Davezilla.com

Category: Observations

  • Instagram makes my house look haunted

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  • What the what?

    I’m not sure what jungle Katy Perry’s “Roar” video was shot in, but it seems to have South African Elephants, Egyptian Baboons, Central American Capuchin Monkeys and Indian Bengal Tigers.

  • Stop it Bennie. I can’t breathe.

    Some days my pug’s gas is both lethal and plentiful. If I don’t finish this post, you’ll kn

  • Fuck the duck

    Is it just me, or does anyone else wish that stupid Aflac duck died from his injuries? I hate those commercials!

  • Pet Translation

    I just realized that telling my dogs and cats, “I’m going out; be good” is translated in their minds as, “I’ll be gone long enough for you to hide the evidence of whatever you’re planning on destroying.”

  • What Kind of Music Do I Like?

    Over the years, I’ve realized that my musical taste boils down to one element that’s proven remarkably accurate: If the singer or musician’s name is “Kenny”, there is a 99% chance I won’t like it.

    Kennys

  • The Best Children’s Song Ever. By Me.

    I have absolutely no memory of any children’s song lyrics. I don’t think I ever knew (or cared) what they were when I was a child and now that I am a father, I am resorting to making up lyrics to sing to my girl. I hope I don’t screw her up too badly with my version of Hush, Little Baby:

    Hush little baby, don’t smack a nerd,
    Papa’s gonna buy you an odd-shaped bird.

    If that odd-shaped bird don’t sing,
    Papa’s gonna buy you a diamond ring (I remembered this part!)

    If that diamond ring don’t shine,
    Papa’s gonna buy you a porcupine.

    If that porcupine don’t swim,
    Papa’s gonna buy you a cat named Jim.

    If that cat named Jim don’t fly,
    Papa’s gonna buy you a marble pie.

    If that marble pie don’t speak,
    Papa’s gonna buy you a homeless freak… etc.

    Feel free to add new lyrics for this song so it never ends.

  • Is gravity increasing? Or is the photographer shrinking?

    Seems to happen every time women cram together for a photo.

    Gravity? Or shrinking photographer?

  • More People We Can Safely Dislike, #25

    • Jodi Arias supporters
    • Twilight fans. Fuck all of you. Vampires don’t sparkle.
    • People who change their profile photo to reflect the latest meme, social cause or trend with no clue why other than their friends are all doing it, too.
    • [DISCLAIMER: This one is probably only a Michigan thing] Drivers who get into the Michigan turn lane diagonally, thus taking up both lanes and refuse to pull out into traffic, even after a vicious, sustained honk.

      • Uma Thurman

    • While, not a person, Punxsutawney Phil, who needs to be made into a rug. That useless, pus-bag has never predicted spring correctly. Ever. And don’t correct me in the comments. He sucks. If I could make a movie, it would be called Kill Phil and Uma Thurman would take out Phil and all his kin in a deliberate and most brutal fashion.
    • People who leave their outdoor Christmas decorations up through the spring and summer—and continue to light them up nightly.

  • Sleep deprivation

    LIZZ: “That’s it, honey.” [SITTING UP, ROCKING IN BED]
    ME: “What are you doing?”
    LIZZ: “I just… I have to stay awake and…to make sure the baby doesn’t fall asleep on me.”
    ME: “What? I didn’t even hear you get out of bed.”
    LIZZ “Oh. My. God. I am losing my mind.”
    ME: “What?!?”
    LIZZ: “This isn’t even the baby. I’ve been rocking the cat.”

  • What I Learned from Prescription Drug Ads

    • Single folk don’t take prescription drugs. Only straight, married couples do.
    • The people who take prescription drugs own Golden Retrievers.
    • They wear matching sweaters tied around their necks and take long walks down the beach.
    • They have unlimited resources for traveling to exotic locales.
    • Only white and black people take prescription drugs. Asians, Hispanics, Pacific Islanders, etc. apparently don’t need prescription drugs.
    • Side effects are generally worse than the conditions being treated.
    • Anti-depression drugs cause depression and lead to thoughts of suicide. Wait. Wut?

    All of this leads me to postulate that if you’re white, married and retired, avoid wearing matching sweaters with your spouse or owning a Golden Retriever. That combination will lead to all sorts of medical maladies.

  • The Hate Cake

    My mother made me a Hate Cake today. I don’t know what I did to upset her so, but it must have been bad. This was the meanest Hate Cake I’d ever seen. And I’ve seen plenty in my time.

    In place of flour, she’d substituted plaster dust.

    The cake had three wicked layers—each more revolting than the one below it. Each layer was separated by a thin glacé of duck lard. The bottom layer had a fine dusting of used coffee grounds to add texture and a less than delightful crunch. Layer two was equally appalling. It had a surprise filling: potato peelings and menthol cigarettes. The top layer was where the true culinary artistry shone. A delicate confection of ketchup, pork rinds and Trinidad Moruga Scorpion peppers, which I’m told are 100 times hotter than the Indian Ghost Pepper, Bhut jolokia.

    The frosting was especially hateful. A spiteful spread consisting of full pulp orange juice mixed with Crest toothpaste. And no Hate Cake is complete without a jaw-dropping—or indeed, jaw-piercing—presentation and this cake proved no exception. What at first glance appeared to be delicate crystals encrusting the entire top of the cake surface was in fact, ground Italian glass. No expense was spared; that was genuine Murano glass, ground to perfection.