July 31, 2008

I remember when Hollister was called Tommy Hilfinger.

I guess when Kevin Federline starts wearing your ugly shirts, you have to change your name to something like Hollister.

Hey, you! The dork wearing the t-shirt that reads “Hollister” across the chest! You’re a tool.

What does brandishing a shirt with the manufacturer’s name across it say about the wearer? That you need somebody else’s logo to validate your existence? That you’re a sucker who’s willing to pay to advertise a brand that will implode the day Ryan Seacrest slips one on?

That you dye your pubic hair blond and host cuddle parties on your futon?

To me, it says “you’re hippo food.” And I don’t normally eat fruit.



July 1, 2008

Have you ever watched three dudes jog onto the beach, one twirling a Frisbee on his index finger? Yeah, you have. Instinctively, much in the way a sand crab knows to pinch toes, the three chums form The Triangle.

The first throw is pretty good. Sure, the guy misses it, but come on, it’s early.

The second throw sails over the third pal’s head. Dude?! Where did you learn to throw a Frisbee? Mexico? The Triangle loses its classic shape at the Frisbee is retrieved.

The third toss lands several yards into the ocean, and now people are getting irritated. Have you tried aiming? No. Have you tried fucking yourself?

Uh oh. The fourth toss becomes a sideways pie plate that rolls like a BC wheel and stops no where near anyone. You threw it! You get it!

Now the three Frisbee boys are no longer friends, and a once pleasant afternoon is ruined by a plastic disc. Later, a man is found dismembered and folded in a glove box. Coincidence?

You never see Hippos throw Frisbees.

English Blowhards

June 16, 2008

BlowhardDear English Blowhards,

Thanks for your ever-vigilant quest to correct every single grammar faux-pas or mis-pronunciation in the world. Nothing is more refreshing than when you interrupt an entire train of thought to remind us that, “Actually, it’s pronounced nu-clear.”

Really, thanks. You’ve truly demonstrated your intelligence. Meanwhile, I will continue saying “RBIs” even if there are no such thing as “Runs batted ins.” Because I’m not as smart as you.

In case you were wondering, it’s pronounced “hippofuckyoumus.”

DorkAs far as I’m concerned, it’s official: nothing is dorkier than televised poker.

Wait! I’m wrong! The people who play poker on televised poker are dorkier than the people watching televised poker.

These guys appear on national TV dressed like they’re attending a Mork & Mindy convention.

Little Known Hippo Fact: You can’t bluff a hippo.


May 19, 2008

Idiot After discovering the broken vase, and before grounding me for three weeks, Mom told me that “honesty is the best policy.” And boy is that true! Honesty is a terrific policy, and The Hippo will share some penetrating honesty with you right now:

Bluetooth people, you look like idiots!

Yes. It’s true. You have a plastic nub poking out of your ear. You look like somebody who should be adding French Fries to my receipt. Unless you work for Lando Calrission on Cloud City,  you have no reason to plug a speaker into your brain.

Really, you look like a moron.

DildoWalking from the 5th to the 6th hole, I saw something large and purple along the cart path. “Hey, that looks like a dildo,” I said, a moment before realizing that it was a dildo.

Who in the hell drops a dildo on a public golf course? Aren’t those expensive? Dildos don’t just grow on trees.

More alarming, that dildo put even my hippo-sized member to shame.

British Accents

May 1, 2008

Wot wot! WhooHoo! I’m British! I sound smart, even if the garbage oozing out of my mouth is a dopey sack of bullocks!

A big Yankee note to the country whose ass we kicked in the 1780s: take your Hugh Grant back. We’ve filtered everything he’s said through beloved American character actor Rip Torn, and we discovered that Hugh Grant is neither witty nor charming.

I will eat your Jude Law.

The Kentucky Derby

April 29, 2008

This is an event where an animal does all the legwork, a dwarf contributes the skill, and the millionaire owner gets all the credit. That’s the best. When the announcers start gushing over the millionaire owner. He bought a real fast horse! Let’s clap for him!

Meanwhile, the Hobbit that just rode your investment to victory hasn’t eaten a lunch that wasn’t immediately regurgitated in three weeks. Damn you, Dan Fogelberg, for giving tune to this abortion of so-called achievement.

Put a man on top of a hippo and race that.

Wind Chimes

April 22, 2008

Wind ChimesRanked somewhere between a paperweight and a half-box of mustard packets, wind chimes are probably among the worst house-warming gifts you’ll likely to receive. Who do you know who wants a device that randomly sprinkles disjointed noise during the hours you’re trying to sleep?

I lived in an apartment complex where some bastard hung up a wind chime off his balcony. A rooster would have been better. At least it only wakes you up at sunrise. And devour it later.

The kind of person who owns a wind chime also owns Lily Tomlin movies, wears copper bracelets and crystal amulets, drinks Dr. Pepper® exclusively, and makes it a point to make you feel like an asshole for not watching The Wire.

I’d eat your wind chimes if I were sure I wouldn’t shit a jingle.