Sorry for the whole “going MIA for several months” thing, it’s been hard for me to have a desire to write, as I’m constantly doing it for school these days. At least it seems like it. Whatev. Anyways, I know that everyone gets old and dies and all that shit, and I know that old people think they deserve to have the rights that everyone else in the world does. But get the fuck out of my gym. Please. I know that you finally saved up enough UPC codes and got that sweet new fanny pack from the Mott’s applesauce company to show off, but do it somewhere that I don’t have to trip over you. Fuck. It’s one thing to see your friend Bertha from down the hall in your retirement home at the grocery store, and feel the need to have a half an hour conversation about tapioca pudding and dominos while blocking an entire aisle with your shopping carts that have nothing fucking in them. I get that. I can totally accept that the grocery store is like the elephant graveyard for you fuckers. But for the love of all that is holy – Baby Jesus, Buddha, Zeus, and whatever deity Eskimos pray to – get the fuck out of my gym.
I am almost 30. I had every intention of either dying in a badass explosion or bank heist or something sweet at 40, but recently my friend Tara convinced me that 50 is the new 40. Whatev, so long as I’m dead before I hit the age that I annoy the holy fuck out of everyone else in that comes in contact with me. “Brah, why are you so hostile to old people?”, you ask? Well let me explain to you exactly what I encounter every single day at my gym. There are 3 parking lots to use. The parking isn’t the greatest, but it’s certainly plentiful. And yet, every single day that I get to the gym, no matter what time it is, there is no parking, because EVERY FUCKING CAR IS PARKED IN 2 SPOTS. For some reason, even though these old fuckers obviously have all come from the same graveyard to piss me off, they don’t carpool or take one of those fancy geriatric buses that they get to use for free. So I get to take a quarter mile walk before my workout even starts.
As soon as I walk into the gym, I am greeted by the sight of about 40 fat old ladies, floating around on neon pink pool-noodles, like enormous, horrifying, pale lilypads in the pool that I was excited to use when I first signed up for the gym. Yeah, I think for the 8 months I’ve been a member, I’ve been in the pool twice. Somehow worse is the hot tub. I thought I’d be able to get more use out of it, but it’s like balls soup in there, because the old fuckers that manage to break a sweat from shuffling around the indoor track for 13 minutes don’t shower off before they get in it. I decided that soaking up the hemorrhoid juice bubbling around in the hot tub isn’t in my best interest, so I generally skip that too. I go into the locker room to put my gym bag away, and am immediately bombarded with old scrotums swinging around like fucking pendulums in fast forward. Every old dude is for some reason bending over naked in front of the only open lockers in the locker room, or standing like Captain Morgan and regaling each other with racist stories while drying their balls off. I swear to God, there is a public hair dryer in there – I have seen old guys blow drying their junk after the shower. Now, I don’t use a hair dryer, but I don’t need hot air blowing crusty pubes around the fucking locker room. It’s bad enough that I step on used bandaids in the shower.
On the days that I manage to not puke all over the place and run out of the gym horrified, I go up the stairs to start my workout. There are 2 sides to the gym – one is for cardio, the other is for weight training. On the cardio side, there are probably about 20 treadmills, 15 elipticals, 10 bikes, and a couple other random machines that no one ever uses because they were manufactured in the late ’70’s and will probably scrape you and give you tetanus if you attempt it. There are several clipboards hanging on the wall so you can sign up for a machine and you get to use it for a half an hour before you have to get off and sign up for another one. Annoying rule, but it gets busy in there, so I understand it. Except that the stupidass old people that go there don’t sign up for anything, they just pretend like they didn’t know about it when you say something to them, and get all indignant about it when you start yelling at them. What the fuck are you doing, walking at a 1.3 speed on a treadmill anyways? You can do that on the fucking track you stupid tardos. Fuck.
On the weight training side, I constantly have to stand guard on the machines I’m using between reps, because those muscle shirt, side boob showing old dudes and unitard wearing Forever 21 grandmas are fucking vultures, and will move your water bottle out of their way and then sit on your machine for fucking 25 minutes if you step off for even a second. Then, when you finally get your machine back, it smells like farts and covered in some kind of filmy residue that is left by snails and the fucking walking dead. WHY ARE YOU TRYING TO WORK OUT YOUR TRICEPS, BERTHA? It’s like some asshole told them that doing tricep extensions with 10LBs is the equivalent of drinking out of the Fountain of Youth. Maybe I’ll go get free weights instead. Oh shit, nevermind. Some fat, super hairy old guy is doing is fat guy ab workout directly in front of the weight rack instead of in the designated ab workout area. Hank Hill would be pissed if he was real. That shit is designated for a reason, sonnnn. Maybe if I started accidentally dropping 25LB kettleballs on the dickholes that I have to reach over to get them, they’d learn. Or die. Either way, my problem would be temporarily solved.
Anyways. This isn’t very nature-esque, I guess. Although, it is nature’s fault that people get old. Or human nature? I dunno. Fuck you nature, regardless.
Hey guys, sorry about my AWOL-ness…I was hanging out in Jamaica for awhile, cause I’m a badass, and between that and nonstop homework, I haven’t had time to write much for Brah Vs. Nature, sadly. I’m pretty much caught up on homework and papers and other scholastic cockery (at least until tomorrow) so I thought I’d try and lay some hate down tonight. I’ll also post some pictures that I took while I was creating the BVN live-action hate videos, which are terrible so they won’t see the glowing happiness of internet glory. But some of the pictures are cool. For example, I made a bleeding vagina out of a hamburger bun and some ketchup, hung it on a cardboard Justin Bieber that I made, and then kicked the shit out of it. “How could that be bad,” you ask? Well, I’m not pretty enough to be in movies, first off. Second, I feel that I convey my hatred better with writing than spoken word. Third, I am a perfectionist, and at the start of each video, I was taking a 40oz canned Pabst Blue Ribbon to the head. Doing it once is hard enough, fucking up in the middle of it, or if my camera fell or something, and then having to do it again…well I was basically drinking myself retarded before the fucking video even started. BUT I digress. Let’s talk about termites and why they’re assholes.
When I was in Jamaica, my friend TJ posted on my Facebook page that a termite bit him. Now, I didn’t know that termites bit people, I thought they stuck to eating wood, but it got me to thinking…BEFORE the incident, TJ and I played the game “Words With Friends”, and he’d constantly beat me, but not like he is now. This motherfucker destroys me by like 300 points a game now, leading me to believe that the termite gave him powers – some kind of termite hive mind shit – and that pisses me right the fuck off. (Basically I’m going to blame termites for this TJ. Same with you Tara, Nick, and recently Kelly, you brilliant termite sons of bitches) I SWEAR TO GOD I USED TO BE GOOD AT SCRABBLE. Fuck. Whatever, I’m a wordsmith. I don’t need to win a stupid game.
Aside from bestowing my friends with brain dictionaries, termites are assholes. They eat some crops, and fuck with water reserves by digging under them in some places of the world, but termites suck mostly because they EAT YOUR FUCKING HOUSE. If you live in a wooded area, and you have a log cabin or a wood structure house, you might as well just burn that son of a bitch down right now, because at least you’ll take out some of the billions of termites living in it before they devour it. Termites fly around, bang each other, find a place to dig a hole, and then start a family. They then send members of that family out to steal shit to expand their living quarters – basically they’re New Jersey Italians. They chew up wood and drywall and stuff, take it back to their house and puke it up to make the floors and walls of extra rooms so they have more places to cram their baby termites into. Some of their houses end up hanging from trees like beehives and nests, but the ones that really concern me are the giant, dick shaped houses that they make, jutting out of the ground to point straight in the air at the glowing baby Jesus. Talk about the ultimate insult. They’re eating your house, puking it up, and molding it into a giant dick-house. That’s some bullshit right there.
Some scientists say that their natural recycling is important to the world’s eco-system for some stupid reason…something about fossil fuels or whatev. And I guess in places like Central Africa and Indonesia, people eat’em like popcorn. But to me, termites are just tiny used condom-looking assholes that eat your house, flip off God, and make all of my friends smarter than me.
Fuck you, nature.
When I was a kid, my dad took me to get an allergy test done. I don’t remember the details, but I DO remember that they put like 50 drops of different things that you could be allergic to on your back, and then prick you with a needle a bunch of times on said drops. I was allergic to a bunch of shit, I don’t remember most of it which is probably not the best thing to forget, but I do remember that I’m allergic to pollen. And I’m reminded every fucking time the wind blows in spring and summer. Anyways, sometime after, I went with my 5th grade class (I think 5th grade? Jesus Christ, my memory sucks worse than a deaf kid singing Miley Cyrus songs) to a place called “Camp Cooper”. It was a 2 or 3 day gig at some little camp in the middle of the desert in Arizona, and it was pretty awesome. Some gross lady was dissecting owl and bat turds to show us animal bones, we got to eat cactus fruit, and there was a bbq every night. And then one night, some kid blew a handful of pollen from some shitty desert tree into my face. Now, I don’t know what in the great blue fuck that little dildo was thinking, but getting hit by that shit felt like the equivalent of snorting goddamn SARS and herpes out of an anthill. My face got all swollen and red and ended up looking like a scrotum, and I was itchier than the Pink Panther’s sex partners – I assume his fur is made out of fiberglass insulation, yeah nevermind. Anyways, that fucking sucked to say the least. Luckily, the last day of that trip, I saw that little dickhole fall into a cactus. Some people helped him, I mostly just laughed and pointed. In fact, I still laugh about that when I’m having a bad day. Little asshole.
Anyways, pollen is such bullshit, and here’s why: Not only did nature engineer it to make human beings feel like they contracted the bubonic plague whenever it floats in our general vicinity, but it’s fucking plant sperm. Holy shit, every single time your allergies are acting up, it’s because some tree blew his load and the wind smeared the money shot right into your face. And what the fuck bees? Bees roll around and get covered in plant jizz, and then take it back to their lair to share with their nasty-ass family. Hey bee-kids, dad’s home and he brought some sperm for you TO EAT. Jesus I’m so glad I’m not a bee. Bees also carry pollen around to other plants for insemination or fertilization or whatever it’s called in the plant world, which in turn, breeds more pollen when the plant drops off baby plants. Yeah I’m not a scientist, so I don’t know or care how that shit works, but I do know that pollen sucks, allergies suck, bees suck, and nature sucks for making human beings endure plant bukkake showers non-stop.
Fuck you, nature.
Goddammit, I should’ve put the fly-banging picture in last, because I can’t get it off of my screen while I’m writing this. CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT SOME HIPSTER DILDO THINKS THAT PICTURE IS ART? Fucking gross. I hope it haunts your dreams and scars your brain like it does mine. Anyways, I hate flies. They’re disgusting, annoying, dirty and contribute nothing good to the world – they’re basically the Kardashian family of the Animal Kingdom.
A long time ago, my family and I took a trip to New Mexico to visit some people. I don’t remember how I’m supposed to know these people, but whatever, we were there and they owned a farm. And it was pretty cool, I had never stayed on a real farm before. I also got to see the Jetsons’ animated movie while I was there, which was obviously fuckin sweet. The bad part about staying on a farm in New Mexico is the flies. Jesus Christ, flies are like the official bird of that balls/grundle combopack of a state. And it’s even worse on a farm. A farm in New Mexico is basically where flies go to get drunk and film their amateur orgies. Gross. Anyways, the farmers had a cow, and the cow just had a baby, and I was explicitly told to NOT go into the cow pen to see the baby cow, because I would probably get trampled and gored. So the next day, I jumped into the cow pen and was immediately chased out by the pissed off mother cow. As I leapt back over the wooden fence like a fuckin gazelle, I swallowed a fly. I didn’t realize what had happened at first, because I was still powered by adrenaline and badass survival instinct, but as blood slowly started seeping back into my brain, it occured to me that something flew into my mouth and hit the back of my throat, and as I looked around, all I could see was flies. I was rightfully grossed out, and all of the “Rock-a-Dile Red” Kool-Aid in the world couldn’t fix me.
There are so many things that are terrible about flies. First off, some of them bite you. Horse flies can bite you hard enough that you bleed. They’re the size of that flying, gold anal bead that Harry Potter chases in those movies, except with teeth. Also, they eat shit. OK, yeah. There ya go. They literally eat shit. They love the stuff, they can’t get enough of it. And when they’re done eating shit, they land on your food or face or some cherished item, and then puke all over it. That’s what they do. You think they’re just resting? Fuck no, they are literally vomiting shit onto you. That little stupid hand rubbing motion isn’t for cleanliness, it’s because they’re hatching maniacal plans between fits of barf. And dear sweet baby Jesus in a leopard-print boy thong, they are annoying. I once read somewhere that flies fly in some kind of retarded pattern that only makes sense to flies, and if you fuck up their flight path, they will leave you alone because they find a different pattern to fly in, I don’t know. I do know that if you hit them really fucking hard with a fly swatter, pillow, brick, newspaper, phone book, or angry fist, they’ll leave you alone.
If all this isn’t enough to make you hate flies, then there is clearly something wrong with you. Maybe your parents fed you paint chips and cat food for dessert or something, I dunno. But like a porn star, I’ll finish strong: Missy Elliot dressed up in some trash bags and rapped some terrible rap about being a fly in the mid 90’s. Hannah Mon-goddamn-tana sang some hillbilly/pop bullshit about being a fly on the wall. And one of the worst human beings to ever let live past the age of 11, Jeff Goldblum, was in a terrible movie about becoming a fly-man. Jeff Goldblum: The flyest Jew around.
Fuck you, nature.
Gravity is a real bitch. And not just because it teamed up with my one-time friend Alan in the whole “make-me-fall-out-of-a-tree-and-break-my-shit” debacle. (See https://brahvsnature.wordpress.com/2011/07/18/today-in-f-you-nature-tree-sap/ for that ridiculous story.) Gravity is a little something that I like to call an “invisibully” – you can’t see it, but it’s constantly fucking humans up left and right. Anytime you trip and make a fool of yourself in front of some hot piece of ladybutt, thank gravity. Anytime a bird shits on you, a plane crashes, a baby falls down an elevator shaft, a mortar hits your house, Jesus reaches down and punches you in the forehead, you drop your keys down some fucking hole that happens to be the exact shape of your keys and nothing else in the world, thank gravity. Do you know why you can’t fly? Gravity. There are so many reasons to hate gravity, but let me tell you the worst thing gravity has ever done to humanity – Saggy boobs. I would rather have fallen out of that tree 1000 times than ever known the world of saggy boobs.
I’m not a scientist, but I’m pretty sure I know how this works: Girls sprout their glory-lumps like awesome Chia pets at about 13 years old, and then immediately go into a struggle with gravity. For years and years women fight a losing battle, using weapons manufactured by Victoria’s Secret (weapons that also make them wonderbra wearing liars – a fact that I’ve come to terms with, because it’s worth it to know that they’re fighting nature daily) only to eventually succumb to saggy boobness. And women can’t be blamed for it, gravity never lets up on its iron grip. The bigger the rack, the more gravity yanks on it, and the more likely the chick is to 2-step all over her nipples. Giant, beautiful orbs made out of happiness and full of magical, rainbow-colored unicorn fur are transformed into something that looks like a pair of oversized twinkies filled with that slime that Nickelodeon shows used to make you look like an asshole if you failed a physical challenge back in the ’90’s. I think it was called “Gak”, I can’t remember. Either way, it sucks.
According to mathematicians and physicists and those kind of geniuses, Isaac Newton and Albert Einstein, blah blah, gravity is actually something keeping humanity alive by not allowing Earth to go spiraling into the sun and burning to a crisp. But that’s just a clever ruse. I’m not sure why Isaac Newton is siding with gravity after he was hit in the face by an apple, sounds like a little bitch move to me, but whatever. I’d much rather live in a world where women floated around frantically with perfect boobies, even only for a few minutes of gravity-less glory before skidding into the sun like a junebug into a bug-zapper, than in a world with banana shaped dangle tits, swinging around like fucking chest-scrotums. Whatever, I’ll always love all boobs, and always hate all gravity. And women, you all deserve medals for your constant struggle with nature.
Fuck you, Nature.