Babies are scary; you can never tell what they're thinking. Are they happy with me, or are they they pissed with me? Are they staring at me because they're concentrating on pooping themselves, or are they eye-ballin' me? Sure, a cry could be because they're hungry, but couldn't it also be how they say, "Let's take this outside, jerk!" Well, finally, some brave man made a training video for all of us who may need to defend ourselves against these tiny, yet fierce creatures.
Thank you, Gavin McInnes. Thank you...
Rep. Trey Radel Photo Credit: Getty Images
For those confused by the title, "The 'Hip Hop Conservative'" is how Florida Congressman Trey Radel describes himself on his twitter page and "yayo" is slang for cocaine. And for those still confused because they don't know whether to be outraged or defensive, the distinguished gentleman from Florida is a Republican. I'm not sure why that matters to people, but whatever gets them through the day.
He tweeted about it:
I'm profoundly sorry to let down my family, particularly my wife and son, and the people of Southwest Florida. http://t.co/PfVwSHQsbq— Rep. Trey Radel (@treyradel) November 19, 2013
Of course, people will make the comparison to Toronto Mayor Rob Ford, and they should; Radel is even using alcoholism as an excuse. But in the true spirit of America, the U.S of A!, we can still find a way to this as another example of how we're better than everyone else. Even you, Canada.
Let's go to The Tale of the Tape:
Looks: Trey Radel, even with that Jack Nicholson as The Joker smile, is fairly good looking, fit and well-groomed with a nice Florida sun-kissed tan. Rob Ford looks like he's been chewing on Willy Wonka's three course meal gum.
Drug of choice: Trey Radel likes cocaine. Rob Ford likes crack. It's pretty much the same thing, except cocaine has more of a classier reputation.
Florida: Trey Radel lives in Florida. Rob Ford really likes Florida; he threatened to take his kids away to Florida, and is accused of telling a female rival mayoral candidate she should have been in Florida with him because his wife wasn't there.
Winner = America
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Taken inside a San Francisco restaurant's unisex bathroom Photo Credit: Cory
It seems to be one of those things we (society) have decided shall not be spoke of; a gross but common site that was once only seen in the bathroom of men. It was overlooked, ignored as a victimless act by faceless perpetrators, by the men who sat next to us at a bar, even men who we broke bread with - hopefully after they had washed their hands. But now, as more and more restaurants, bars and coffee shops move into smaller places with only one bathroom, it is no longer hidden. Men, our Pandora's box has been opened. "It" is urinating on the floor directly in front of a toilet, and it needs to stop.
What are these guys doing, anyway, testing their distance? Keep your experiments at home, Bill Nye.
I for one take pride in my ability; with my natural aim and a limited understanding of fluid dynamics I have about a 99% success rate. I'd like that number to be 100%, but it's impossible to account for all variables, and I'm only human... and I like alcohol. I'm not going to give any tips. I don't think I can. It'd be like asking John Nash (dude portrayed by Russell Crowe in A Beautiful Mind) how he got so good at math. I'll I can say is that I just make it go into the toilet. We're still working out the specifics for Vin Diesel to play me in A Beautiful Bladder. He really wants that no-talent Paul Walker to make a cameo as a hallucination. Not gonna happen, period. Hollywood... am I right?
I think we need to institute some kind of public shaming. Put a meter of sorts in front of every toilet and urinal, and if a gross amount of urine hits the floor within a 30-second period a siren sounds and a series of red lights mounted around the establishment flash. This will cause everyone to be staring at the bathroom door as the culprit emerges without excuse to a collective tsk-tsk. Problem solved.
If you do want some tips, some physicists from Brigham Young University have studied the best way to minimize splash-back when using a urinal. Forget the god particle! You can check out their findings here.
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There are a lot of reasons to hate people. Here are a few of mine.
I hate people who don't pull all the way up to the line at a stoplight.
What the hell is wrong with these people? Do they not realize that they stopped short? Do they do it on purpose; what could that purpose possibly be? These unanswerable questions that flood my brain as I am stopped next to them is why I hate these people. As you can see in the photo above, both the car to their left and my car to their right are pulled all the way up. There's no way they don't see that, and yet they still don't roll forward. Why?
I hate guys who spit in urinals.
Every guy has witnessed this: a guy walks up to the urinal, unzips and extracts, and then spits down into the toilet. Stop it.
I hate guys who spit their gum into urinals.
I've never actually seen someone do it, but there it is, a piece of chewed up gum laying next to the urinal cake. Unless they're idiots, whoever spit it there knows it doesn't get flushed down. The holes are way too small. So, someone has to clean their nasty teeth-marked, urine covered gum out of there. I'm not a proponent of any Big Brother-type actions, but I would support getting everyone's dental records for the sole reason of finding and punishing these people. Punishment? Off the top of my head... They have to chew the abandoned gum for one and a half minutes.
I hate people who jaywalk when they are within 30 yards of a crosswalk.
Walk to the damn crosswalk, you lazy bastards.
I hate people who don't hurry when they're in a crosswalk and the light turns red.
First of all, there's no excuse for even getting caught in a crosswalk in places like San Francisco where every light has a countdown. People know how fast, or slow, they walk. And being old isn't an excuse. If someone's old, and walks with a cane, there's a solid chance they're not going to make it across in 10 seconds. And they know it! They must. If someone does get caught, they should at least pretend to hurry; lean forward a bit, move their arms in more of a "running" motion. And they should do a quick wave to the drivers to acknowledge the inconvenience. Something.
I hate people who whistle without knowing they're whistling.
I don't konw how to stop something people don't even realize they're doing. Can we make it something like when someone has food on their face? "Excuse me." 'Yes.' "You were whistling." 'Oh no, I was?' "Yeah." 'Thanks.' "No problem, I know I would want someone to tell me."
I hate people who whistle and they know they're whistling.
Stop it. It sounds terrible. No one is good at it.
I hate people who wear lime-green pants.
And, yes, especially on St. Patrick's Day.
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I went to a place called Noir in San Francisco last Friday night. I dug the beer selection, food looked good, atmosphere was cool. It's worth checking out if you're in Hayes Valley. However, in this picture of one of their bathrooms you'll notice a chair. It's not like I haven't seen a chair in a bathroom before; I'm no prude, you know. But look at the way the chair is angled. If there is a purpose for the chair, it's only so that someone could sit and watch a man - or a highly skilled and limber woman - urinate. Bunch of weirdos...