Haters Be Hatin'


Being a kid in the city must be hard. First, you have to be fluent in three different languages to get through grade school and bullet prices are not coming down anytime soon.

Dumpster Swimming Pools

Now even the rich of NYC are trashy people.

Now, if you want to cool off in the summer you have to swim in a dumpster. That’s right, the city of New York has decided to make dumpsters into swimming pools across Park Avenue. Just think, now you can do a few laps in the same dumpster that was the final resting place of a few good hookers.

I wonder who came up with this crappy idea? My guess is the dumpsters needed to be thrown away… but just like when you try to throw away a trash can, the garbage men ignore it.

Seriously, you ever try to throw away a garbage can? It’s impossible. Dear Trashman- why else would I leave an empty trash can in front of my house that smells worse than Lindsay Lohan… in the daytime?

This is easily the first time ever that pissing in the pool would be considered proper behavior. I’m curious if the pools will be frozen over in the winter so that way dwarfs and midgets can finally get their hockey league off the ground.

One thing is for certain, if they are looking for a new dumpster to turn into a pool… may I recommend a nice ballpark that no one cares about in Flushing, Queens.

If there is one American legacy that we can all be proud of it is that we are the fattest nation in the land. No, I do not mean fat with a PH you hip hop induced idiots… but more like Orca fat.

60 pound woman photo

"Don't hate me because I'm beautiful!"

We love to consume and consume and consume to a point that when a Golden Corral opens up you would think Bon Jovi was in town with the number of cars in the parking lot.

Meet, Lizzie Velasquez, a 21 year-old woman who has some rare condition that leaves her unable to gain weight. Talk about not fitting in! She eats like everyone else and gorges up to 5,000 calories a day sometimes but still fits into a size -5. When she was a baby, born prematurely, she was dressed in clothes that were fit for dolls. I wonder if the American Girl line was also too big for her?

She has written a book that weighs more than her and is currently touring the country trying to promote self-esteem and empowerment. Good for you Lizzie! But at the same time, if people want to be like you, I think you are setting a bad example.  Girls are constantly trying to be thin like their idols and I think if they start copying Lizzie it could spell doom for the country… right Tori Spelling? Nicole Richie?

If the book tour doesn’t work out at least you can always work in Hollywood. Schindler’s List 2. IN 3D!!!

The song “Nothin’ On You” by upstart rapper B.O.B. is the song of the summer.  It plays on the radio every 12-15 minutes.  It’s stupidly catchy.  It gets stuck in your head like only summer jams can do – to the point where you start looking for an ice pick to assist in removing it.

Honestly, I say these words with love.  Making a song this catchy can’t be easy.  So kudos to you, Mr. O.B.

But there is one glaring, hate-worthy part of this song that must be discussed.  By now, I’m sure he is rolling around in dollar bills and couldn’t care less.  Lest I continue.

The song, about a girl he loves (edgy), showers said female friend with a laundry list of exaggerated compliments.  The goal, it appears, is to convince said girl that she stands alone in the unspoken competition against her own sex.  More clearly, B.O.B. truly feels that every other girl has “nothin’” on this particular girl.  She is the bee’s knees, from what we can deduce.

B.O.B. Nothin on you

You think about it B.O.B.

There is one line, though, that breaks the mood so definitively that one could start to second-guess his true feelings towards this girl.  The line makes about zero sense in relation to the rest of the song.  It is a doozy.

“You’re my wonder woman/call me Mr. Fantastic

Stop/Now think about it”

Well, B.O.B., I stopped.  I thought about it.  And it hurt my head.

Now maybe it’s wrong to overanalyze a rap song.  Nobody really questions the lyrics in rap.  It’s about flow, and not necessarily about logic.  But, in defense of the girl you are trying to woo, I think she deserves a rewrite.

Taken at face value, this lyric places B.O.B. and his love interest in separate planes of existence.  Wonder Woman, a D.C. comic book character, exists in a world where Mr. Fantastic, a Marvel superhero, does not exist.  They are mutually exclusive.  They are oil and water.  Actually, they are more like oil and another type of liquid that will never come in contact with oil unless universes were to collide.  They are doomed to be strangers.

I sure hope B.O.B.’s love interest doesn’t read comic books, or this site for that matter.  If so, his chances are ruined.  An otherwise smooth song collapses upon itself with the utterance of this lyric.  Calling a girl “Wonder Woman” might be a smooth move in theory.  But once the line is completed, B.O.B. might as well have said “I love you, but I’m not in love with you.”  That is about equally as smooth.       

Every once in a while, something comes along that unites the people of world to a common cause.  Thanks to the Internet, this happens far too often these days.  And the cause is usually just to waste time.

The most recent example of this is ChatRoulette.  If you have yet to experience the “game” of ChatRoulette, consider yourself lucky.  ChatRoulette is a hopeless vaccuum of assholes and dicks.


Oh, the excitement

In this so-called “game,” players are randomly connected to a stranger by way of webcam and text chatting.  After chatting with one stranger, either player can choose to progress onward to the next stranger.  And so on.  It’s a potentially endless game, and for many a couch loaf around the world, it probably is.

The assumed goal of ChatRoulette is to have fun meeting people from around the world in a rapid-fire way.  You might be sitting in your den somewhere in Wisconsin, and have a life-changing conversation with a random dude from Budapest.  Or meet the girl of your dreams who only lives an hour down the road.  Or some shit like that.

Bollocks, I say.  Almost instantaneously after it’s debut, ChatRoulette was infected by the same terrible disease that makes the rest of the Internet such a damned cesspool: perverts.  The whole stinking lot of them.

Upon entering a game of ChatRoulette, you basically sign away your gag reflex for whatever amount of time you can bear to endure.  For every halfway-decent, mostly-clothed person you may come across during your ChatRoulette experience, you will see at least six of the following:

1. Dude jerking off

2. Dude preparing to jerk off

3. Dude who just finished jerking off

4. Dude holding a sign asking to see boobs so he can jerk off to them

5. Dude jerking someone else off

6. Dude asking you to jerk off for him

7. A completely dark room (where some dude is most likely jerking off)

ChatRoulette: Reversing evolution one click at a time

This is not a complaint so much as a white flag.  Congratulations, perverts.  You’ve ruined yet another potentially cool idea.  There is no point complaining or asking you to stop.  You never will.  You will be a pervert until the day you die alone, or are put away for child pornography.  These are the sad facts.

Is ChatRoulette worthy of hatred?  No.  I don’t hate concerts, even though some douche bag will most likely spill his beer on me or hit me in the face and confuse it with dancing.  I don’t hate parties, even though some douche bag will likely start a fight or punch a hole in the wall after losing at beer pong.  I don’t hate ChatRoulette, either.  I just hate the douche bags who spoil the fun for everybody else.

I imagine the only actual perk that comes from jerking off while on ChatRoulette is the chance you might stumble upon another douche bag pervert with his junk out.  Then, these two douche bag perverts can jerk off to each other and truly make a connection.

Maybe this was the plan behind ChatRoulette all along – giving douche bag perverts a way to meet other douche bag perverts so they can jerk off together, basking in all their shameless douchery.  Maybe the normal ChatRoulette users not interested in jerking off are the real douche bags.  Just maybe.

Either way, I propose that they rename “ChatRoulette” to “JerkOffForStrangers.”  The douche bags have already won.  Let’s just call it a loss and move on to the next one.

Oh Hey Ya’ll Radio Episode 5.

by admin on March 31st, 2010
Bruce from Family Guy

Oh Haaay, Listen to the radio show ya'll

Don’t forget the radio show Ya’ll. Every Wednesday at 10:00 pm eastern. You can call in and talk about what you want to hate on or hate on us to our face. Click here to go directly to our radio page. We would love to hear comments, good or bad, about the show etc. Let us know what you think! Call in # is (646) 727-1161


by General Nuggz on March 19th, 2010

no words can describe this.

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