, and fat people in my way.

  Four years ago, I played cards with some guys at a friend’s house. The homeowner was super drunk and losing all his money. After losing his last hand, he jumped on the table, pulled his pants down, and took a shit all over the table. That’s how you play cards with your friends.

  CHAPTER THREE

  CONSTRUCTION STORIES

  Making crank calls and pulling pranks on your friends is age appropriate when you are in junior high. All young boys have a phase where they are crazy and immature but most kids eventually outgrow it. I never did. My pranks seemed to get more awful and more disgusting the older I got.

  Some of my worst years were between the ages of twenty and twenty-four. During that time, I had zero direction in life and lost my way. I became a disgusting slob and lived like a fucking animal.

  My dream of becoming a comedian was on the shelf. So far back on the shelf, I lost all sight of it. My brothers worked in real estate and bought old shitty houses to flip and resell. Luckily, they found out I needed a job and took pity on me.

  There were a few good things about working construction. I could zone out while I was ripping sheetrock off the walls and picking up trash. Also, some of my good friends worked with me. That meant I could play jokes on them when I was miserable and bored.

  Piss Cubes

  One miserable summer I was working with my friend Vinnie and we were helping my brother Joe demolish the inside of an old house. The house had been abandoned for some time. The air conditioner was broken. Clothes and trash were up to our ankles. Cat shit littered the house like little landmines. The place was disgusting, dirty, and about 100 degrees inside. It was a fucking hellhole!

  The first day we worked there was a complete disaster with garbage littered all over the place. The only good thing in the whole damn place was a refrigerator. For some reason, it still worked. I took note it had a small freezer inside.

  One day I went to get a drink and found two empty ice cube trays in the freezer. When no one was looking, I took the trays into the bathroom and took a piss in them. I made sure every single one of the twenty-four squares was filled perfectly. I put them back in the freezer and told no one about it. To this day, I don’t know what possessed me to do that.

  Cut to a week later, someone bought sandwiches at the local deli and the crew sat down to eat lunch in the kitchen. I noticed my buddy Vinnie was drinking lemonade out of a glass jar. The sound of his ice clinking around in the jar was like an alarm going off.

  “Vinnie, where’d you get the ice?!”

  “From the freezer.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Yeah, there was an ice cube tray in there and figured I use the ice.”

  Holy fuck, he’s drinking my piss cubes!

  Adrenaline pulsed through my body when I realized what was happening. I’m older than Vinnie but he’s pushing 6’2” and weighs in at 240. He’s my friend
but he could easily kick my ass.

  On this day, Vinnie wasn’t in the mood to fuck around. He was hot and he’d worked hard all day so I was scared as shit to tell him about the piss cubes because I knew it would send him over the edge and he would murder me. So, I waited.

  In fact, I waited exactly fifteen years. By that time, Vinnie was married and had five kids. I had a gig in New Jersey at the Stress Factory and it happened to be on his birthday so I invited him, his family, and friends to the club.

  When the show started, Vinnie was seated at a large reserved table in the back of the room. The room was packed. There were about 350 people there and Vinnie had another twenty people at his table celebrating with him. Everyone was laughing and having fun.

  About midway through my set, I told the audience, “Hey everyone, my friend Vinnie is here tonight. He’s celebrating his birthday. Give him a big round of applause!”

  Then, I launched into the piss cubes story. I explained it in great detail right up to that moment when I watched him suck down those pieces of golden-colored ice. The crowd went fucking crazy.

  I yelled out to Vinnie, “How does feel to know you drank my piss, Vinnie?”

  Even though he was all the way in the back, I could hear him screaming like a crazy man.

  “Fuck you! Fuck you motherfucker! You’re fucking dead after the show!”

  The whole audience was laughing hysterically.

  Later, Vinnie said, “I really wanted to get up and fucking kill you! Why didn’t you tell me those ice cubes were piss?” I said, “What fun would that be? By the way, Happy Birthday!”

  Shit Bag Surprise

  I played another prank on Vinnie while we were working in that same house. The bathroom was especially disgusting. The floor and the tub were overflowing with trash. Vinnie was asked to paint the ceiling before he cleaned it out so if the paint dripped down it wouldn’t hurt anything.

  It was ninety degrees outside. We were all sweating our asses off but it was worse for Vinnie because he was crammed in that little bathroom and it felt like an oven. Vinnie would take frequent smoke breaks to get out of the heat. One time while he was out, I went in the bathroom, took a shit in a brown grocery bag, and hid the bag underneath all the trash. I told the other guys what I did and ran back upstairs to my job.

  Vinnie comes back in to finish his painting and immediately screams.

  “WHAT THE FUCK! IT FUCKING STINKS IN HERE! DID SOMEONE TAKE A SHIT IN HERE? WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?”

  Everyone ran to the bathroom.

  “What are you talking about Vinnie?” I asked.

  “Don’t you smell this? It wasn’t like this before. It fucking stinks!” He was livid.

  All the guys denied smelling the shit bag. “No, man. We don’t smell anything.”

  “YOU DON’T SMELL IT?” He yelled.

  “Nope. Don’t smell a thing!” I said.

  “I can’t stand this. This is fucking horrible.”

  The whole day Vinnie worked with that bag of shit right next to him. Every hour he’d lose his patience and erupt!

  “MOTHERFUCKER!”

  I’d yell down, “What happened? Did you spill the paint?”

  “Man, this is driving me crazy. It smells like someone took a shit right under my nose.”

  I would come down, pretend to look for the bag, and go through the same routine. “Vin let me check this again. I don’t smell anything. Where is it coming from?”

  “How can you not smell that?”

  This went on for the whole fucking day. Right before we quit, he started throwing everything out of the room because he couldn’t take it anymore and he finally found the bag. He went fucking crazy and yelled.

  “WHO THE FUCK DID THIS?!”

  There was no hiding this one. I had the biggest smirk on my face and couldn’t stop laughing. He figured out it was me. Then, he whipped the shit bag across the room and hit me right in the chest with it. The prank was well worth getting hit by a shit bag.

  Morning Traffic Turds

  Part of this time, I lived in Florida with my friend Dave. Dave and I would work as laborers on the local construction sites. We would grind it out for a week, get the paycheck, then quit, and live off the money for another few weeks.

  One of these construction jobs was on the corner of a busy intersection. They were building a massive condominium complex and while they cleared the field they put a Porta-John on the edge of the site. It ended up twenty feet from the main traffic signal. If you opened the door, you were staring right at people waiting for the light to change.

  The second day on the job, I climbed in the Porta-John and took a shit while Dave held the door open. He pretended that he was fixing the hinges while I dropped a deuce. It was nine o’clock in the morning. Rush hour traffic was crawling by and my stunt became the main attraction. People were honking, yelling, and screaming at me.

  “SHUT THAT DAMN DOOR!”

  “THAT IS DISGUSTING YOU FUCKING IDIOT!”

  The beeping and honking was insane and I sat there with a straight face reading the paper with my pants down to my ankles. Someone must have complained because the next day the Porta-John was turned around and facing the construction site.

  MORE ANNOYING AIRPLANE ANNOUNCEMENTS

  A while back, I took a red-eye flight. The plane was late and we were stuck at the gate for hours. Everyone was sitting in those black leather metal armchairs. Airports call them passenger terminal chairs. They have zero padding and make your ass numb in two minutes. You can’t recline or take a nap in them. They might as well be concrete benches.

  The gate attendant keeps updating us saying, “Please remain comfortably seated.” That’s impossible! No one is comfortable in these fucking seats! I’ve never been in someone’s house that has these chairs. Can you imagine that?

  “Are those the seats from the airport?”

  “Yeah, they are so damn comfortable we had to get them for our house.”

  That has never happened because they are horrible. They stink!

  We get on the plane and we are delayed again. We sat on the runway for two hours. Everybody is sleeping because it is one o’clock in the morning. Then, they make announcements on how to put a seat belt on. Everybody knows how to put a fucking seat belt on. My five-year-old son knows how to put a seat belt on. You click it in and then you click it out.

  Next, they start in on the carry-on bags. “Make sure you are careful when you open the overhead compartment. The bags may have shifted during the flight.”

  Those bags never shift! Everything is stuffed in there so tight I need a hammer and a chisel just to get my bags out. If the plane flew upside down and you opened that compartment, none of the bags would shift.

  Then, they tell us about the drink cart. Everybody is sleeping but they announce it anyway, “The drink cart is coming around. We have Coke, Diet Coke, Mountain Dew, orange juice, Coors, Coors Light.”

  We fucking know! Just say the drink cart is on its way! I feel everyone knows what’s on the cart. It’ll be soda and beer. Do you have to name ninety different things? How about when you pull up everybody looks at the selection?

  Last but not least, they remind us three times that there is no smoking on the flight. There hasn’t been smoking on a flight since 1995! You can’t even smoke outside anymore. Why would you be able to smoke on a plane? Where is the ashtray on the plane? Do they think we expect the flight attendant to take our cigarette butts when we are done smoking? After they make that announcement, to the next flight attendant I see I say, “Excuse me but did they say smoking or nonsmoking on this flight?” The dirty look I get is precious.

  Awful Facebook Rule #3: Motivate People with Your Bullshit!

  Reading motivational Facebook posts is the worst! It’s ironic how a few sentences meant to inspire you can instead make you want to slit your wrists. That’s the exact feeling I have every time I read someone posting their inspirational horseshit online.

  This makes co
ming up with the third rule of How to Be Awful on Facebook very easy—motivate people with your bullshit!

  These kinds of posts are usually just shitty retreads of Oprah-wisdom. They stink! You can get better inspiration out of a fortune cookie. Nothing says I’m a loser more than posting a quote about being a winner.

  Think Positive!

  There are a few types of motivational advice that reoccur on Facebook: think positive, have no regrets, accept yourself, be tough, set goals, and take action.

  Think positive is a self-help phrase that has been run into the ground. It’s impossible to think positive all the damn time. I’ll think positive next time someone I don’t like is waiting for their AIDS results. Check this horrific post out.

  I’m Positive This Is Bullshit

  Here’s this woman’s update:

  Health is not just about what you’re eating, it’s also about what you’re thinking!

  Okay lady, so you’re telling us that health is linked to what you’re eating and what you’re thinking? Are you trying to say positive thinking is good for you? Get the fuck out of here!

  Just one question, how would it affect your health if you ate my sweaty ass? What? You’re not sure if you’d like it? Just think positive thoughts and I’m sure it will be a great experience for you!

  Happiness Is Not a Choice, Cunt!

  I’m sure you know assholes like this next woman. Don’t you hate it when a person has a run of good luck and suddenly becomes an expert on how to live? This is exactly what this awful Facebook hag is doing: