Everybody Is Awful_Except You!

by Jim Florentine

  When they do have sex, her kids are on her mind the whole time. In the middle of it she will say, “I hope the kiddos don’t hear us.” There’s a real good thing to say in the middle of having sex. How would they hear anything when there is not a peep coming out of her mouth? The only thing they might hear is the guy yelling, “I just lost my fucking hard-on!”

  Babymoon

  Noun [bey-bee-moon]

  Definition: A vacation like a honeymoon planned before the birth of a child

  Any expectant parent that plans a babymoon should consider adoption. Fuck, that word makes me cringe! Just say, “We’re going away for a few days because when the baby comes it’ll be crazy.”

  Is a babymoon fun for a woman? She’s seven months pregnant. She’s fat and her back hurts. She has cankles. She feels like shit, looks like shit, needs to take a shit, but can’t on the plane because she doesn’t fit in the fucking bathroom.

  Her hemorrhoids have flared up. Her roots have grown out. She can’t use hair dye. She can’t drink. She can’t smoke. She doesn’t want to fuck her husband. Her husband doesn’t want to fuck her. Wow! Sounds like this babymoon will be the best trip of their lives!

  When she gets there it’s too hot for her to hang at the pool. She can’t Jet Ski, hike, or zip line. Basically, she flew to another country to sit in a hotel room. If she does feel like having sex with her husband he’ll use the excuse that he’s afraid his penis will hit the baby. Meanwhile, he’s a white Irish guy. Even his wife were crowning at the time he still wouldn’t hit the baby in the head. But, he shouldn’t worry. It’s a babymoon! He should celebrate and fuck his fat wife!

  Abbreviations for Assholes

  Delish

  Adjective [duh-lish]

  Abbreviation for: Delicious

  If Scarlett Johansson came up to me, pulled her pants down, put her snatch right in my face, and said, “Here, taste it, it’s delish!” I would get up and walk away just because she used that word.

  Froyo

  Noun [froh-yoh]

  Abbreviation for: Frozen yogurt

  Who the fuck says, “You want to get some froyo?”

  If you said that to me, I’d fro you off a fucking cliff. When the police question me about your mangled body, I’ll tell them the fucking truth. “I pushed him because he’s a grown man and he asked me if I wanted to get some froyo.”

  I know the police wouldn’t fuck with me. They’d say, “I understand why you did it, you’re free to go!”

  My worst nightmare is riding home from dinner with new friends and someone asks, “Hey, you want to stop and get some froyo before we go home?” The moment I heard froyo, I would open the car door and do a tuck-and-roll into oncoming traffic.

  Bloody

  Noun [bluh-dee]

  Abbreviation for: A Bloody Mary cocktail

  Don Jamieson and I were in this restaurant having lunch and he ordered a Bloody Mary. Thirty minutes later, the waiter notices he’s finished and asks, “You want another bloody?” I threw up in my mouth!

  Ask a table of chicks if they want a bloody, not two guys wearing Black Sabbath T-shirts. Know your customers if you’re a waiter. Why would any guy ask another guy if they want a bloody? Anyone who uses that abbreviation should get his mouth bloodied!

  Deets

  Plural Noun [deets]

  Abbreviation for: Details

  Shortening the word details to deets is reprehensible. Deets is five letters. Details is seven. You’re saving two letters by saying deets.

  If someone asked, “Can you give me the deets for the froyo place?”

  I’d say, “Sure, pull out of your driveway and make a left into a fucking tree!”

  Brolly

  Noun [brah-lee]

  Abbreviation for: Umbrella

  Brolly doesn’t even make fucking sense as an abbreviation. Brella would make more sense even though it’s just as fucking horrendous. What the fuck is a brolly?

  If someone had a gun to my head and said, “Either you say the word brolly or I open this umbrella up in your ass!” I would bend over and pull my ass cheeks apart.

  Natty Ice

  Proper Noun [nat-ee ayss]

  Abbreviation for: The brand of beer called Natural Ice

  The only term for Natural Ice beer people should use is SHIT! Because that’s what it is!

  Natty Ice must be a generational thing. When I was growing up the shit beer was Old Milwaukee. We didn’t call it Old Mil, though. We said the whole fucking name just like it was meant to be said as you should.

  Shit beer can serve a purpose. When I was younger, we would bring a case of Old Milwaukee to a house party and nobody would want to drink it. Then, we would drink everyone else’s beer until it was gone and have the case of Old Milwaukee to ourselves. Perfect!

  Dunkies

  Proper noun [duhn-kees]

  Abbreviation for: Dunkin’ Donuts

  Hearing about the abbreviation dunkies made me want Dunkin’ Donuts to go out of business. How is Dunkin’ Donuts still in business anyway? It’s truly awful. When are people going to realize that they’re adults now, and they shouldn’t be eating donuts. I’d rather have the Ebola virus.

  I believe the assholes that love their shit coffee came up with the abbreviation Dunkies. If someone asked me if I wanted anything at Dunkies, I’d tell them to pick up a coffin. Why? Because when you get back home, I’m going to snap your fucking neck.

  Bae

  Noun [bey]

  Abbreviation for: Before Anyone Else

  The first time I saw the word Bae was on Facebook. A chick posted, “Bae won’t watch the movie Sweet Home Alabama with me!” If you use this revolting nickname for your significant other, keep it to yourself. It’s a fucking horrible abbreviation!

  Bae won’t watch Sweet Home Alabama because you call him Bae and because he has a cock in his pants. The movie he wants to watch is Sweet Home Ass Bangers, a porn movie he has downloaded on the basement computer. If you’re his true Bae, let him go jerk off to that while you watch your stupid romantic comedy.

  Za

  Noun [zah]

  Abbreviation for: Pizza and Zombie Apocalypse

  Are people so lazy that they can’t even say the word pizza? You have to say ’za? I would die of starvation before I would use that word.

  People also use ZA for Zombie Apocalypse. Let’s stop with that shit. There will never be a zombie apocalypse! Stop smoking weed and watching goofy TV shows about zombies.

  Is there a history of zombie attacks I don’t know about? Hold on. Let me go look it up. Okay, I just searched Google and it said: No asshole, zombies are make believe!

  Fuck your ZA, nerd! Go to Comic-Con and die!

  Brekkie

  Noun [breh-kee]

  Abbreviation for: An Australian breakfast

  Australia, please tell me you don’t use brekkie to describe breakfast. I’ve never been to your country but I love everything I’ve learned about it. I really want to visit because it seems like Australian people are rough around the edges and not so politically correct. The guys play rugby, go to the bar to get hammered, and get into fights. That’s fucking beautiful!

  I can’t imagine a tough, macho, Australian dude using the word brekkie. But, maybe it happens? Is it common? Do men respond to waitresses by saying, “I’m not going to order anything right now, I had a big brekkie this morning!”

  Please tell me if that happens, every dude at the table will take their heavy fucking beer mugs and smash them in that guy’s face! How about that for a fucking brekkie?

  Donzies

  Adjective [duhn-zees]

  Abbreviation for: Being done

  Donzies is so bad I think it’s the reason Ray Rice hit his fiancée in the elevator. They were hanging in a casino and Ray Rice probably said he wanted to play one more round of blackjack. She argued and said, “Not me, I’m donzies!” What happened after that is on the security footage.

  That’s why the commissioner of the NFL onl
y suspended Rice for two games. He intended to suspend him for the entire season but then he heard Ray’s girlfriend used the word donzies. That changed everything!

  I think he said, “Ray, I don’t condone what you did but I don’t blame you either.”

  This chapter is DONZIES!

  CHAPTER NINE

  SNUFF CALLS

  The success of Crank Yankers took my career to another level. During breaks from the show Don Jamieson and I recorded calls for a new Terrorizing Telemarketers comedy album. This is when our creative process hit a new level of insanity. So, we pushed the envelope with each new prank call, making up crazier premises every time we recorded. We had no idea that this new material would get us into serious trouble.

  It finally happened on a night when I was recording alone. I remember the exact moment, it was eight o’clock on a weeknight, prime time for telemarketers, and I got an interesting call.

  “Mr. Florentine, this is your new credit card company calling with a great deal. Today we are offering an immediate transfer of five thousand dollars! We will move this money from your credit line to your personal bank account at no charge to you.”

  “Okay,” I say. “What’s the catch?”

  “There’s no catch. All we need is your bank account information and we can process this as a wire transfer—immediately!”

  “Five thousand dollars? That’s a lot of money!”

  “Well, we know things come up, and many of our customers need emergency funds. We want to help and make sure you’re prepared for any unexpected circumstance. That’s why we called.”

  When the telemarketer mentioned an emergency, the wheels in my head spun—a seriously demented idea formed in my mind.

  “Oh, that’s great you want to help. I do have an emergency! You see, I just hit this old lady with my car yesterday. Now they are telling me I’ll have to pay all of her medical bills!”

  I hear nothing but dead silence on the other end of the line. That told me I’d hit a nerve. The hook was set. I start expanding my story to reel her in.

  “I just came back from visiting the old woman at the hospital,” I tell the telemarketer. “When I was there I noticed that I knocked out all of her teeth. I should start with that. Do you know how much a new set of choppers cost?”

  I could tell there was a tiny part of the telemarketer that wanted to hang up. However, this con artist was so desperate to make the money transfer, and get her bonus, she ignored her common sense.

  “Well sir, I think new teeth would cost somewhere around three hundred dollars, but I’m not positive.”

  I had raised the stakes and she didn’t flinch. I kept going.

  “How about a new walker? I demolished the one she had. I crushed it under my car.”

  “Maybe four hundred dollars?” She says.

  “Oh man, okay. So, I heard she’s going to have to wear diapers from here on out. What’s a year’s supply of those going to run me?”

  “That has to be a hundred dollars a month. For twelve months, you are looking at twelve to fifteen hundred dollars. This is adding up, sir. It looks like you’re definitely going to need the five thousand dollar advance. What’s your bank account information, I’ll transfer it right now!”

  Obviously, I’m not interested in this deal, but I go for her jugular and blurt out something without thinking about the possible repercussions.

  “You know what, I don’t want to waste all that money on this old bag! I’ll just go down to the hospital and kill that old lady!”

  Silence.

  At this point, she finally gives in.

  “I’m hanging up, sir,” she says.

  “Look, I’m going to the hospital right now and smother the old bitch with a pillow. I’ll be back home soon. Call me in about an hour and we can work this transfer out. Thanks for your help!”

  Click!

  Click! Here Come the Cops!

  Twenty minutes later, the fun was over. I had a surprise at my door—two very serious-looking New Jersey detectives were on my porch.

  “Are you Mr. James Florentine?” One scowling cop asked me.

  The call had backfired. The telemarketer called the police in my town because she had all my information right in front of her.

  “Yeah, I’m Jim Florentine,” I said in my friendliest voice.

  “Can we come in?”

  “Yeah, what’s this about?”

  “You were just on a phone call where you said you were going to go kill an old lady?”

  Oh, shit! I start pleading my case.

  “Yeah, I said that, but I was messing around. I do these prank calls and I was just trying to get her off the phone.”

  “Let me see your identification,” one detective demanded.

  While I pulled out my driver’s license, I noticed the other cop walking through the house. He was poking his head in every room.

  “Can I ask what you’re doing, officer?”

  “I’m looking for the victim—a corpse!”

  Holy shit! Now I start to panic!

  “Look, I work on this prank call show called Crank Yankers. It’s a television show on Comedy Central. I don’t know if you’ve ever watched it? I’m the guy that goes, Yaay, I got mail, I got mail! and Bread makes me poop! Have you seen the show?”

  The two detectives just stare at me like I’m a total idiot.

  One of them notices the recorder hooked up to the phone and ask me what I’m doing with it.

  “I sit by the phone all day and wait for telemarketers to call so I can pull pranks on them. I record the calls and I put them out on CDs.”

  He checks my driver’s license again.

  “You’re thirty-four years old. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He throws my license at me. “We don’t have a problem with you doing prank calls but don’t threaten anyone,” he says.

  “Of course, no problem.”

  “You should know something, if we find a dead old lady in this area we’re coming back for you. You’ll be our number-one suspect! You got that?”

  What the fuck? A suspect? I was in shock things had turned on me so fast.

  “Don’t worry you guys will never hear from me again—I promise!”

  The cops leave and I finally get it through my thick head, there are limits to these prank calls. I promise myself I’ll be more careful next time.

  Guess what, it takes a lot for me to learn my lesson. That was not the last time prank calls landed me in trouble. Two weeks after the old lady call, I was facing six months in jail for another prank call gone wrong. Keep reading and you will see what a piece of garbage I am.

  Awful Shopping: Bagging the Grocery Store

  The infamous Old Lady Snuff Call taught me many things. One of the biggest lessons was learning that some salespeople and businesses will do just about anything to make a buck. Unfortunately, for all the normal people in the world, those high-pressure sales tactics have migrated over to other businesses. You can’t buy a fucking pack of gum without someone up-selling you. That’s one reason shopping has become so awful. You can’t walk into a store without being hassled by the staff, like you’re getting cross-examined on the witness stand.

  What the Fuck Are You Doing Here?

  One of the worst places to shop is the fucking grocery store!

  When I go to the supermarket I’m determined to get what I need and get the fuck out—as fast as possible! Like most people, I usually have a long list of things to do and want to get back to my work or life. People who take their time in a supermarket must not be happy at home. They hate their spouse so they kill time wandering aimlessly down aisles filled with things they are never going to buy. And if these dummies see you ducking in to get milk, they stop you and chat you up. I hate having conversations in the middle of the grocery store. Meet me at the bar down the street and we’ll have a beer, but don’t make small talk about the weather. I know it’s hot out. That’s why I have shorts on jerk-off!

  There is one question I despi
se more than any other: Hey, what are you doing here?

  I insist on answering them like this:

  “What are you doing here?” they ask.

  “I’m here to buy a new sports car. What are you doing here?” I say.

  “A car? Come on really, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m actually here to get my dog circumcised. They have a special promotion in the pet food aisle. What are you doing here?”

  “I’m food shopping.”

  “Oh, they have food here?”

  “Of course they do! Seriously, what are you doing here?”

  “You’re probably not going to believe this but my son and I get hungry from time to time and we run out of food so we come here. Anything else fuck face?”

  Cart Creeps

  Normal people keep their carts up against the shelf so other shoppers can get around them with no problem. That’s just proper shopping cart etiquette. But then you always have those self-entitled cunts that block the aisle without a care in the world.

  Most of the time, the best thing is to say excuse me and just push their cart over a bit and cruise on by. Then, you get the assholes that give you attitude. They narrow their eyes at you as if to say, “Oh, sorrrrry! Was I in your way?”

  That infuriates me.

  “Yeah, you are in my way! Your fucking cart is in the way and your fucking damn kid is in my way. The world doesn’t revolve around you, jerk-off!”

  Sometimes, when I see someone walking away from their cart and it’s blocking the aisle I approach them like they are a store employee.

  “Hey, just wanted you to know, some rude and obnoxious person who doesn’t give a shit about anyone else, just left that cart in the middle of the aisle. Maybe you should take the cart up to customer service because it looks like they’ve abandoned it.”

  “Sorry, that’s my cart,” they usually say.

  The response on their face is beautiful. The next time I roll by that ass the aisle is clear enough to land a 747!