Denny’s offers new competition. Nanerpus not included.

Denny’s – Seriously, bring back the Nanerpus.

Social media is not just for mobile developers and unemployed hipsters.   It’s for Grand Slams.  And no I’m not talking about some boring, weak ass sport like golf.  Or baseball.  I’m talking about “All I’ve got is $.99 and somehow I can buy pancakes, bacon, sausage, eggs and diarrhea” Grand Slams.  That’s right, Denny’s.  A restaurant that makes me proud to be an American.   Borderline illegal and definitely dangerous, Denny’s is the king of hangover cures and pancakes so bad African children refuse them.  But that has not stopped it from joining the social media orgy and creating its own mobile app.   Personally, I would have thought maybe it could spend some more time improving the recipes on its Value Menu. As a word of advice, I’d recommend sidestepping the $4 All You Can Eat Pancakes and instead invest that money into some Ipecac.  Same effect without all that maple syrup.

Anyway, the app is pretty awesome in the fact that if you turn it on anywhere, pour syrup on your phone and then eat it; it will taste just like you’re at Denny’s.  No really, I’m serious. Not only that but the app also allows you to check in and chat with fellow biscuit and gravy loving patrons about how awesome your scrambled eggs were and post photos of how your pancake came out looking like Snooki’s ass.

The app however was just beginning, as Denny’s has just announced the 50 State Challenge, a competition that has been described as “basically the Amazing Race except no cameras and a bunch of shitty pancakes”.  The deal is the first person (or hapless team of 3) to check in to a Denny’s in every single state (fuck off Puerto Rico) wins free Grand Slams for life.   Did you read that?  Free Grand Slams.  For Life.   Forget playing Powerball and your day job and take a road trip of awesome.  You control your destiny.  Actually that second mention about day jobs is probably irrelevant since if you’re willing to embark as the Zelda of Hotcakes, then your day job probably only involves collecting food stamps (obviously accepted at Denny’s).

I just feel bad for all those wife-beater wearing, child-beating friendly, residents in America’s rural trailer parks that would absolutely demolish this challenge in48 hours.  They just don’t have an iPhone.  Or any teeth to chew on that bacon.

Good luck and don’t forget to pack some Mylanta.

Man with 30 kids asks for lower child support; probably should ask for condoms.

Who has a daddy named Desmond?

Did anyone else hear about this?  I guess there’s some dude that’s been muff stuffin’ down in Tennessee and now has something like 30 kids.  According to the LA Times, this extremely virile man, a one Desmond Hatchett, has set a Knoxville record.  You’ve got to be fucking kidding me; this is setting a record?  Does that mean there were so many other dudes with 29 kids down in Knox County that it took the Roman warrior sperm of Mr. Hatchett to make  make it clear who’s the biggest fucking idiot in Tennessee?

I have to admit though, I don’t know what I’m more impressed about, the fact our record breaker found 11 women worth having sex with in Tennessee, or the fact that he’s not related to any of them.  The man is a true inspiration to all of us.  I never thought someone who works a minimum wage job could pull so much ass.  What was I thinking; working white collar and wearing condoms.  My game is weak.  But enough of singing his praise, he’s clearly got enough willing mouths for that one.

I am a little curious how something of this nature happens.   All that pot back in college hasn’t done much for my math skills but I think I still can handle basic arithmetic.  Let’s see, add 12 idiots, subtract their clothes, divide their legs and let them multiply.

No really, a couple of kids with the first woman I understand.  Sure, things fizzle and he has a couple more with a new lady. OK.  Even with the third family, I might cast a wondering glance but I’m not passing any serious judgement.  You can even justify a handful on some wild acid and whiskey filled weekends in your mid 20’s. But by the time he’s sausage stuffing the 8th and 9th women and having multiple kids with them, you have to ask yourself, have these women lost their fucking minds?! What the hell are they thinking, inviting this guy back like they’ve each got a punch card and they’re just one kid away from a free toaster.

And now he’s asking for help with his child support.  Shit, he should be asking someone to make him flashcards, help him learn all his kids names.   I mean, I do feel bad for the kids, since there’s a pretty good chance their lives will suck.

On the plus side they’re famous for a couple of days.  That’s gotta be worth at least $1.49.

Time Magazine’s breastfeeding MILF

“Sucking on my titties like you wanted me …”

(Photo Credit : Just Google “lucky + boobs”  Caption Credit : Those sweet ass opening lyrics of Fuck the Pain Away by Peaches)

Alright, I know I’m a little late to this party, but when the party is about titties, it’s a party that won’t be stopping early.  The party I’m talking about of course is that lady who pulled her boob out on Time magazine.  And then shoved it into the mouth of what appears to be an 11 year old boy.

First of all, I have not read the article but am completely prepared to unabatedly throw my opinion into the blogosphere; much like a polar bear eating a baby seal while it’s still alive. In other words: I don’t need no stinking invitation.   Apparently, the article is supposed to be about parenting or something else boring, but you could have fooled me; I thought it was an ad for step stools.

Come on now though, whose idea was it to put that blonde and her side boob on the cover of Time magazine? Shit, when I opened the mailbox I popped half wood until I realized it was just a kid on the other end of that nipple and not that imp from Game of Thrones in the midst of a little feeding session.  I feverishly flipped through the pages expecting to see that other dude from Thrones who runs the whore house shouting at some Mideaval milfs and midgets about how to find each other’s anal G spot with three knuckles.  You can imagine my disappointment to find a picture of some old dude with a baby talking about parenting.    Weak sauce.

But before we shake our heads and wag our fingers, I would like to step back and put myself into that child’s shoes.  Metaphorically speaking of course; since there’s no way I’d fit in those size 3 Osh KoshBGosh sneakers.  I mean, what must be going through his mind during this photo shoot?  “We usually do this with her pants off too”  or “How come I don’t get any Oreo’s with it this time?”  or maybe just a “What the fuck is going on”?  They say he’s only three but the kid’s got some great form.  Little guy don’t even need a bib anymore.

I want to know your thoughts.  Does this article make you thirsty?